Building the Right Kind of Community

This excerpt is in conjunction with Mental Health Awareness Month with the theme of "Community".

Recently, I overheard a conversation between some relatives about a distant family member showing signs of emotional distress. Instead of concern or empathy, I heard jokes, blame, and familiar phrases: "What could he possibly be going through? I’ve gone through so much worse. You just have to deal with it. No matter how you feel, just show up and put up with it."

The message was clear: suppress your feelings, smile through the pain, and move on. It reminded me how deeply misunderstood mental health still is in the environment I grew up in.

In Malaysia, conversations about mental health remain taboo, and awareness is still limited. In my own family, emotions were often brushed aside. Struggles weren’t acknowledged but dismissed, joked about, or labeled as weakness. When I tried to express my feelings growing up, the responses sounded like this:

"Just go and pray."

"In my time, we had it so much worse than you."

"Be grateful. Others have it worse."

"Stop complaining. People have real problems."

It became a competition of who suffered more, as though your feelings only mattered if they were the worst. Though often well-intentioned, these responses discouraged me from opening up. I learned silence was safer than vulnerability, and masking emotions was easier than risking judgment.

But small, unexpected moments slowly shifted my perspective. Like when a teacher gently checked in after class because she noticed I seemed upset. Or when a friend helped me by simply listening and sharing their own struggles. Or the university counsellors who validated my feelings and treated them seriously. These moments showed me that support doesn’t always come in dramatic gestures—sometimes just being heard feels like a lifeline.

A supportive community, even if small, makes a world of difference. It reminds you that you’re not alone. That your emotions are valid. That your struggles don’t make you weak. When people listen without judgment and try to understand—even imperfectly—it lifts a hidden weight many of us carry.

Community can be a beautiful reminder that it’s okay not to be okay, and that you’ll be cared for anyway. By being honest about our struggles, we create space for others to do the same. That’s when healing begins. In some ways, community can become a barrier, but it can also be a blessing.

I often find myself caught between two worlds—respecting my culture, roots, and values, yet also seeing the urgent need for growth and healthier conversations around mental health. I want to help bridge that gap, even when it’s hard.

I believe it’s possible to honor where we come from while also moving forward. To show that seeking help isn’t weakness but courage. That prayer and therapy can coexist. That gratitude doesn’t cancel out pain. And the more we talk, the more we open hearts—even if it’s one person at a time.

I hope everyone experiences the right kind of community. One that doesn’t tell you to hide your feelings, but encourages you to share them. One that supports you not only when you’re strong, but also when you’re struggling. Because we all deserve a community that listens—and reminds us that even in silence, we are not alone.