This post is part 1 of a series.

Growing up, I frequently overheard whispered conversations about relationship struggles in my South Asian community. Often, the stories involved young men discovering after marriage that their wife had an undisclosed mental health condition.

Typically, families would react with shock, saying, “Had we known the girl had these issues, we never would have let that marriage happen.” Rarely was their concern about what she might have been experiencing. Instead, the focus was: “The poor husband, he’s such a good guy. What bad karma.”

Occasionally, I would hear about a husband’s struggles—again, he would receive sympathy, but the concerns usually centered on the impact to his career rather than his mental health, i.e. being laid off or having to take time off. Meanwhile, many of the affected women quietly become the emotional breadwinners of the family, juggling work, children, and a partner who refused to seek help.

“It was only after my husband began experiencing paranoia at work and had to go to doctor that I found out they have a history of schizophrenia in the family. His family is very hush hush about it, obviously; it’s not something people share. Still, I wish I had known that this was a possibility.” —Rani, 35

Disclosing mental health concerns is a personal choice, but it can be especially challenging within the South Asian community. While physical illness is more openly discussed, mental health remains highly stigmatized, reinforcing messages to “stay away from alliances with those who are emotionally weak.”

Unfortunately, “Many people grow up with deeply judgmental beliefs about mental health, mental illness, therapy, and even the idea of needing support,” says Tanya Mitra, certified life coach and founder of The REMIXED Relationship. “In my experience, many of the people who hold those beliefs may have benefited from support themselves but were never taught to recognize it or see seeking help as an option.”

In the case of Rani and many others, the complexity lies in the fact that her husband’s family didn’t share about their mental health history for fear of being discriminated against as an alliance. But on the other hand, silence on the issue made Rani feel blind-sided. Yet the greater challenge isn’t choosing a partner with mental health concerns, it’s when those concerns remain hidden, untreated, or unspoken about within the relationship.

Imagination vs. Reality in South Asian Relationships

“She was fine until she wasn’t. I don’t know what happened. She’s angry and tearful all the time. She used to be full of life and fun. I wish we could go back to that.” —Rajiv, 28

“We are taught (thanks Bollywood!) that love and romance is exciting, fun, and bring out the best in us,” says Ankur Varma, psychotherapist and founder of BrownManTherapy. While Indian cinema often sets unrealistic expectations for romance, Varma notes that “building a long-term relationship is about weathering storms, the ebbs and flows of the relationship as well as the human with whom we’re partnering. This means that we need to share our challenges and learn ways of supporting each other. Sometimes stigma means that there isn’t space to share these things.”

Yet many South Asians are never taught how to have these conversations.

Navigating relationships is seldom discussed in South Asian families, where parents often choose to show rather than tell. In previous generations, advice was usually tailored around narrow gender-specific behaviors. Girls were often taught not to complain, while boys were taught to be strong and stoic for the family. There were few dialogues on how to assert yourself, share emotions, deal with sex, or be vulnerable. These topics were either ignored, frowned upon, or seen as indulgent.

While these patterns are changing, some scripts remain untouched. Conversations about how mental health may affect a future marriage are even rarer. As Varma explains: “I think culturally, we believe that marriage is a mandatory step in life, and it’s an indicator of success. When we frame it that way, we sometimes skip over the actual relationship building that is necessary to long-term relational success, things like communication, support, resilience, etc.”

Too often, this one-dimensional view of marriage overlooks the emotional skills needed to sustain a healthy partnership. Often times, an amorphous idea of “love” is used as an antidote to all problems as well as a reason not to share deeper issues. Varma astutely states that due to love and “the pressure to get married, we tend to hide away some of the negatives or avoid the harder conversations, which can really come back to bite us.”

The line of questioning parents have about potential partners (which often serve as fodder for humor among the diaspora) are indeed problematic. Questions regarding achievement and education, career choice, and family background are often posed in judgmental terms (i.e. do they have a “good” job are they from a “good’ family, etc.). These could be posed with more nuance, as well as the introduction of deeper and more meaningful questions: How do they handle stress? Or communicate difficult emotions? What is their willingness to seek help? These questions may ultimately matter far more than whether someone has experienced depression, anxiety, or other mental health challenges.

Looking Ahead: Supporting Each Other for the Long Haul

So, what happens when the honeymoon phase or wedding is over and real life/marriage begins? Once two lives become intertwined, struggles that were once private become relational. This is where the conversation must shift, from whether someone has mental health challenges to how couples navigate them together.

Stay tuned for Part 2: “When Love Becomes Caregiving”