Self Care & Guilt

In order to meaningfully discuss the interconnection between self-care and selfishness, we need to address how guilt and generational differences shape our understanding of what self-care means within the South Asian community.

Part I: The Guilt of Putting Yourself First

The South Asian community is rooted in principles like harmony, unity, and collectivism: the needs of the group are prioritized over individual desires. These values, while beautiful and important, can create an environment where tending to your personal needs is viewed as selfish.

For example, showing respect to elders—even when you disagree with them—or consistently putting your family’s needs above your own have long been considered the norm. These values aren’t inherently harmful, but when they’re rigidly enforced, they can blur the line between love and obligation .Rigid expectations to always defer to elders or constantly prioritize family over your own needs can lead to chronic self-neglect, suppressed emotions, and difficulty forming a strong personal identity. Over time, this pattern may create guilt, resentment, and burnout, making it harder for individuals to set healthy boundaries or recognize what they genuinely want.

We need to reframe how we view individual needs. They should not be seen as a threat to the community, but rather as a way to foster the very relationships that South Asian culture holds sacred. Valuing individual needs doesn’t take away from South Asian traditions of family and community—it actually strengthens them. In many South Asian households, love is often shown through care, sacrifice, and togetherness. Yet when each person’s voice and choices are respected—whether it’s a daughter choosing a different career path, a son expressing emotional vulnerability, or someone setting boundaries for their well-being—it brings a deeper kind of understanding to relationships. These small acts of acknowledgment show that respect can coexist with tradition. When families and friends make space for individuality, relationships become more genuine and supportive, reflecting the true spirit of South Asian culture: compassion, connection, and collective strength built on mutual respect.

For South Asian Americans, especially those born to immigrant parents, this internal conflict can become very intense. Their parents' sacrifices are often worn like a badge of honor—proof of resilience, strength, and love. But that sacrifice can become a burden for the next generation, who feel pressure to make it all worth it.

So when a South Asian adult sets a personal boundary such as saying “no” to a family dinner or skipping a celebration, it’s often seen as selfish—even if it’s an act of survival like protecting their mental health during a depressive episode or avoiding a triggering family dynamic that consistently leaves them emotionally overwhelmed. People around them may say: “Why did you suddenly change?” or “You don’t care about us anymore.”

The question remains: Why is taking care of your own needs viewed as selfish?

Part II: The Generational Tug-of-War

Many of the values we hold dear have been passed down through generations—shaped by trauma, migration, colonization, and survival. For our great-grandparents and grandparents, and even our parents, self-sacrifice was necessary. Long hours, multiple jobs, and enduring systemic discrimination without complaint were the norm. In that world, rest wasn’t self-care—it was a liability. While these generations still deserved rest, they were not afforded the privilege of it.  

 It makes sense then that when younger generations speak the language of mental health, boundaries, or self-worth, it doesn’t always translate. As children of immigrants, it can be hard to implement self-care because it feels like we’re going against everything our families taught us. There’s a tension between honoring the sacrifices made for us and carving a life that feels authentic.

Younger South Asians today often have more access to basic needs—and with that comes a shift in values. We are starting to see burnout, anxiety, and intergenerational trauma not as personal failures, but rather as signs that something deeper needs healing.

Bridging that gap at home, however, can come with challenges:    

●      A daughter sets a boundary around her time and is met with silent treatment.

●      A son chooses a creative career over a “stable” one and is accused of dishonoring the family.

●      A nonbinary South Asian refuses to attend a traditional wedding and is told they’re tearing the family apart.

These aren’t just generational misunderstandings—they are emotional fault lines.

If our well-being collapses under the weight of obligation, who benefits?

Part III: Reframing Self-Care as Cultural Preservation

Here’s the truth: self-care is not selfish—it’s sustainable. Self care sustains the energy and empathy needed to maintain strong relationships with family and friends. which leads And ironically, it can be the very thing that preserves South Asian culture, rather than letting younger generations reject it.      

Many of the wellness practices that dominate today’s trends—mindfulness, yoga, Ayurveda, herbal remedies—are rooted in South Asian traditions. But these practices have often been stripped of cultural context and rebranded through a Western lens.

What if we reclaimed them? Not just as trends, but as ancestral healing tools that reminds us  that our culture has always had space for wellness, even if we weren’t taught to access it that way.    

Self-care doesn’t mean abandoning your culture or family. It can mean:

●      Saying no, so you can show up more fully when you say yes.

●      Going to therapy to unlearn generational trauma—not to reject your upbringing, but to honor it with honesty.

●      Taking rest not because you're lazy, but because you're human—and humans need rest.

In fact, setting boundaries, prioritizing mental health, and tending to your well-being can be some of the most radical acts of love in a culture that taught us to endure silently.

We can love our elders and still do things differently.
We can honor our roots and still prune the parts that no longer serve us.
We can be South Asian and still choose ourselves.

Final Thoughts: Choosing Yourself Is Not a Crime

To care for yourself is not a betrayal of your family or your culture. It is an act of preservation—not just of your personal well-being, but of a future where the next generation of South Asians can live more freely, more fully, and more authentically.

The next time you’re told you’re being selfish for resting, refusing, or asking for space, remember this:

             You are breaking a cycle, not a bond.

            And that is something to be proud of.

About the Author:

Shruthi is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor based in New York, currently practicing at Greenberg Psychological Services. As a second-generation Indian American and daughter of immigrants, Shruthi brings a deep personal understanding to her work with BIPOC communities, with a special focus on supporting South Asian individuals navigating the unique challenges of bicultural identity.

Shruthi works primarily with adults dealing with anxiety, depression, life transitions, self esteem, chronic health conditions (such as PCOS, thyroid disorders, etc…), and issues related to people-pleasing, shame, guilt, and family dynamics. She also specializes in helping clients process intergenerational trauma and contextualize their identities within their cultural backgrounds.

A passionate advocate for de-stigmatizing mental health in the South Asian community, Shruthi regularly appears on podcasts, panels, and speaking engagements across various organizations. She shares educational and culturally informed mental health content on Instagram and TikTok as @boldbrowntherapist—a platform she created to empower others through representation, storytelling, and healing.

Shruthi lives in New Jersey with her husband, loves traveling the world, and has been learning and performing Indian classical dance since the age of four.