Meeting in the Intergenerational Gap

BY SHARON LAU (she/her/hers)

Growing up in a Chinese household, I was taught that only one thing mattered - health. My parents and grandparents reassured me that no matter the circumstances or challenges that came someone’s way, the most important thing was one’s health. Good health equaled a good life. Yet, as I learned more about mental health, I began to see that “good health” meant something quite different to my Chinese immigrant elders than it did to me, a second-generation Chinese American.

Whenever my family speaks about “good health,” it typically excludes mental health since the struggles are not as visible as those of physical ailments. Sadly, the cultural stigma and deep shame surrounding mental health has caused many Asian folks to struggle in silence. Yet, my American cultural upbringing takes a different approach… It has been exciting to see a shift in conversations towards the psychological and emotional dimensions of overall health. Especially during the pandemic, I have seen more people candidly share about their struggles with isolation, depression, grief, among many others.

For me, the first time I acquired the language for mental health was in my undergraduate contemporary Asian American course. I never saw mental health as a taboo issue in the Asian American community, because I realized that I never truly had open conversations around mental well-being. It was not until my freshman year of college that I began to fully understand the extent of the problem. I always knew I wanted to be a therapist, but quickly after that lecture, my career goal became more personal -  I wanted to become a therapist for my community. 

My #careergoals led me to UCLA to pursue my Master of Social Work (MSW) degree. When I first entered graduate school, I was struggling with depression and lost a significant amount of weight. Upon returning home for winter break, my friends and family quickly took notice. From my family’s perspective, my weight loss was simply related to physical health and a result of me not eating enough. I, too, dismissed my weight loss as a mere side-effect of cooking on my own and eating out less frequently because I was on an unemployed graduate student budget. But in reality, my friends knew what was going on. I was struggling with the transition to graduate school and my mental health troubles were taking a toll on my physical health.

Eventually, I made the decision to start seeing a therapist. Oftentimes, they would challenge me to reflect on how I can lean on the people in my life for support. During the beginning of the pandemic, I was feeling extremely isolated from my friends and community, like the rest of the world. My therapist suggested that I reach out to my friends and go on socially distant walks, because video calls and Zoom fatigue were starting to get to me. For most, therapy can be an individual journey, but in my case, it extended to involve the support of my community. My experience with therapy quickly challenged the understanding that I had grown accustomed to through my upbringing in a Chinese household. 

When it comes to asking for help, many Chinese folks believe that there is no need to seek outside help. You will find the solution with the help of your family. Involving outsiders may send a message that the family is incapable of taking care of their own. For many Asian folks, therapy is considered an individual treatment that eliminates the family’s ability to help out their loved ones. My grandma is a prime example, as she is a walking encyclopedia of traditional Chinese medicine. She has a soup recipe for nearly every physical ailment out there. But when it comes to mental health, she quickly navigates away from the topic.

The topic of mental health is more readily accepted in my immediate family now. I know my grandma still struggles with talking about mental health openly, but she entertains my thoughts when I bring them up. It became especially difficult for my family to avoid the topic once I started graduate school, because if they wanted to hear about my work, they would need to talk about mental health. Over time, it is slowly becoming more normal for my parents and I to have an honest conversation. The exception my family makes towards me and my passion for mental health is something I hope can expand to the rest of our community some day. 

Our community, especially our elders, are used to tiptoeing around the mental health conversation. That is how we were all raised. They passed down certain cultural expectations and behaviors to us, but we have the ability to challenge that. We have the agency to decide what values we want to carry on. Initially, I thought I had to sacrifice one set of values when it came to mental health. But over time, I have realized that I can incorporate both my Chinese and American values into my work as a therapist. 

My cultural understanding of being Chinese American will inform the way I provide therapy for those who grew up with similar backgrounds. Some folks like myself would prefer a therapist who comes from a similar background, so that they can better understand and relate. I hope to do the same for my future clients. Furthermore, my American cultural influences allow me to cultivate a space that is more accepting towards vulnerability and emotions. Being vulnerable can sometimes be viewed as a weakness, but in my opinion, being vulnerable takes a lot of strength and bravery.  

There is no one size fits all when it comes to therapeutic techniques. This is especially true for Asian American communities. For second-generation and beyond Asian Americans, we grow up in a bi/multicultural household and our values may be quite different than our immigrant parents and elders. As shared by my parents and grandparents, good health is all that matters. But good health includes mental health.