In honor of Asian Pacific American Mental Health Day, AAMMS revisits its roots and considers the impact of a mantra like "It Gets Better."
Forced piano lessons: a running joke in Asian America, calling to mind women named Amy (Tan, Chua...). Sam goes beyond the cliches to define the significance of piano in her childhood home.
Being the son of a Hardass Asian Dad is as hard as you think it would be. A moving post from AAMMS' first male guest writer.
It’s perfectly normal to meet several therapists before deciding on one with whom you feel a good rapport. As with dating, “that didn’t suck” is not a high enough bar.
This month's AAMMS post was submitted as a comment from a reader. Since I'm not doing this alone -- this column is about collective wisdom -- I'm going to be featuring readers' stories from time to time.
And much as I hate giving the writer more press, it's not an option to say nothing as, dangerously, she proselytizes to others her "Chinese mothering" strategies. Her piece opens like this:
The phone is in as visible an area as there is, and I am petrified that crying will make me seem unstable, prove that I am only faking, and they will keep me now even longer, but even as patients and nurses walk right by me, careful not to look, I cannot stop.
I did not want to attend Group Therapy, strongly averse to the idea of sharing personal information (even if strategically fictionalized) with the shufflers and hunchers, the lounging men of sudden hellos.
There is a breakfast call at around 7 a.m., but I ask my roommate for the time and decline the meal, telling the staff that I don’t eat breakfast. By 8 a.m. I am up though, because it counts against you to sleep the day away. There are activities, and a patient's attendance or absence is recorded.
I am given two sets of light blue pajamas, cotton pants and short-sleeve shirt with snap buttons, and except for the Marin General Hospital printed on the pocket, they’re not unattractive, functional and even comfortable. People wear them, together or mixed with other tops and bottoms, during the day too -- but I am strict with myself not to; they make you look like you belong here.
The previous issue of Hyphen is available in its entirety for your perusing pleasure. Almost as good as having it right in your hands!