Intergenerational Dialogues: Bridging Mental Health Across Bangladeshi Generations

Not too long ago, a Bangladeshi mom I work with said something that stuck with me:

“When my daughter told me she was in therapy, I didn’t know whether to feel scared, offended, or proud.” I remember sitting with that for a while. That mix of fear, pride, confusion says so much about where many of our families are still at when it comes to mental health. 

While first-generation immigrants often carry the weight of survival having lived through political instability, economic hardship, and forced migration; their children navigate emotional challenges shaped by bicultural identity, generational expectations, and internalized guilt. When a child says, “I’m struggling,” and a parent replies, “Don’t say things like that, we didn’t raise you to be weak,” it quietly shuts the door. But what if there was a possibility of something different. Not perfect,  just different. And maybe more honest? This blog explores the cultural and emotional dynamics that make intergenerational mental health dialogue difficult in Bangladeshi households and highlights how therapy can support both generations in building more open, empathetic relationships.

Why It Feels So Hard to Talk

For first-generation Bangladeshi immigrants, mental health is frequently viewed through a lens of stigma, moral framing (emotional distress is often spiritualized or minimized) or somatization (symptoms of anxiety and depression are commonly described in physical terms, such as gastric distress, fatigue, or body aches, with limited recognition of their emotional origins). This isn’t just about parents being older or “not getting it.” It’s deeper. It's emotional. It’s cultural. But their children are learning different language around mental health. They might talk about burnout, anxiety, boundaries, emotional safety… and suddenly the house might feel like two different worlds under one roof.

In therapy, I’ve heard things like:

• “Maa tells me to just pray and be strong”

• “Baba thinks I’m ungrateful if I say I feel overwhelmed.”

• “I want to talk to them, but they’ve already gone through so much. I don’t want to seem like I’m complaining.”

  
  

Emotional needs are frequently under-acknowledged, not due to neglect, but due to limited language and societal tools. This cultural mismatch creates a tension that manifests in guilt, silence, and miscommunication at home.

What Happens When We Don’t Talk

Without open communication, emotional issues often go unacknowledged and untreated. This may lead to:

• Kids start hiding how they really feel

• Parents feel unappreciated or left out

• Shame creeps in quietly

• Delayed intervention for mood and anxiety disorders

• Everyone starts drifting, even while living under the same roof

• Reinforcement of maladaptive coping patterns across generations

  
  

The intention might be to protect each other, but silence often creates distance, not safety.

How Therapy Can Help

Therapy is not about blaming parents or forgetting culture. It is not about becoming Western or letting go of values. It is about creating space. Space to name what you are feeling, to look at what shaped you, and to try a new way of relating. Therapy can help unpack guilt, make sense of identity, and find tools to cope all without shutting out your roots. For parents, therapy can offer a place to process the grief of migration, to understand your children better, and to reflect on your own upbringing.

It is not about who is right or wrong. It is about building something stronger together.

Starting Small: One Conversation at a Time

Most Bangladeshi families are not built for “big emotional talks” and that is okay. Healing often happens in the small moments: in the car, while cooking, over even watching TV together.

If you want to open a door, try:

• “Maa, what was it like for you to be sad when you were younger?”

• “Abbu, what was the hardest part of leaving Bangladesh?”

• “Can I share something that’s been on my mind lately?”

  
  

Even if they cannot fully get it, your effort makes an impression. Often it is not a lack of love, it is a lack of tools.

For Parents Who Are Trying to Understand

If you're a Bangladeshi parent reading this first of all, thank you. I know it takes courage. And I want to say this gently:If your child is in therapy, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed them. It likely means they trust you enough to want you in their life while they figure things out. It means you raised someone who wants to grow and that’s something to be proud of.

A Simple Family Practice to Incorporate

Once a week, during dinner or while watching TV, try something simple:

• Everyone names one emotion they felt that week. That’s it.

Nothing dramatic. No need to fix or advise. Just listen.

If English feels unnatural, mix it up:

• “Ajke amar mone hocchey….” [Today I am feeling..]

• “Buk e chaap lagchey” [My chest hurts = signs of physical distress from anxiety

• “Ei feeling er naam ache?” [Does this feeling have a name?]

Over time, you are not just building emotional fluency,  you are showing each other it’s okay to feel.

In Bangladeshi culture, love is often shown through food, sacrifice, and spirituality. That kind of love is powerful. But love can also look like saying, “How are you really?” or “I’m listening.”

Let’s create room for both.

Resources 

Khan, F. (2023). Mental Health in Bangladeshi Immigrant Families: Challenges and Care Pathways.

BRAC Institute of Educational Development (2021). Mental health stigma in urban Bangladeshi households: A qualitative study.