Does Our Mental Health Matter Yet?

Words by Kabita Bhandari (she/her) & Sreymuch Soth (she/her)

As an immigrant, your daily existence is riddled with conflicts and contradictions between multiple cultures that are unique to one another. You carry these encounters and experiences with you, and they sometimes manifest in mental health struggles.

Mental health is unfortunately not a major focus for the bulk of immigrant households. Instead, challenges are readily addressed as temporary. I (Srey) casually mentioned my anxieties about mental health with my mother. Her first response targeted my body and health, which is common in immigrant households. “Go for a walk,” “Get off your phone,” and “Drink water” are just a few of the many remedies that never get to the root of the problem. Migrant youth walk a tightrope between our roots and the culture that we are trying to blend in with. 

In the eyes of some immigrant families, therapy is for white people. Many Asians, for example, have a cultural explanatory model of mental illness that does not necessarily match Western notions. For some, there is significant shame and stigma attached to mental illness. Those who do seek help will do so only if the situation becomes severe, and even then, the help will often be religious or spiritual advice. This is not to claim that this path is incorrect; rather, the trouble is that Aotearoa's existing services are unable to adapt to the fast-changing immigrant demographics of its population.

Student Health offers thirteen counselors for its 22000 students, three of whom are people of colour, to support individuals from more than 100 countries. Yes, the service is free (for domestic students, international students pay $36–72 per session), but asking students to be satisfied with the current service is a bit much. It is difficult to ask for immediate help with only thirteen counselors on hand. On top of it all, students are currently facing hardship in all areas such as housing, minimum wage, and daily expenses.

As a result, immigrant youth who try to seek therapy face roadblocks within our services. We are all aware of how costly it is to see a therapist in New Zealand. The Government's 2019 Wellbeing Budget included $455 million for a heavy focus on mental wellbeing. Three years later, we haven’t felt any notable changes. As university students, it is illogical to expect us to seek private mental healthcare. So, where do we go from here? Student Health.

In 2020, I (Kabita) approached Student Health, desperate to discuss my mental wellbeing. My GP notified me that I would be paired with a white man who was the best and most experienced the university had to offer. After a few sessions, where all I felt was a lack of understanding and compassion for my cultural background, I was handed a three-month free membership to the university recreation center.

Our mental wellbeing is destined to suffer when we are forced to balance two cultures in one body. For many migrant children, discussing personal concerns with their parents can manifest feelings of guilt. Since we know they've given up so many opportunities so we can have them instead, we downplay our issues to the point where we believe they are not valid. We compromise our own well-being in order to avoid causing hurt to our loved ones. We prolong a cycle that we know isn't productive or fair to ourselves.

To encourage our migrant youth to seek mental health support, our services must first demonstrate that they can represent our needs and offer cultural sensitivity. Acknowledging the cultural barriers inside our institutions is a great first step to ensuring that our mental wellbeing is seen as a more crucial part of our lives.