The Immigrant Experience & The Necessary Pursuit of Wellness

“David hates himself for not being better than his Dad. That’s the job of sons.” In Beartown, author Fredrik Backman weaves a complex tale of the aftermath, in the wake of a harrowing incident, that brings a small hockey town to its knees. David is a man coming to terms with a cruel realization. He has failed to grow past his own father’s limitations. For our purposes, let’s assume him to mean this is the job of children -- that growth is expected to increase from one generation to the next. And so, it poses the question: Are we obliged to do, and be, more? David would agree. Barring extenuating barriers, that would be our job. Success, however, is a relative term. To many, being better could mean being wealthier. Many parents might likely believe this. To others, it could mean enlightenment -- a happier, balanced, more aware person. A generation that has grown up in modern western civilization, would have much more in the way of liberal mindedness. We can certainly afford to, right? We did not have that struggle of starting with ‘nothing’, of emigrating to a new place, like those in the generation before us. Their resilience is unmatched. They did what they had to do: worked hard, and saved hard, adjusting, conforming, learning. In a momentum that was collaterally unfocused on the duality we, the children, lived in -- being part of the dominant culture yet also part of a familial one. Since that duality was more than often hidden, our parents didn’t always see the precarious balance we maintained -- walking that tightrope between being what they wanted, and what we (thought we) wanted. Succeeding as a generation, they truly did the best they could, their questions of the universe being: How can I make more money? Can I feed my family and support them? What do I need to do, to move up? Theirs were concrete questions with concrete answers. While we questioned very little, we watched and we listened. Today’s questions of the universe are murkier: Am I happy? Am I fulfilled? How can I improve this world? Does the luxury of this existence, borne from today’s emphasis on “wellness”, make us duty-bound to be better? Unfettered by the demands of migration, and liberated by free-minded thinking, that we come into as adults, we can focus on emotional balance. Now. Growing up, many feelings were put aside, for the greater good. Storage. Our parents were busy. We didn’t, or believe we couldn’t, bother them. For many, there was no room for abstract emotion. No room for seeking therapeutic guidance, communicating complex feelings, and understanding inner happiness. This was just not on the list.

It is important to note that not all immigrant experiences are the same. Not everyone has the same pressures. Having said that, Jhumpa Lahiri beautifully describes in The Namesake, the nuances of relocating from one country to another. She writes of a new existence: “...a perpetual wait, a constant burden, a continuous feeling out of sorts. It is an ongoing responsibility, a parenthesis in what had once been an ordinary life, only to discover that previous life has vanished, replaced by something more complicated and demanding.” This existence was hard. And in affording basic necessities, making a life, and moving forward, many parents never understood the lives we were living. In our mellowed thinking, we know that at times their struggles, palpable and numerous, left the tank empty. Though not always. Perhaps in some homes, children took that soft step toward communicating needs and wants. Perhaps in these homes, the emotional easter eggs were somehow, someway visible. My best friend says her mom, while strict, was also often mindful of her teenage daughter’s well-being and stability. Another recalls that her mom was the one all cousins went to, for problems they couldn’t talk about at home. These women move me. More commonly, the hardships involved in ‘making it’ in a new world -- assimilating, and prospering -- maybe made inner difficulties less important, less seen. Without even realizing it, many of us kept emotional needs at bay. In an Instagram poll conducted on this very topic, this question was posed: Growing up, what do you wish your parents knew you struggled with? The most common responses paint an insightful picture: not fitting in, bullying, feeling sad, identity, sexuality, self-confidence, body image, being brown, feeling anxious. With maturity, comes understanding: our parents did not know. We stayed quiet. Probably acting out or communicating these feelings in other ways. Or worse, not. Indeed, all of this makes for a powerful analysis: perhaps they did not question our conceptual happiness because our parents did not question their own.

At some point, a person takes stock of their life. So here we are. We can worry about contentment as a theoretical abstract, measuring ourselves against internal criteria. And even with money, happiness is not guaranteed. The generation before often equated the two. We don’t. Necessarily. Those who have it, perhaps want more. Those who don’t, well, aside from worrying about income, livelihood, and bills, which are real concerns, also worry about wellness. While some still do not find mental health to be a genuine concern, there are others who see it, feel it, live it -- through themself or a loved one -- a sort of badge of perception. Either way, understanding the struggle, and that it is real, is necessary for our own humanity. Not everyone can “shake it off”. People wrestle. Demons. Traumas. It all comes after us. Those who guide, may value earning a higher income (“saving money”), over addressing the bigger stumbling blocks: the social and emotional crises that surface on a daily basis. In the traditional school of thought, moving along in auto-pilot brings contentment: follow the rules, go to school, get a job, get married, have kids, buy a house. In this natural order of sorts, this familiar momentum, there is no room for interruptions. No time to find yourself. And thus, the slippery slope many today find themselves on: I followed the steps, where is my happiness? And if this is the case, is this why we struggle? Because we got here, got woke, too late in the game? Are we -- the product of combining two cultures, two generations -- always going to come up short? Are we as some would say “never happy” because we are only now addressing all that we couldn’t before? It is too late? Whatever we struggled with emotionally, mentally, socially, we kept to ourselves -- as we propelled ourselves through school, jobs, relationships. And now here we are.

Newer thinking gives weight to a different way of living: love yourself, pursue your passions, travel, be mindful. Wellness is a luxury afforded us today. It is not too late. Freed from the burdens held by the generation before us, why not pursue these abstracts? What if they could have focused on emotional growth, ours and their own? Lahiri writes, “Assured by his grades and his apparent indifference to girls, his parents didn’t suspect Gogol of being, in his own fumbling way, an American teenager”. His parents, like many, couldn’t suspect otherwise. Couldn’t fathom social struggles. A good report card often meant all is well. A bad one was exactly that: an isolated problem in and of itself, rather than a symptom. Again, not all realities are identical, and not all children of immigrants see the world the same way. Reciting the Lord’s Prayer every single day of elementary school, as a non-Christian, went over the heads of many. At the time, myself included. It was just done. For some this was okay. The questioning only comes now. What are we doing, given all the opportunities afforded us in this life, to be better? To be happier? To learn from yesterday? If we are allowed this privilege, to seek wellness, take stock, and question the past, then mustn’t we? Given all that those before us endured, neglecting such growth would certainly be a shame. Websites, podcasts, social media, careers, YouTube, and text upon text are built on the ideas of mindfulness, and enlightenment. And given the number of people in crisis, why wait? The time is now. Ask questions. Push the envelope. Reconcile the past. Try. We cannot just assume a satisfactory status quo. Particularly if past trauma could at any time ‘rear its ugly head’. Like it has for Beartown’s David. Unsuccessful in his quest for growth, he “sits in the car crying with anger. He’s ashamed. He’s disgusted. At himself.” By not exhibiting nor conveying emotional betterment and openness, with none of the possible barriers that his own father had, “...there’s no other way to explain how much a grown man must have failed as a person…” It is a powerful revelation for David. It is a powerful revelation for anyone.

Everything is right here, at our emotional fingertips. What was beyond the grasp of the generation before is ripe for our intellectual taking. We live. We really live. Many of us ourselves are parents, or deal with children. This next generation. Is a good report card enough? Is quiet acquiescence the ideal? It can be argued that looking for red flags outside of academic success or financial prosperity is one of our most critical obligations. One that is entirely possible. How many times has a parent of now, lain awake, fretting over a child’s emotional state, versus a low mark? How often do we look at that child, and wonder about their current and future happiness? Is it more than we question their potential wealth? How much has a parent worried about self-esteem? What value should we place on external criteria, when internal identity is possibly compromised? Children today should not have to stay quiet. For there is a cost in that. Maybe there will not have to be an online poll in 25 years: what do you wish your parents knew? We must demonstrate progress in our communication. We have no excuse.

Bottom line: if self-esteem, identity, mindfulness, and ultimately, happiness are real areas of focus, then why not make them a priority? Can’t we be better? That is the job of sons, and daughters. Because we can question abstract ideas, we do. Because we know what emotional growth is, what mental wellness is, we must covet a life in pursuit of it. We do it for ourselves and for our children. Traumas heal. People grow. Change comes. Never automatic, never easy, but entirely possible. Ashima, in The Namesake, can count the few places she has lived in her life, the five addresses: “her parents’ flat in Calcutta, her in-laws’ house for one month, the house they rented in Cambridge, living below the Montgomerys, the faculty apartment on campus, and, lastly, the one they own now. One hand, five homes. A lifetime in a fist.” And if we can just for a moment, translate those homes into the lives we live, the many lives we live in just one life, perhaps it is the same. One hand, five lives. Still a lifetime in a fist, but one that is balanced, mindful, and strong.

Sources:

Backman, Fredrik. Beartown. Atria Books,

Lahiri, Jhumpa. The Namesake. Houghton Mifflin, 2003.