Breaking the Silence Without Breaking Ties

In alignment with SAMHIN’s mission to foster open dialogue about mental health within the South Asian community and highlight the meaningful contributions of those advancing this work, we invited Aanya Jajoo, graduate student in mental health counseling at Teachers College, Columbia University with a strong dedication to improving mental health outcomes, to share her thoughts about conversations on mental health in the South Asian families.

If you grew up in a South Asian family, you may have learned early on how to keep things moving; do well in school, manage stress quietly, and not “make things bigger than they need to be.” So, when you start struggling emotionally, it’s often not the pain itself that feels hardest. It’s figuring out how, or whether, to talk about it at home.

In many South Asian families, mental health is not something we openly talk about, it’s something we manage quietly. Conversations about anxiety, therapy, or emotional distress are often met with silence, discomfort, or a quick attempt to “fix” the problem. This doesn’t usually come from a lack of care. More often, it comes from fear: fear of stigma, fear of being judged, and fear of not knowing what to do once a difficult topic is named.

Many of us are functioning well on the outside, meeting expectations, achieving milestones, taking care of responsibilities, while feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, or emotionally stuck on the inside. When we try to name this, we may hear responses like “Don’t think so much,” “Be strong,” or “Everyone has stress.” These words can feel dismissive, and sometimes they are. But often, they reflect limited emotional language rather than limited love.

Starting a mental health conversation in a South Asian family is less about using the “right” clinical terms and more about building a bridge between different emotional languages. What one generation calls anxiety or depression, another may call stress, pressure, or a tired mind. Beginning with shared language can make it easier for family members to stay engaged rather than defensive.

Instead of leading with labels, it can help to describe your experience in everyday terms: “I’ve been feeling constantly on edge,” “My sleep hasn’t been good,” or “I’m managing everything, but it feels heavy most days.” Connecting how you feel to how it affects your daily life often makes the concern more understandable and harder to dismiss.

It’s also helpful to expect that your family may respond in ways that feel unhelpful, even when they mean well. Advice like “Just pray,” “Stay busy,” or “Others have it worse” is often an attempt to comfort or protect, not to invalidate. If you can, gently redirect the conversation toward what you need. You might say, “I know you’re trying to help. What would help most right now is just listening,” or “I’m not looking for solutions yet, I just want you to understand.”

Being clear about the kind of support you’re asking for can make a meaningful difference. Support might look like checking in occasionally, respecting privacy, or being open to professional help, even if it feels unfamiliar. Naming these needs directly can reduce confusion and defensiveness on both sides.

Not every conversation will go smoothly. Feeling misunderstood doesn’t mean you failed, it means change is slow and often uneven. For many people, starting with one trusted family member, or seeking support outside the family, makes these conversations easier over time. Opening up about mental health in South Asian families is not just a personal step; it’s a quiet act of courage. Progress doesn’t come from saying everything perfectly. It comes from choosing honesty over silence, one conversation at a time.

By Aanya Jajoo
Aanya Jajoo (she/her) is a graduate student in mental health counseling at Teachers College, Columbia University. Her clinical interests include adolescent and family therapy, intergenerational trauma, and culturally responsive mental health care. She is a dedicated SAMHIN volunteer.