Repression & Self-Sacrifice: the Asian American Female Problem

This is a topic that is really important to me, and personally relevant.

We talked a lot about repression in the second of the mental health talks by the AAWA , which featured two female psychologist guest speakers, one from Harvard's Bureau of Study Counsel, and the other from Cambridge Health Alliance. It was a pretty nice turnout of about 15 students (all female, except one male).

Dr. Sunglim Shin opened by saying something that would be a theme: Asian American women often forget to take care of themselves, because they are so busy taking care of others.

I'm sure this is not only an Asian American thing but perhaps a female thing, but I think it's double whammy for Asian American females.

Partly, it's because Asian cultures tend to not talk about their feelings, and express things in a round-about way, rather than directly.

We talked about the silent treatment that Asians tend to do, and many girls in the room murmured in agreement.

When Americans punish their kids, they put them in the room (time out), but the Asian kids they put them outside and shut the door, Dr. Idee Kumiko said. The idea is "you're not our kids, you're not our family members anymore"

Dr. Shin mentioned that there's a curse in korean that denotes you as a "non-person" or you're on the outside, which is the ultimate form of insult, rendering them a non-meaningful person. That's why in a collective culture like Asian culture, it's so important to belong, to not make waves.

One student mentioned that when she was a kid, her father would punish her by completely cutting off communication with her, and that to this day, if she's ignored by someone she cares about or is beginning to care about, it gives her anxiety when the person doesn't talk to her. She starts to feel that she did something wrong. She realizes now that it's not applicable outside her family, but stems from that childhood fear, where there was no evaluation of what you did wrong, just a complete stop, complete silence.

I can relate. I used to do that, and sometimes still slip back into it, but I try to avoid that passive-aggressive treatment now. I can also relate to the father's strictness, although in a different way. My dad didn't do the silent treatment as much as angry outbursts, but the silence before the storm was always the worst. I also remember that there was never "sorry" from my dad growing up, but he would apologize through his actions then instead: a hug, cooking me my favorite meal. I love my dad, and I know he loves me, but I have to say that this form of communication was probably not the best.

Basically, in an Asian household there's no talking back, and the father is always right, which promotes repression. I learned to hold things inside of me, to censor myself, to express myself fully only through writing. I learned to avoid eye contact and to hide my feelings, to compose my face as much as I could, to protect myself through feigned stoicism. It's something I'm still trying to undo.

I'm sure many of you (who are Asian American females) can relate to this?

Dr. Kumiko also touched on this aspect in romantic relationships. She said in her clinical experience, she noticed that many Asian women tend to hold things in, unconsciously expecting their partner to know what's on their mind, and then they burst because they can't take it anymore that the other person has no idea why/how upset they are. So they blow up.

"That's my mom every other day," said the only guy at the talk. Everyone laughed.

But it's somewhat true, and scary.

Dr. Kumiko also mentioned an interesting case study, where an Asian woman started going to counseling because of her relationship problems with her Caucasian boyfriend, mentioning the whole repression thing. But the underlying problem was that her parents gave her immense pressure as a child to excel in school, always criticizing, and never praising, so that she never felt good enough. Actually, she was very bright and went to university at the age of 14, but every little mistake seemed like a giant, insurmountable failure to her, bringing tons of guilt.

One incident involved her presentation in front of faculty not going well, which caused her to feel that she not only failed herself, but worse, failed her professor (whom she admired deeply) and made him lose face. This sent her into a severe depression and suicidal thoughts. At that point, her parents were extremely worried and told her that she didn't have to work so hard, that maybe she could major in something easier, but it only made her feel worse, because she felt that they had give up on her. At any rate, there is a happy ending to this case. The woman went to three years of individual therapy and gradually realized that her self-worth was independent from others' opinions, that failures weren't the end of the world. She also realized that her boyfriend never understood her, even as she tried to understand him and adjust to his beliefs, so she broke up with him. Dr. Kumiko said that she was doing quite well now.

A few other students shared their own experiences and battles with identity and depression, which was very powerful. For Asian Americans, who don't feel comfortable talking about their feelings, and for whom mental illness carries an even larger stigma than for white Americans, I found this event to be a good step in changing things.