I’ve been thinking a lot about abundance lately — what it means to have more space, more ease, more choice — and how unexpectedly uncomfortable that can feel, especially in today’s climate.

I recently shared a video on Instagram about moving to a new city and how disorienting it’s been to sit in something that is, objectively, good. My husband and I moved to a bigger place where we have a backyard! An extra few rooms! Nothing about this may surprise or be crazy to some of you but the fact there’s more room, more possibility, more comfort, and more quiet…. instead of just feeling grateful or settled, I’ve found myself feeling unsettled. Like I need to fill it. Or earn it. Or make it make sense quickly so I can feel like I’m “doing it right.”

And I don’t think that’s just about the move.

I am deeply uncomfortable by abundance in so many ways. I have felt this way when I got my major book deal, when a loved one is very, very kind or generous out of nowhere. I feel it about Brown Girl Therapy and having this space and community to share my voice and work so openly and so widely. I feel it when others want to champion and collaborate with me — sometimes this voice in my head asks, What will this cost me? What are you trying to take from me? I’m not proud of it, but I am working on it.

To be clear, when I talk about abundance, I’m not just talking about things. I’m also talking about the abundance mindset or the belief that there is plenty for everyone and that resources, opportunities, and success are limitless, rather than finite.

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Types of abundance that can feel uncomfortable

Here are some examples of abundance that can feel uncomfortable (count how many you relate to):

• Being on the receiving end of love, generosity or support

• Financial security can feel like abundance (add in having more that you “need” and it can be overwhelming)

• Degrees, milestones like getting a book published, and social status that surpasses what parents have had

• Travel, hobbies, rest, skincare and freedom to spend time and money in joy and “luxury”

• Having free time or flexibility in your schedule and not making it “productive”

• Having a slower pace of life than you’re used to and choosing a lifestyle different from what was expected of you

• Being able to make decisions that prioritize you

• Having options (even when all of them are “good”)

• Being in rooms your family didn’t have access to

• Having more physical space than you’re used to or living in a place that feels peaceful or quiet

• Feeling safe in your environment

• Having “little luxuries” that make your life easier — ie in-home laundry, dishwasher, a car, etc etc

• Being cheered on and championed without strings attached

I think many of us learned to exist in environments where space, ease, or choice weren’t always available, or these things simply didn’t feel stable enough to trust. Even more, for a lot of children of immigrants, abundance can feel like more responsibility. And sure, in some ways it is but in other ways, we’ve learned to turn it into something heavier than it needs to be.

We grow up with an awareness of sacrifice and of what it took for our families to get here. We understand (and may even be reminded) of what was given up, left behind, or endured in our families, and that awareness shapes how we relate to what we have now.

So maybe you relate and more doesn’t just mean more. Instead, it can mean:

• What do I owe this?

• How do I use this well?

• Who am I to deserve this?

• How do I hold on to this and when will it disappear?

• Am I allowed to have this when others don’t?

So instead of receiving abundance, we manage it and optimize it and question it. I asked you all on Instagram what happens to you when you start to experience abundance and here were the most common replies:

• “I feel grateful and sad at the same time.”

• “I get a little scared and think one day I will have nothing and I will look back on this day.”

• “I feel guilty and even more pressure to give back”

• “I worry it’s a fluke and the other shoe will drop.”

• “I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

• I anticipate the end of said abundance”

Basically, when you are uncomfortable with abundance, you might: over-schedule your time so empty space doesn’t exist, feel pressure to “use” every room / opportunity / resource, turn rest into a task (“I’ll relax after I finish this one thing”), research or second-guess decisions you’ve already made, feel like you need to document or justify enjoyment.

Reflect: what does abundance feel like in your body? Many of you may say, restlessness, tightness, inability to relax, urge to move/do/fix

Abundance can also disrupt identity in ways we don’t always expect.

When your life expands, it often changes things that once felt familiar: your routines, your relationships, your proximity to certain versions of yourself. And even if those changes are chosen — even if they are aligned — they can still feel like a loss.

I always identified with this version of myself that was hustling to get some level of comfort. And I am definitely still hustling, but I am also more comfortable, and I don’t know how to accept that. I don’t think we talk enough about how confusing it can be to hold that grief alongside genuine joy. I’ve thought, if I’m not working toward something, who am I? Again, it’s not like I’m not working, I’m just more at ease than I have been 🧿

Even more, I find that I am no longer having to be in survival mode or have scarcity mindset even if it was handed down to me. Leaning into building generational wealth (that was quite frankly started at the hands of my parents and grandparents) is such a privilege and… let’s be honest, there are so many White, European folks who accept this so freely. Why is this more normalized for some groups while the rest of us have to question it? For many of us, ease doesn’t just feel unfamiliar, it feels undeserved.

I don’t want to be someone who feels like I don’t deserve abundance. That I have to always work at it. That I have to worry it’s not safe. Haven’t our people and lineage suffered enough? Isn’t this what our ancestors would want for us? Ease in ways to then really give more to the things that are important — the community, the relationships, the activism?

And then there’s the world we are living in.

It’s hard to talk about abundance without acknowledging how unevenly it exists. How many people are navigating instability, loss, or harm in ways that make “having more” feel complicated.

So your personal expansion doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens alongside a broader awareness of what’s happening around you. Which can bring up its own set of questions. And for many of us, guilt becomes the bridge. A way of staying connected. A way of not letting ourselves feel too comfortable.

But guilt doesn’t actually deepen connection. It often just makes it harder to receive what’s already here.

So what do we do with all of this?

I don’t think the answer is to force ourselves to feel grateful, or to “fix” the discomfort. If anything, I think it starts with recognizing that this discomfort makes sense. That difficulty receiving abundance isn’t a personal failure, but maybe instead, it’s often a reflection of the environments, expectations, and emotional conditions we were shaped by.

It might look like:

• Noticing when you start trying to earn what you already have

• Letting yourself move more slowly in something new, without rushing to feel settled

• Allowing joy and grief to exist together, without trying to resolve them

• Questioning the idea that you have to use everything “well” for it to be valid

• Redefining and seeing rest, ease and time as your lineage’s momentum

• And maybe, over time, practicing something that can feel unfamiliar: Letting something be good… without immediately turning it into something you have to prove or questioning it altogether

I mean I definitely don’t have it figured out but I’d like to hear what you are thinking about in the comments!

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I am hearing from so many of you – clients, community members, and even friends – on how you’re functioning, doing what you need to do, showing up… but also carrying so much under the surface. Not to mention how this weight is compounded by your identities as a bicultural person, first- or second-gen, or just someone living between worlds.

I know it’s not just your stuff either. You’re dragging with your family expectations, cultural pressure, old roles you never consciously chose, survival skills that aren’t actually helping you right now.

And most of the time, there isn’t a place to talk about that honestly without having to over-explain or soften it so others feel comfortable.

That’s really why Boldly Bicultural – my three month community program for adult children of immigrants – exists.

So many of you are navigating spaces and relationships right now where you constantly have to ask yourself: who gets to feel safe, heard, and whole? You don’t have spaces where you can show up truly, honestly, radically as yourself – confused, angry, emboldened, grieving, hopeful, curious, and more… all at once!

Boldly Bicultural isn’t a program to “fix” or rush your healing. It’s a container where you can slow down and be real about what you’re carrying with people who actually understand the context. Across past cohorts, I’ve watched people begin to trust themselves more. They stop second-guessing every boundary. They feel less alone in the grief, guilt, anger, and love they’re holding at the same time. And again and again, I hear: “Oh… it’s not just me.”

In Boldly Bicultural, we don’t pretend healing happens in a vacuum. We talk about family, culture, power, history, and context – all at once. We make space for both love and harm, for pride and grief, and for wanting change without having to burn everything down.

Healing doesn’t mean disengaging from the world. It means learning how to live in it without disappearing. And there’s something deeply regulating about being in a space where you don’t have to translate yourself… or justify why things feel hard.

Community, language, and shared meaning are not luxuries in times like these. They’re stabilizers.

It’s a weird time to be promoting something but I was encouraged and pushed by past particpants who felt like this community was exactly what they needed to meet the current moment in a way that felt good and right.

If you’ve been feeling like: “I’ve done a lot of work already, but something still feels unresolved,” or “I’m tired of carrying this quietly,” or even “I don’t know exactly what I need, I just know I can’t keep doing this alone,” This might be the right time to join this community. I also know that investing in yourself can feel like a big ask, especially right now.

So for this upcoming cohort, I’m offering $250 off enrollment as a way to make this feel a little more accessible and supported.

I’d love to hold space with you,

Sahaj Kaur Kohli

Sign up for Boldly Bicultural

P.S: If you’re noticing guilt about spending on yourself, especially right now, you’re not alone. Many children of immigrants were taught that investing in ourselves is selfish or indulgent, and that our needs should come after everyone else’s. I want to gently offer that tending to your inner world, especially in a moment like this, isn’t a betrayal of your values. In fact, it’s part of how you stay resourced enough to keep showing up.

We’re lonely and disconnected. We’re hyperconnected with access to so many people all the time, and yet we are relationally under-nourshied. And that’s exactly why I hosted a free community event IRL earlier this week. I wanted there to be a space, for just a few hours, where people could walk in and immediately feel a part of something, and feel connected to others.

This post and the reflections are inspired by the conversations that were had at this event. It was truly spectacular and special.

We keep saying we’re lonely, but what many of us are really grieving is the absence of a village. Not just people around us, but people who know us, hold us, remember us, and show up when we don’t know how to ask. For so many children of immigrants, the idea of a village was something we were told we had — family, community, culture — even when what we actually experienced was obligation without support, closeness without safety, and togetherness without emotional care.

I will always be a believer that our immigrant parents and elders can teach us so much about a community care and yet with my second- and third-gen clients, I hear time and time again that they are still struggling to find that community for themselves. I think a big part of this is because we are not only looking at cultural or religious spaces as the give-in for making friends.

The act of villaging is choosing to create the kind of community that is values-based and quality, not just about quantity. It means not waiting for connection to magically happen, and not assuming that needing people makes us weak. It means treating belonging as something we practice, not something we earn.

Ask yourself: What do I value in a friendship? Am I living by those values? Are the friends I have right now doing so?

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For a long time, many of us learned that love was transactional. Be helpful and you get approval. Be easy and you get closeness. Be quiet and you get to stay. So we became very good at showing up for others, anticipating their needs, managing their emotions, and holding their pain. But we were rarely taught how to let someone hold us in return. The act of villaging — consiously — asks us to unlearn that. It invites us to receive care without feeling guilty, to let someone make us soup, to accept a check-in, to say yes when someone offers to stay.

One of the hardest parts of villaging is learning to be transparent and earnest. Many of us were raised in environments where saying what you actually felt was unsafe or inconvenient. So we learned to hint (and hope they’d just get it!), to downplay (I don’t want to burden anyone!), and often, to swallow our own needs. But real community cannot be built on guesswork.

The act of villaging requires us to name what we need out loud. It sounds like saying, “I’m struggling this week,” or “I don’t want to be alone tonight,” or “I need support, not advice.” That kind of clarity isn’t demanding. It is what makes connection possible. And on the flip side, it’s about imposing on our loved ones at least once — earnestly — to show our love and care.

And remember, asking for help is only step one… the harder step in my opinion is actually receiving the care when it is offered.

Ask yourself: Am I good at asking for help? Am I good at helping? Am I good at receiving care when it is offered?

Villaging is also about reciprocity, not transactions. In a village, no one is keeping score. Some seasons you give more, some seasons you need more. There’s a sense of trust and safety that it all evens itself out because the care is there and it flows in both directions over time.

Many of us — especially children and daughters of immigrants — are used to being the emotional glue in our relationships… the one who remembers, who reaches out, who holds space. That role often came from growing up in families where we had to be emotionally attuned to survive or take on more than was developmentally appropriate. But sustainable community cannot be built on one person always carrying everyone else. Villaging asks for shared responsibility. It asks us to let others show up for us too.

Ask yourself: In which relationships do I consistently carry more emotional labor and how could I do this 10% less?

A village is not just made of big moments. It is built through rituals. The weekly walk. The standing dinner. The connection over the mundane — picking up kids from school, grocery shopping, walking the dog. The voice note that says, “I was thinking of you.” The text that arrives without a crisis attached. These small, repeatable gestures are how people become woven into our lives. For children of immigrants especially, rituals are how love has always been expressed — through shared meals, routines, and showing up. We are not asking for more plans. We are often asking for more remembering.

Ask yourself: Where are there real pockets and ways I can be more connected to people who feed my soul — even if in micro moments?

Villaging also means staying when things get uncomfortable. Real community is not conflict-free. It requires repair to be sustainable over different phases of life. It requires a mutual willingness to talk about hurt, to apologize, to try again instead of disappearing. What I have learned is that losing friendships can be one of the most painful heartaches we navigate. And many times these lost friendships are not because something went wrong, but because one or both people didn’t know how to stay when it did. A village is built by people who don’t run the first time things get messy. And as someone who has, in the past, avoided discomfort or accountability, I know how hard this can be.

Ask yourself: What hard conversation or truth am I avoiding in a friendship right now? How can I be more vulnerable?

And finally, villaging means choosing values over convenience. We are no longer just looking for people who are available. We are looking for people who are aligned, who respect boundaries, who understand culture and context, who know how to hold grief, joy, and complexity without turning away. Community today is less about who is around us and more about how we are treated.

For so many of us, this work feels tender because we are learning to unlearn what we’ve been taught about relationships and our role in them, and we are learning to ask and receive.

You deserve to have spaces where you don’t have to perform, or prove yourself constantly, or make yourself small. This starts with being honest with yourself about how you show up as a friend, and being honest with yourself about who you are friends with right now.

Ask yourself: Who has shown they are here for me and has shown up, but I haven’t noticed or appreciated it because I may be focused more on the relationships that hurt or show up less?

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Ways You Can Support My Work

• Download and review the podcast

• Buy my book

• Follow my YouTube page

• Put my name in the hat for a speaking gig at your company or org!

• Forward this newsletter with someone you think would benefit from reading it.

Find me elsewhere:

• Instagram

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I’m moving out of the city soon, which means this will be the last Brown Girl Therapy NYC event for the foreseeable future. So if you’ve ever wanted to come to a Brown Girl Therapy event, meet others in the community, or simply sit in a room where collective care is centered, this is that moment

The event will be on Monday, January 12, 2026, from 6pm-8pm. (No RSVP needed, show up!)

This night is about bringing us together in real life. Something I think many of us need and are craving right now.

What to expect:

• Time and space to meet each other and make new friends

• Dinner, snacks, and drinks available for purchase (I’ll absolutely be eating, Tera Mera is so good)

• A short, heartfelt conversation between me and my friend, fellow author and therapist Saumya Dave on building a culture of care in your personal life and mental health

• Limited books available for purchase and signing (or bring your own to get signed)

I really can’t wait to meet you!

With so much love,
Sahaj

Wow, what a summer it has been. I needed more time than anticipated away to get life back on track, and I’m so grateful for your patience. During this pause, I wanted to make sure things were fair, so I kept paid subscriptions on hold. This break has reminded me how much I value this community and the work we do together here. It also taught me something important: in order to make this sustainable, I can’t do it alone. I’ll be expanding ways for more community involvement moving forward but don’t worry, you’ll still receive essays from me, and paid subscribers will continue to have access to me through various formats. With that said, I also want to build spaces where more of your voices can be part of the conversation.

Bear with me as I continue to figure out how I want to grow this space and recalibrate from a rough summer.

In this newsletter you’ll find details for helping me grow this space, other ways to join community events, more resources, and an essay at the end!

Help Make Culturally Enough. Even Better!

Please consider filling out this survey to help contribute to making this community what you want and need! At the end of the year, 5 people will be chosen at random to get 6 months of the paid subscription in 2026 (and as you see in the survey, it will be an exciting year)! This is also where you can throw your hat in the ring to get more involved!

• Survey: Culturally Enough Revamp 2026

Boldly Bicultural Program Cohort 2: Apps close this weekend!

The second cohort of Boldly Bicultural is here, and applications are open—but not for long. This 3-month community program is designed to help you unpack family scripts, heal intergenerational patterns, and feel more at home in yourself while reimagining belonging in your relationships and family. It’s part workshop, part community circle, and part guided self-reflection. If you’ve been considering joining, now’s the time as applications close this weekend, and I’m offering $100 off enrollment as a thank you to paid subscribers (just be sure to mark yourself as paid in the application when it asks).

• Boldly Bicultural Details and Applications close this weekend

• The program starts October 16

YouTube Channel Launch

I’m excited to share that I’ve officially launched a YouTube channel! This is where you’ll find longer-form episodes — deeper dives into the kinds of topics we’ve been unpacking together here. If you’ve ever wanted more nuance, more storytelling, and more space for these conversations, this will be the place. I’d love your support as I get it off the ground. Subscribe here to catch the newest episodes.

Malala Book Club Giveaway

I have had the honor of receiving 10 books from Malala’s team to do a giveaway. As a note, we will skip December for holidays, and we will be reading her book, Finding My Way, as the January 2026 book club! Stay tuned for a separate post about this exciting giveaway!

When September still feels like back to school

Even if you’re not a student anymore, this time of year can stir something familiar in your body. The air cools down, the stationery aisles fill with fresh notebooks, and somehow — suddenly! — you feel the need to take stock of your life. What am I doing with my time? Am I where I should be? Do I have enough to show for myself?

For many children of immigrants, September doesn’t just signal the end of summer. It can reawaken the pressures of achievement that were stitched into us early on. The feeling of “back to school” wasn’t just about classes and new teachers. It was about proving ourselves. Report cards weren’t just for us, but rather, they were a reassurance to our families that their sacrifices were paying off. We found comfort and solace in being able to tangibly show that their choices were worth it, that their investment in us has been worth it.

That pressure doesn’t disappear once we’ve left the classroom. As adults, we may notice a quiet, persistent script: I should be further along. I should have more to show. I should be making my parents proud. The seasonal rhythm of September can make us feel like we’re still standing in front of the class, waiting to be graded…not by teachers anymore, but by society, by family, and sometimes (and worst of all) by ourselves.

This is why September can feel so heavy. It’s not just nostalgia. It’s our nervous system remembering. It’s our bodies bracing for expectations, timelines, and comparisons that shaped us for so long. It’s a reminder of what we haven’t done yet, what we were supposed to, and what we have ahead of us.

But here’s the truth I keep reminding myself, and maybe you need it too: we are not report cards anymore. Our worth is not measured in milestones, degrees, or productivity. We are not behind because someone else’s script says we should be married, promoted, or parenting by now.

This season doesn’t have to be about pressure; it can be about renewal. It can be about slowing down, reflecting, and even — if we embrace it — reclaiming September as a time to nurture yourself instead of performing for others.

If September feels overwhelming, know you’re not alone. The back-to-school anxiety we carry is deeply tied to culture, family, and belonging. And yet, we can choose new ways to move through this season. We can honor where we come from while also letting ourselves breathe.

You don’t have to prove anything this fall. You just have to be here.

Let me repeat: You don’t have to prove anything this fall. You just have to be here. <3

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Ways You Can Support My Work

• Download and review the podcast

• Buy my book

• Put my name in the hat for a speaking gig at your company or org!

• Forward this newsletter with someone you think would benefit from reading it.

Find me elsewhere:

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As many of you know from previous essays, over the past several weeks, I’ve been moving through a complex medical experience that’s taken a toll on my physical and emotional energy. While I won’t go into all the details here (one day soon, I know I will want to write about it), it’s been a period that has called for deep self-care, slowness, and stepping back. I have had to pull back on everything — all work, writing, content creation, engagements, etc. It’s been a tough 5 weeks, but I'm finally in the clear of complications and slowly starting to feel like myself again.

During this time, I kept facing this guilt. Guilt for not being able to show up for others. Guilt for needing too much for myself. Guilt for saying no. Guilt for dropping the ball. Guilt for falling behind. Guilt for not responding. Guilt for sleeping and resting all the time. Guilt that others have it worse. Guilt for not doing more advocacy or community care.

This guilt runs so deep for so many of us and I am not at all immune to it, like many of you. No matter how hard I do this work on myself, confront my intergenerational trauma, and try to be more compassionate to myself… I know that the guilt won’t just go away (remember my article on how immigrant guilt is different?)

But you have all been so, so amazing. I have felt so cared for and understood by this community. I have felt so loved and held by my friends and family. Thank you. Thank you for your patience and your presence. It means more than I can say.

One of the things I have had to push off was a once in a lifetime trip with my family. My whole family (siblings, parents, niece/nephews) was set to travel to Japan together last week to explore for a week + have a week with my maternal family in my mom’s hometown. It’s a trip I helped plan and organize, and then due to the severity of my health issues, I had to miss it, and I’ve been prioritizing my care hoping I would get medical clearance…. and I did today!!!

My family has generously extended the trip so that my husband and I can still join them for a portion of it — which means I’ll be spending time in Japan for the rest of this month — reconnecting with my extended family, the Sikh community that has grown in my mom’s hometown, learning the history of the city my grandparents immigrated to many decades ago, and getting some time for (light!) adventure with my husband.

I had to miss the start of a once-in-a-lifetime family trip, and I’m incredibly grateful to now be able to join them. It feels like a needed step toward healing not just in my body, but in community and family history as well.

Pausing this community right now

Given all this, I’ve made the decision to immediately pause Culturally Enough’s paid subscriptions until August 31. If you are a paid subscriber, you won’t be charged during this time.

The plan is to:

• Gently be back in August with updates and free-writing essays (but not going to feel any pressure to do so if I am not up for it)

• we will still have our book club in August on August 31 at 12pm ET to discuss The Lucky Ones by Zara Chowdhary. Link to join will be sent the day before so mark your calendar!

• In September, we will resume as back to normal and our theme will be what we were supposed to discuss this month — sexual shame and sexual scripts. I’ll pick back up on delivering essays and coordinating and facilitating our lovely community events (conversation clubs, etc)

• Towards the end of August, I’ll have a Q4 schedule laid out for you all as well with themes and dates for community events :)

• If you are a paid subscriber, you can still turn to our subscriber only chat to chat with each other (I will check in periodically), but please don’t miss this opportunity to just get to know each other, ask questions, celebrate wins.

Thank you so much for being here. I’m grateful to be building this community with you, and I look forward to rejoining you soon — more grounded, more whole, and with stories to share.

What I’ve been learning in my therapy

Many of you loved my honesty about what I am learning and talking about in my own therapy so I will continue to share that here. These past few weeks have been especially hard so I have two additional insights since the last update on this work, particularly around grief since that is what I have been primarily discussing these last couple weeks:

• Sometimes grief needs an audience (a hug, acknowledgement, attention). Think about funeral and death practices around the world where we get together to mourn, be in community and heal and process together. But other times, grief needs privacy. During these times grief needs to be left alone and it’s private. It’s so personal that even if we are all feeling it in some way, we can’t truly understand how someone else is feeling it.

• I have been processing my own grief of what my body can’t and hasn’t done for me right now. Grief of what could have been and what has been taken. Grief of missing out on things I had planned. But as a natural caregiver, I have struggled so much to center my own grief. Instead, I am taken over by how this experience has affected my husband, my family, my work, this community, my clients. I am learning, slowly, how to separate these griefs so I can really take care of myself.

A few other community updates and resources for you

• We are going to be launching a second cohort of Boldly Bicultural this Fall and applications will open in August only to those who sign up here

• You can now buy a signed and personalized copy of my book! I’ve gotten so many requests for them, so I teamed up with Yu and Me to get them to your (or your friend’s) doorstep. Buy them here!

• My clinical training program for therapists, healers, and mental health professionals on having more cultural responsiveness when working with this community is going to launch later this year! Stay tuned here.

• Did you miss season 1 of my new podcast, So We’ve Been Told? All EIGHT episodes are live anywhere you like to listen to your podcasts. From boundaries and estrangement to sex and sexual shame. From immigrant guilt to family secrets. From exploring if your parents are narcissists to intercultural relationships. Listen to them!

Listen on Apple

Listen on Spotify

With so much love and gratitude,

Sahaj

What you need to know:

Please sign on Zoom up to 5 minutes early so we can start promptly at 5:30 pm EST.

Please note that ‘doors’ will be closed at the 10 minute mark. Because this is meant to inspire and facilitate meaningful conversation and connection amongst community members, no one will be granted entry after 8:10pm.

When you sign on, please be prepared to message me privately with the email you use to pay for your Substack subscription. This allows me to check people off of my paid subscriber list in a more efficient manner.

No one will be mandated to share anything they do not openly offer to the group on their own; however this is a community meeting and so I hope you will participate!

Video is not mandatory, but strongly encouraged for maximum participation and connection.

This is not a structured event! I may have a couple of discussion questions to get us started, but this is a COMMUNITY event, so it’s up to each of us to make it what we want! Think of it as a meetup in the park…we are casually going to meet other folks and you're welcome to bring up anything you'd like to discuss or ask to the group at large — this can include skill sharing requests, stories, a current struggle, or questions on all things confidence related.

Please remember that we all have to do our part to create a judgement-free and respectful space. I don't want to have to say this, but at any point, I retain the right to mute a participant's audio and ask them to leave for being distracting, disrespectful, rude, or hateful.

Just a reminder that this is not a therapy session and I will be joining this conversation club as a peer member.

These events are NOT recorded to ensure as much confidentiality and comfort as we can.

Culturally Enough. is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts, join events, and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

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I’ve been having a really rough few months. First, at the end of March my husband tore his ACL and had to get surgery the first week of May. This required a lot of heavy caregiving on my part as we live together in a walk up apartment that is not accessible or easy for someone post-surgery and unable to bend their leg. Then, mid-June, I experienced an urgent, private medical issue that I am still being monitored for (I will be okay, but the process getting there has been physical and emotional and has totally disrupted my life and ability to work at 100%). And then in the midst of this my husband had his own family emergency to attend to out of town which he only just got back from. This is on top of everything happening in this country and world…

Right now, I can’t be more thankful for my own therapy — even when I don’t want to go. Recently, I was talking to my therapist about all the things I am going through and we’ve explored a few things I want to share with you:

• You can’t put out fires and heal/process from the fire at the same time. The first is necessary, slow, guilt-ridden, and about survival and only after — if and when there is an after — can you really start the healing part.

• Real community doesn’t need to be told to show up and they should be there for the good and the hard, not just the good.

• Guilt is not a helpful emotion when it keeps you from acknowledging what you’re feeling feeling and what you really need.

• It’s okay to not be the strong one right now. I am learning to let myself be held. Let something fall through the cracks. Let softness be part of my survival.

• One thing I’ve been trying lately is asking myself daily, “What do I need today to feel just 10% more supported?” Not to fix everything but just to soften the edge. Sometimes the answer is silence. Other times, it’s texting a friend, canceling something, or just giving myself permission to do the bare minimum. And that just has to be enough.

If I’ve been slower to respond or show up lately — thank you for your patience. I’m reminding myself that rest is productive too, and I’m so grateful for the space to move at a human pace. And your messages and emails in reply to me asking for grace these past few weeks has really brought me to tears. I feel so supported and I hope you know — I love this work. I love doing this and being in this community with each of you.

Some reflection questions for you:

• What have you been carrying silently that deserves to be named?

• Where in your life are you tending fires and forgetting your own burns?

• If guilt wasn’t in the way, what would you let yourself ask for?

Leave a comment

July’s theme: Let’s talk about sex, sexual shame, and pleasure. Here’s the schedule of essays and events.

(Those with * next to them are for paid subscribers only)

Inspired by the latest episode of my podcast, we need to talk about sex.

Listen to the episode!

July 9, Community Event*: Conversation club at 5:30pm-6:30pm ET led by Sahaj

July 11, Essay: The cultural scripts around sex I help my clients unlearn

July 16 Essay: How sexual shame actually shows up in our lives (these may actually surprise you)

July 21: Bonus Podcast Content*

July 28, Essay: How to decolonize your relationship with your body and pleasure

July 31, Community Event*: Conversation club at 8pm-9pm ET led by Sahaj

Paid subscribers: What questions or topics on this do you want me to address? Let me know in the comments!

Books I read in June (and in what format — audio, physical, kindle):

I have not been in the mood to read lately so these are the couple books I read with my thoughts:

• 🎧 Julie Chan is Dead by Liann Zhang: This book is fun but also bonkers and insane and unhinged? Not life-changing but definitely a palette cleanser.

• 🎧 Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid: I loved this book. I love Julia Whelan as a narrator and highly recommend listening to this on audio. I love Joan and Vanessa and Francis. This book is just so human, and full of passion and heart, and simply beautiful. I will admit I don’t love everything this author writes but this one was really great.

• 📱 Casualties of Truth by Lauren Francis-Sharma: Harrowing, thought provoking and a POV and history (South Africa in 1996) I don’t read enough about. Very quick page turner!

• 📖 Assassins Anonymous by Rob Hart: I will read anything S.A. Cosby recommends. This one is an action-packed, John Wick-inspired tale about a reformed hit man who is… tested.

What I’ve watched:

I have been watching A LOT of TV because being a blob is the only thing I’ve been allowed to do physically for the past few weeks. As such, enjoy all the deep corners of TV I got into:

• FIFA Club World Cup: I love watching soccer, and I am particularly obsessed with Yassine Bounou (Bono), the Moroccon and Saudi Al Hilal goal keeper. So I have been obsessively watching the Club World Cup games on Dazn (a free app). The semifinals are this week and the finals are this weekend!

• North of North (Netflix): I loved this Native American sitcom. The representation! The heart! The storyline! Definitely a cute watch.

• The Royals (Netflix): This Bollywood inspired drama/romance is not great but it’s so good. Iykyk.

• Traitors season 3 (Peacock) : Obsessed.

• The Waterfront (Netflix): My parents came to visit for a few days to help take care of me and we watched this show together. It’s not something I would recommend, but it was all we could agree on (ha). In order to keep my dad entertained, the gore and masculinity and ego did it…

• The Survivors (Netflix): Honestly, I had to look this up because I forgot what it was about…

• Ginny and Georgia (season 1-2): Why did it take me so long to start this show?!! I love it! I am saving season 3 for my 14 hour plane ride this month!

• And Just Like That (Max): I am embarrassed to admit I am watching this. SATC has a nostalgic soft spot in my heart, but this show is not good. and I can’t stop keeping up with it.

• Started The Better Sister (Prime) but we both didn’t love the writing or feel all that moved by it so decided to stop after episode 3.

• We started season 2 of Nine Perfect Strangers (Hulu). I loved the book and the first season so curious to see what happens, but it has a great cast!!

Fascinating articles and topics and resources and random reads:

I really appreciated this article on “how to get your silent dad to talk to you.” The tips are great. Here’s the article or the IG post. I am going to try this date bark recipe.

I started listening to the Empire podcast from the beginning and it is so fascinating. It’s about the rise and fall of empires, rulers, and the events that shaped world history — starting in India and the British empire. Also, don’t forget that season one of my podcast is complete. I can’t believe it and hope you enjoyed it! Please don’t forget to leave reviews and share. It’s an independent podcast so it really supports us being able to do more seasons!

A reminder we could all use:

I am so excited about this new advice column about friendship in Self magazine by someone I admire! I love these tips on adding more play to your life (something that I know feels pointless, but trust me, it’s not!). We watched The Materialists and I loved this interview with director Celine Song (who also directed Past Lives).

Share Culturally Enough.

What did you read or watch this month? Tell us in the comments!

I’m writing to let you know that tonight’s event will not be taking place as planned. I don’t take your support (new and ongoing) lightly and appreciate your patience and grace as I make this decision for one of our staple offerings.

I am also writing to let you know that the bonus episode for tomorrow will also be delayed by a few days.

Subscribe now

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“Why didn’t you just stay in your country or go back home?”

Many immigrants and refugees would have stayed or ““go back”, if colonization hadn’t destabilized entire nations. It stole wealth, languages, cultures, and futures. Borders were drawn by empires. Wars were funded by greed. And now, generations later, we’re told we don’t belong.

“Why do immigrants take our jobs?”

They don’t ‘take’ jobs. They do the jobs this country runs on. Immigrants aren’t stealing. They’re sustaining industries, filling labor shortages, starting businesses that contribute to economic growth, pay taxes, etc.

They’re not a burden. They’re a backbone.

Immigrant lives matter. Refugee lives matter. Asylum seeker lives matter.

What is happening right now is unconscionable. Keep speaking up. Keep protesting. Keep playing your role (educator, protestor, counselor, reporter, etc). Keep safe.

Here are some things I’ve been saying to immigrant and bicultural clients recently:

1. You’re not overreacting. Hypervigilance is a normal response to a system that has made safety and belonging feel conditional.

2. We’re allowed to talk about fear even if nothing ‘happened’ to you yet. Fear lives in the what ifs and the almosts, too, and your nervous system can’t tell the difference. Would it be helpful to talk through and prepare for some of these worries?

3. You can feel grateful for all the privileges and opportunities you’ve had in this country and you can most certainly feel betrayed by it.

4. What’s a saying, mantra, or belief in your mother tongue that can feel grounding right now? I don’t have to understand it.

5. Your worth does not live in paperwork.

6. It's absolutely not your job to educate or explain why you’re scared.

7. What if we didn’t talk about it right now and we just took some time to sit in it and feel it in your body?

8. Safety is a basic need, not a luxury.

Don’t forget to check out the bonus episode which will help you take care of yourself right now in a way that feels culturally apt.

What is emotional autonomy?

Emotional autonomy is the ability to understand, own, and act on your feelings, needs, and values — without being controlled by guilt, fear, or obligation to others, especially family. Emotional autonomy means recognizing inherited emotional roles (e.g., the caretaker, the golden child, the peacekeeper) and choosing how much they still serve us. It’s about reclaiming the right to feel, choose, and live authentically, even if it disrupts old patterns.

It doesn’t mean becoming emotionally detached or selfish. It means:

Knowing what you feel

• You can identify your emotions without filtering them through someone else’s approval.

• You don’t immediately override your feelings to accommodate others.

Expressing what you need

• You can communicate your emotional needs clearly and honestly — even when it feels uncomfortable.

• You don’t shrink, edit, or translate your truth to make it more palatable.

Making choices that reflect you

• Your decisions reflect your own desires, values, and goals — not just your family’s expectations or cultural scripts.

• You don’t live in a constant state of negotiation with guilt or fear of disappointing others.

Holding boundaries without collapse

• You can say no without spiraling into shame or fear of rejection.

• You understand that boundaries can coexist with love — and are often a deeper form of love.

Emotional autonomy is not:

• Rejecting your family or culture

• Being cold, distant, or emotionally cut off

• Doing everything alone or never needing anyone

• Disrespecting others to assert yourself

In immigrant families, reclaiming emotional autonomy often means untangling love from obligation, separating your emotional life from your parents’ survival fears, and learning to disappoint others without betraying yourself

Here are 14 signs you lack emotional autonomy:

• You feel responsible for your parents’ and others’ emotions

• You experience chronic guilt when setting boundaries

• You make major life choices to avoid disappointing your family

• You silence your needs to keep the peace

• You second-guess decisions unless they align with your family’s expectations

• You constantly ask: “What will they think?” before making personal choices

• You avoid conflict or discomfort at all costs, especially if it risks disapproval

• You suppress your emotions to avoid burdening others— especially “negative” ones like anger, sadness, or fear

• You fear emotional honesty will lead to rejection or “disrespecting” your elders — or even friends and peers as an adult

• You feel drained or resentful after spending time with family, but guilty for feeling that way

• You experience extreme anxiety or dread around setting even basic boundaries

• You don’t know who you are without your role in the family (e.g., the fixer, the achiever, the protector)

• You downplay your joy or success to avoid triggering jealousy, judgment, or guilt trips

• You feel emotionally flooded or shut down after interactions

So how can you start to build emotional autonomy? Here are 6 tools:

Read more

What you need to know:

Please sign on Zoom up to 5 minutes early so we can start promptly at 8:00 pm EST.

Please note that ‘doors’ will be closed at the 10 minute mark. Because this is meant to inspire and facilitate meaningful conversation and connection amongst community members, no one will be granted entry after 8:10pm.

When you sign on, please be prepared to message me privately with the email you use to pay for your Substack subscription. This allows me to check people off of my paid subscriber list in a more efficient manner.

No one will be mandated to share anything they do not openly offer to the group on their own; however this is a community meeting and so I hope you will participate!

Video is not mandatory, but strongly encouraged for maximum participation and connection.

This is not a structured event! I may have a couple of discussion questions to get us started, but this is a COMMUNITY event, so it’s up to each of us to make it what we want! Think of it as a meetup in the park…we are casually going to meet other folks and you're welcome to bring up anything you'd like to discuss or ask to the group at large — this can include skill sharing requests, stories, a current struggle, or questions on all things confidence related.

Please remember that we all have to do our part to create a judgement-free and respectful space. I don't want to have to say this, but at any point, I retain the right to mute a participant's audio and ask them to leave for being distracting, disrespectful, rude, or hateful.

Just a reminder that this is not a therapy session and I will be joining this conversation club as a peer member.

These events are NOT recorded to ensure as much confidentiality and comfort as we can.

Read more

As a therapist, I have realized that Western psychology oversimplifies guilt. It’s said to be individual & about personal wrongdoing.

And chronic guilt is often considered irrational, or something to be processed and released. But for children of immigrants, there’s often this persistent immigrant guilt that is relational and deeply rational.

You DID benefit from your parents' sacrifices. You ARE navigating privileges others never had. You do feel torn between honoring them and honoring yourself.

That tension isn’t a cognitive distortion; it’s your emotional reality in a system that never taught you how to hold both duty and desire.

I’m not saying this immigrant guilt isn’t hurtful or unhelpful in some contexts, but Western frameworks lack the language or tools to engage with this emotion in a complex or nuanced way. Guilt for many of us isn’t just about psychology or an individual emotional experience – it’s about history, power, relationships and belonging.

→ Listen to this week’s podcast, “Why Guilt Feels So Heavy — And What to Do About it” and please consider leaving reviews if you are enjoying!

What Western mental health frameworks get wrong about guilt

In many Western contexts, guilt is tied to personal wrongdoing. It’s about “me vs. my conscience.” The goal is to fix the behavior, apologize, and move on. But in many collectivist or relational cultures, guilt is about relationships, obligations, and community expectations – not just internal moral failure.

“Let go of guilt” isn’t always helpful. Western wellness culture often encourages people to "release guilt" as if it's inherently toxic. For many immigrants, first-gen folks, or people from non-Western cultures, guilt isn’t just emotional baggage – it’s a signal of connection. It can reflect love, gratitude, or the weight of sacrifice. Trying to "let it go" without understanding where it comes from can feel like erasing part of your identity or lineage.

In many cultures, guilt is functional. It reminds you of your responsibilities. It anchors you to your family, community, or heritage. Western frameworks often treat guilt as something that blocks personal freedom. But in other cultural contexts, it’s something that grounds you. The nuance is in learning how to carry it – not always getting rid of it.

To be clear, not all guilt is healthy. Some is internalized oppression. Some comes from unrealistic expectations. But dismissing all guilt as toxic overlooks the cultural wisdom embedded in it. Sometimes, guilt means your values are intact.

Guilt isn’t always a problem to be solved. Sometimes, it’s an emotion to sit with, understand, and honor — especially when it’s tied to stories much bigger than your own.

Leave a comment

Immigrant guilt vs. Regular guilt

Immigrant guilt is not the same thing as regular guilt. And therefore they shouldn’t be treated as the same or conflated.

Regular guilt is a moral or ethical response to a specific action, whereas, immigrant guilt is an emotional and existential response to structural inequality, family dynamics, and cultural displacement/bereavement.

It's not that one is worse or better – it’s that immigrant guilt has layers that are often invisible but deeply impactful.

You can feel both types of guilt, and one can often compound the other, but knowing the difference can help you metabolize, manage, and respond to them in more apt and targeted ways.

Understanding the difference is important because immigrant guilt is often a chronic, culturally loaded, and often misunderstood experience. It doesn’t always look like guilt in the traditional sense. Immigrant guilt can look and sound like:

It doesn’t always look like guilt in the traditional sense. It may look like:

• Overworking to “repay” parental sacrifice

• Feeling like you don’t belong anywhere

• Emotional burnout or depression that doesn’t seem to have a clear source

• Feeling guilty for needing rest, therapy, or boundaries — especially if your family “just powered through”

• Downplaying your achievements because they feel out of reach or irrelevant to your family

• Financial anxiety, even when you're doing okay — because you carry the pressure to provide or "send back"

• Not letting yourself dream “too big” out of fear it’s indulgent or unrealistic

• Feeling responsible for your family's happiness or survival in ways that go far beyond your role

• A fear of disappointing others for choosing a different path — career, love, parenting, even geography

• Grieving things you never got to experience, and then feeling guilty for grieving them

• Hiding parts of your life (relationships, desires, struggles) because of fear or shame

• Feeling emotionally “homeless” — like you owe your past something, but no longer fully fit within it

• “They gave up everything — and I’m complaining about being tired?”

• “I shouldn't spend money on that… my parents never had these luxuries.”

• “I need to make this worth it. I’m their retirement plan, their dream, their investment.”

• “They didn’t come this far for me to rest, take breaks, or mess this up.”

• “I feel bad for wanting more than what they worked so hard to give me.”

• “How can I follow my passion when they never had that choice?”

• “They stayed silent and endured — why can’t I just be strong like them?”

• “I don’t call enough. I don’t visit enough. I don’t speak the language enough.”

• “They won’t understand this life I’m building — but I still feel like I owe it to them.”

• “I’m living the life they dreamed of, and I still feel lost. What’s wrong with me?”

Which of these resonate with you? Let’s talk about it!

Leave a comment

So what can we do? Generally, we need to understand that immigrant and relational guilt is real, complex, and culturally embedded – not just a “problem” to fix. This is how we can rework it into self-compassion, boundaries, or cultural integration instead of self-punishment.

I give you lots of tools and tips in the free podcast episode! Below, I’ll break down 5 types of immigrant guilt and give you 5 tools for moving through this guilt.

Listen on Apple

Listen on Spotify

💥 Immigrant guilt shows up in many forms Here are five common ones and a way to work through each:

Read more

In my childhood home, we didn’t talk about sadness. Or anxiety. Or fear. If you were overwhelmed, you took a nap. If you were hurting, you kept moving. We called it strength. We never called it silence.

For many of us raised in immigrant families, mental health wasn't a topic we grew up speaking about — not because it didn’t exist, but because naming it would have made it real. We come from a long line of people who survived war, migration, poverty, displacement. Silence was their survival tool. Stoicism became a coping skill. Talking about what hurt wasn't always an option… it was often a risk. A luxury. A threat to the stability they worked so hard to build or needed to build.

For many immigrant families, emotional suppression wasn’t (and isn’t) a flaw — it’s a strategy. The focus is clear: survive, adapt, keep going. There’s no room for unraveling.

Many of our parents — and let’s be honest, their parents — came from environments where talking about mental health didn’t just lack language; it lacked safety. Vulnerability could be weaponized. Emotions could be inconvenient. Asking for help might bring shame, not support.

In their world:

• Crying was something you did alone, if at all.

• Depression wasn’t depression — it was laziness or spiritual weakness.

• Anxiety was being "dramatic” or “too sensitive.”

• Trauma was “just life.”

• Rest was weakness and there were real-life consequences for slowing down

• Vulnerability could get you hurt

• Emotions weren’t useful or practical in survival mode

• Therapy wasn’t a resource — it was a threat to privacy or dignity and could bring on shame

And so, love became practical. It sounded like:

• “Did you eat?”

• “We sacrificed so much for you.”

• “Don’t worry about it.”

• “Be strong.”

• “It could be worse.”

These aren’t just dismissals. They’re translations of care in a language that doesn’t always allow emotional fluency.

They taught us to hold it in, not because they didn’t care — but because they didn’t know what it meant to let it out.

Even more, they didn’t know how to handle emotional expression. I am reminded of how much my parents wanted to focus on the next thing when I hit rock bottom in my 20s. I was severely depressed after a traumatic experience and my parents had no idea how to help me. It affected me, and thankfully, I did get the support I needed later (years later!), but now looking back I can see that they worried they failed me in some way. That their lack of access to their emotions prevented them from helping me access mine.

People can only go as deep with us as they can go with ourselves. We cannot expect them to do more for us than they can even do for themselves. It’s such a harsh pill to swallow.

And let’s be clear: Even in silence, there was and is love. Packed lunches. Working two jobs. Checking in on our grades. Waving at the end of the driveway. Cut fruit. Acts of service. Calling to make sure you made it safe. Buying you practical things to keep you safe. These were their ways of saying “I care,” even when words failed. Their silence was full of meaning — just not always the kind we needed.

So, many of us inherit silence.

We learned early on that some emotions didn’t belong in the room. That disappointment had to be hidden. That asking for emotional support might sound ungrateful. And that our sadness was always smaller than their struggle.

• We became “low-maintenance” children who didn’t ask for much

• We confused emotional numbness with being strong.

• We learned to translate our pain into productivity, achievement, or silence.

• We held our parents’ pain in one hand and our own in the other—and didn’t speak of either.

• We felt guilty for struggling, because “they had it so much worse.”

And now, as adults, we often carry that emotional inheritance like it’s ours to keep. It shows up in:

• Our relationships where we don’t know how to ask for what we need.

• The constant fear of being a burden.

• The belief that we have to earn rest, love, or softness.

• Having difficulty sitting still with discomfort without needing to “fix” it.

• The deep, unnamed grief for the connection we never got to have.

• Changing the subject when someone asks how we really are

• Apologizing for crying, even when you’re alone.

We carry these patterns quietly, like heirlooms. Not because they’re true or precious, but because they were modeled. Passed down. Baked into love.

Reflection: What are some other ways the learned silence has impacted your life today?

Leave a comment

Silence vs Protection

Our immigrant elders didn’t always (and still may not) have the language but they had the instinct to protect us — even if that protection looked like silence.

In many of our families, silence may not have always been about avoidance. At times, it may have been about love disguised as protection. Our parents didn’t want us to worry so they didn’t tell us everything. They didn’t want us to carry what they were already holding so they used toxic positivity as a way to cope. And often, they didn’t know how to name their own emotions, let alone help us name ours.

To them, not talking was shielding. Not feeling was coping. Carrying on without acknowledgment was resilience.

And while that kind of love did keep us safe in some ways, it also came at a cost — like emotional distance, loneliness, feeling misunderstood in the very place we were supposed to feel seen.

Their silence was love — but it wasn’t always care. And now, we’re learning to choose both.

Breaking the silence

Speaking the truth in a (figurative or literal) language your family never used feels like rebellion. But sometimes, rebellion is how healing begins. When we finally start to name our mental health struggles — whether in therapy, conversations, or hidden journal pages — we’re not just healing ourselves. We’re disrupting generations of emotional patterns.

And it’s not always easy.

Because breaking the silence often brings:

• Guilt for airing “private” family struggles

• Pushback: “Why are you being so dramatic?” “That’s not how it happened.”

• Distance and feeling like a stranger in your own home, simply for speaking honestly

• Grief for the version of your childhood you now understand more clearly — and differently.

Sometimes it feels like you’re betraying your family. Other times, it feels like you’re betraying your culture. But you’re not. You’re honoring the part of you that deserves to be whole. And in many ways, you’re doing the emotional work they never had the space or language to do.

I know it can feel like a burden to be the one doing the work to break cycles, but it’s also a privilege and you may be the first one who can do this work.

So remember: We may have inherited silence — but we don’t have to pass it on.

Healing doesn’t always look like confrontation or big conversations. Sometimes it looks like learning how to feel without guilt. How to rest without shame. How to speak without fear.

We get to choose a different inheritance.

We get to teach our bodies that safety doesn’t require silence. We get to offer our future children the emotional vocabulary we never had. We get to build bridges back to our families — not through perfection, but through compassion and connection. And most importantly, we get to reimagine love as something that holds truth, not just protection.

You don’t have to have all the answers. You don’t have to fix what came before you. But you can choose to feel. To name. To soften. And that, in itself, is radical.

Reflection: What is one thing you wish had been said out loud in your childhood home? And what is one truth you can say to yourself now, even if no one else is ready to hear it?

*Disclaimer: Culturally Enough. is not therapy, a mental health service, nor is it a substitute for mental health services of any kind. I am not showing up in this space as your therapist — I am showing up here as a curiosity-driven writer, peer, and a human. If you are looking for therapy, please consult with your local mental health resources.

Share Culturally Enough.

Ways You Can Support My Work

• Download and review the podcast

• Buy my book

• Put my name in the hat for a speaking gig at your company or org!

• Forward this newsletter with someone you think would benefit from reading it.

Find me elsewhere:

• Instagram

• Linkedin

• If you emailed me about running a conversation club, THANK YOU! You’ll hear from me shortly now that I am planning what this space will look like moving forward.

• Scroll down for the June schedule — including conversation clubs, quarterly Q&A with me, podcast releases, and essays!

Hi all! May was a wild month. I had so many speaking engagements for mental health awareness month and AAPI heritage month. I love doing speaking engagements to help bridge cultures, talk to employees in corporate settings, consult with nonprofits, and also to train leaders, managers and other clinicians in being more culturally responsive and inclusive. I have been doing this for 5 years now and this year, sadly, was the first year I have gotten pushback for my content.

Thankfully everyone who brings me in — usually folks in the community! — are on the same side as I am about the importance of this work, but given the initiatives that come from top-down — I have had to rework some of my content in certain spaces so I don’t use certain words (ie. diversity, inclusion, bias, etc) and it just makes me so enraged that this is where we are…

Anyway, I don’t always want to share the ups — and sharing these downs can help humanize this work, me, and our need for this community space.

With that said, I will leave you with one takeaway from a corporate fireside chat I was a part of. I was asked: “What are some of the common struggles bicultural folks experience in the workplace?” Here’s my answer as a quick (not comprehensive) list:

• External pressure from peers, family, or society to act more in line with one culture can lead to code-switching fatigue. Remember, inclusion and assimilation are not the same thing. Assimilation says, you belong if you are like us. Inclusion says, you belong even if you are different.

• Miscommunication or tension due to differing cultural norms (e.g., directness vs. indirectness) can lead to assumptions, misunderstandings, and isolation

• Implicit bias or structural barriers can cause certain employees to be overlooked for leadership roles due to perceived cultural “fit."

• Pressure to represent an entire group and being treated as a spokesperson for an entire culture. It may be well-meaning, but I hear stories of folks who are expected to explain or justify behaviors of an ethnic group in diversity initiatives or team discussions.

• Bicultural skills go unnoticed, like cultural navigation, resourcefulness, empathy, cross-cultural mediation, or multilingual communication

• Building culturally intelligent workplaces, leadership, and teams is imperative for fostering belonging -- and honestly, boosts productivity, engagement, and retainment. It truly is a win-win for everyone.
  

A letter from Avani Patel, our fearless community leader who is moving on to other pursuits!

As you all know, or may need to be reminded of, our fearless community leader, Avani Patel is moving on! I will be running conversation clubs in June and am going to be working with a bunch of amazing therapists who want to be a part of these to expand these community meeting spaces. Stay tuned later this summer for that update!

In the meantime, please read Avani’s farewell letter:

To the Culturally Enough Community,

Technically, my role here was to lead this community. Over the past 2 years, I've done that through discussion threads, author interviews, and my personal favorite: Conversation Clubs. Every other week - members of this community would gather, open their hearts, and support one another. Small talk didn't last long here - but real talk did. I watched in awe as people who were strangers to one another became united, instantly, by their shared humanity -- all within an hour. In short - I watched you all prove that we can tighten the distance between us, simply by telling the truth of our lives.

Holding this space was my job, but you all did the work (I made sure of this through extended, borderline awkward silence ;) - so while I am leaving this beautiful space, I know that this work lives on. And for that - I want to say: thank you. Thank you for supporting and uplifting each other, week after week, and letting me bear witness to it all. May you continue doing this with and for each other - both in these conversations and in life beyond them.

As for me, I would love to not be strangers! I still exist on the internet and elsewhere :) Here is my website, my Instagram, my Substack, and my email. Please keep in touch if you feel so inclined - I would really love to hear from you!

Either way - I'll be cheering this crew on with admiration, love, and joy. Keep on, keepin' on - y'all. I'm so proud of us, and of you.

Lots of love,

-Avani

June’s theme: Unpacking our immigrant guilt and exploring emotion regulation between cultures. Here’s the schedule of essays and events.

(Those with * next to them are for paid subscribers only)

June 2, Essay: The silence we inherit as children of immigrants

June 6, Essay: What the West gets wrong about ‘guilt’ (and how you can work through immigrant guilt)

June 10, Community Event*: Conversation club at 8pm-9pm led by Sahaj

June 11, Bonus Podcast Content*

June 18, Essay: How to reclaim emotional autonomy

June 24, Community Event*: Conversation club at 6pm-7pm ET led by Sahaj

June 25, Bonus Podcast Content*

June 26, Community Event*: Quarterly office hours with Sahaj at 7pm-8:15pm ET (paid subscribers)

June 29, Essay: On being more emotionally mature than your parents + June resources and recs

June 30, Book Club: Discussing ‘Drinking from Graveyard Wells’ by Yvette Lisa Ndlovu at 8pm-9pm ET (everyone is invited)

Books I read in April and May (and in what format — audio, physical, kindle):

I’ve had an amazing reading time lately… so many good, funny, thought provoking, interesting, and captivating reads. Asteriks means it’s on the list for top 10 reads this year:

• 📖 The Enigma of Room 622 by Joel Dicker: I enjoyed this wild ride. It’s slow paced and takes some time to really get footing on who’s who and what’s what but once you do there’s all kinds of twists and turns. I think writing something as intricate as this is a feat in itself. It’s a long one but I was surprised how quickly I blew through it.

• 📖 Goddess Complex by Sanjena Sathian: This book was bonkers. It brought up a lot of feelings and thoughts about motherhood, choices we make as women, parenthood, babies, and more. The main character is unlikable but in a satirical way (I got past it when I told myself the extreme behaviors and choices were purposeful to drive home a point) but the contrast of what our lives COULD look like was definitely thought provoking and daring. Like her first book, I found the last 1/3 hard to read and less enjoyable than the rest of the book. I definitely want to discuss this with friends.

• 📖 The Island of Sea Women by Lisa See*: This book was so engrossing and easy to read. I learned so much about haenyeo and the women and history of Jeju — it’s a painful history but i’m so glad I read this and highly recommend. At its core it’s a book about friendship, colonization and generational trauma (and healing)!

• 🎧 Fundamentally by Nussaibah Younis*: I found this complicated, controversial (from certain reviews) book so witty and smart and fun!! I definitely recommend. It’s a fresh plot and just generally a fun ride even though it’s about a particularly sensitive and serious issue!

• 🎧 We Could Be Rats by Emily Austin: I really loved this book. it’s short, it’s poignant. it’s a masterclass in sister relationships and how different siblings can be from the same parenting or childhood. I also loved the exploration of class and differences in perspectives and within the same family. just a CW with suicide and an attempt. But from beginning to end the book isn’t what it seems to be and I loved that.

• 🎧 Vera Wong’s Guide to Snooping (on a Dead Man) by Jesse Q Sutanto: Listen on audiobook, she’s so cute and funny! such a fun cozy mystery read and series!

• 🎧 Heartless Hunter and Rebel Witch (Duology) by Kristen Ciccarelli: I’m def in a romantasy era and this was a fun listen. I loved both — they did not disappoint. The enemies to lovers trope, the drama, the plot, the metaphor for power and capitalism and othering!

• 📖 The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai*: Different from books I usually read but she’s such a lovely writer and this is such a heartbreaking, hopeful, poignant book. It took me a long time to read so I could really savor the story and characters.

What I’ve watched:

Ok, so my husband injured himself at the end of March and got surgery in early May so I have been heavily caregiving. We have been watching A LOT of TV because he couldn’t do anything and I couldn’t leave him for too long. As such, enjoy all the deep corners of TV we got into:

• Adolescence: OMG if you have not seen this, I highly recommend. It is so good and poignant and sad and the fact that each episode is done in one take (ie the camera never stops recording) is AMAZING. This show really made me think about gender, parenting, social media, and more. And that kid, he deserves an Oscar!

• Hacks: We watched all of the seasons of this and I don’t know why it took us so long to get into this. It’s so good and funny.

• Based on a True Story: This is so underrated. What a fun show about a couple making a podcast with a serial killer. It definitely wasn’t supposed to end the way it did and I’m sad there isn’t a season 3 but it’s still fun to watch.

• Laid: This show is weird and cute and fun. Hoping they come out with a new season so we can learn more about this inheritance…. (don’t worry that doesn’t ruin anything.)

• Keeping up with Righteous Gemstones and Abbott Elementary

• Traitors season 1 and 2: We love Survivor and have had a few friends recommend Traitors (US), so we finally got into it! I think it’s fun, but I do wish there were more relationship building moments we witnessed to add some depth to each player and their struggles.

• And then I watched Running Point, Harlem S3, and Survival of the Thickest S2 without Sam and loved all three :)

Fascinating articles and topics and resources:

I am so bad at texting back these days and I feel so guilty about it. I have so many unread messages, and I hate how unreliable or inaccessible it makes me come off to friends — old and new. I recently read this article and it really, really, really resonated.

A reminder we could all use:

If you struggle with conflict resolution here are some great resources for helping you get better! I have started recommending The Artist’s Way to clients who are struggling to feel joy or don’t know how to access their creativity. It’s been such a fun ride. I think I’ll do the whole curriculum again myself soon. This is a handy article on retraining your brain to crave movement.

And this interview with Ta-Nehisi Coates on choosing not to have apolitical friendships in his life is so critical:

Share Culturally Enough.

What did you read or watch this month? Tell us in the comments!

What you need to know:

Please sign on Zoom up to 5 minutes early so we can start promptly at 8:00 pm EST.

Please note that ‘doors’ will be closed at the 10 minute mark. Because this is meant to inspire and facilitate meaningful conversation and connection amongst community members, no one will be granted entry after 8:10pm.

When you sign on, please be prepared to message me privately with the email you use to pay for your Substack subscription. This allows me to check people off of my paid subscriber list in a more efficient manner.

No one will be mandated to share anything they do not openly offer to the group on their own; however this is a community meeting and so I hope you will participate!

Video is not mandatory, but strongly encouraged for maximum participation and connection.

This is not a structured event! I may have a couple of discussion questions to get us started, but this is a COMMUNITY event, so it’s up to each of us to make it what we want! Think of it as a meetup in the park…we are casually going to meet other folks and you're welcome to bring up anything you'd like to discuss or ask to the group at large — this can include skill sharing requests, stories, a current struggle, or questions on all things confidence related.

Please remember that we all have to do our part to create a judgement-free and respectful space. I don't want to have to say this, but at any point, I retain the right to mute a participant's audio and ask them to leave for being distracting, disrespectful, rude, or hateful. 

Just a reminder that this is not a therapy session and I will be joining this conversation club as a peer member.

These events are NOT recorded to ensure as much confidentiality and comfort as we can.

Read more

Last week we discussed narcissism in immigrant families, if you missed it, you can check out the full podcast here, the bonus episode with some more information here, and see a series of IG posts that can help.

Since it’s mental health awareness month, I want to write three more essays this month on an aspect of mental health that is particularly salient in our community:

• May 19: The dark side of the immigrant hustle

• May 28: Cultural gaslighting: When is duty a sign of love, and when is it a tool for control?

• May 31: Culturally relevant ways to becoming soft like our ancestors weren’t allowed to be (plus May resources and recommendations)

I want to be vulnerable with you all...

Last week, I shared that I was struggling, and you were all so kind and sweet. I have been working in my own therapy for awhile on how my self-worth is inherently tied to my productivity. I’ll share more about my personal experience behind the paywall but the idea of “hustling” has become my default setting. In my mind, the more I work, the more I prove my worth — not just to the world, but to myself. My own immigrant parents built a life from scratch, pushing through every challenge with a relentless drive. It was hard to separate their sacrifice from my own desire to succeed.

The “Immigrant Hustle” is something many of us are familiar with. It’s often romanticized — a symbol of grit and determination. Immigrants work multiple jobs, build businesses from the ground up, and navigate countless obstacles to create a better life for their families. It’s viewed as the ultimate display of sacrifice and love. And let’s be real, it’s exacerbated by capitalism and white supremacist frameworks.

For immigrant families, hustle isn’t just about ambition — it’s survival. It’s rooted in displacement, poverty, and the struggle to make it in a world that wasn’t built for us. Immigrants often enter countries with limited resources, legal barriers, and cultural differences, making hustle the only option to survive. It's the means by which our families build a new life in a new world, making it through uncertainty, trauma, and a lack of resources. But behind this “resilience” lies a deeper, often overlooked cost: emotional and physical burnout, invisible trauma, and the belief that we must constantly push forward without rest.

For many immigrant families, there is no “other choice.” The pressure to be productive, to build a new life, and to repay the sacrifices made by previous generations is immense. And because we don't always have the safety nets others might, the hustle becomes both a necessity and a badge of honor. It’s a way to show that we belong, that we can thrive despite all the odds. After all, my own parents came to this country having to show their worth to the economy.

This hustle becomes the narrative that keeps us moving forward. It’s one we have all internalized at some point (and like me, many of you may still be struggling to unlearn it). But after years of working without rest, I’m realizing that resilience isn’t just about pushing through; it’s about knowing when to stop, rest, and reclaim our well-being.

It’s time we start valuing rest and emotional health as much as we value hard work.

I’ll be honest: Rest feels like a luxury I don’t deserve. Even when I’m exhausted, there’s a voice in my head that tells me to keep going, to keep working, to keep pushing. This idea that ‘rest is for the weak’ is so deeply ingrained in me, I didn’t even realize how much it was affecting my mental health. I’ve spent so many years associating rest with failure, that it took a toll on my body, mind, and soul. Now, I’m learning that rest is actually a revolutionary act of self-care. Slowly, but surely, I am learning this.

I’m curious: how does this resonate with you? Do you feel the weight of your parents’ hustle in your own life? How are you learning to reclaim your own ease? Let’s share our stories.

Leave a comment

The myth of resilience

When we say “immigrants are resilient,” it’s meant as a compliment — a nod to our family’s strength in the face of adversity. But what if resilience isn’t always a sign of strength? What if it’s a sign of necessity? Resilience, for many immigrants, is not a choice; it’s the only path to survival. When we repeatedly say “immigrants are resilient,” we often overlook the mental, emotional, and physical toll that this constant pushing takes. We deny the systemic oppression and inequities that force people to be resilient. It’s easy to celebrate resilience as a virtue, but what if the true cost of resilience is exhaustion, burnout, and disconnection?

We’ve inherited resilience, but at what cost? Why are we still living in survival mode when many of us don’t have to? What was our elders’ resilience for if the cycle is being perpetuated?

Resilience shouldn’t come at the expense of our well-being. True strength isn’t in the endless hustle — it’s knowing when to pause, when to seek support, and when to honor our limits.

Unlearning resilience doesn't mean becoming fragile or to stop working hard — it means moving from survival mode to sustainable living, from self-denial to self-trust, and from performing strength to embodying wholeness.

• Resilience can mask harm and teaches many of us to suppress emotions and vulnerability, avoid asking for help, normalize burnout and overwork

• Hyper-independence from “resilience” can cause many of us to equate self-worth with productivity or self-sacrifice. This can look like guilt for resting or saying “no,” feeling undeserving of comfort, ease, or pleasure; and struggling to set boundaries in relationships

• Real healing often requires softness, vulnerability, and the capacity to fall apart.

• Many adult children of immigrants carry a sense of inherited debt — that they must succeed or endure to validate their parents’ sacrifices. Letting go of this survival-based resilience allows them to redefine what a fulfilling, self-determined life looks like.

• If the cycle of unrelenting resilience is not disrupted, it often gets passed down. Unlearning it can model that rest and softness are also forms of strength; that vulnerability and success are not mutually exclusive; that healing is a collective, not just individual, process

Breaking the cycle

The key to breaking the cycle of relentless hustle and redefining resilience is recognizing that rest, emotional health, and well-being are just as important as productivity and success.

Redefining resilience isn’t about rejecting hard work; it’s about realizing that true strength lies in balance. Resilience isn’t about pushing through at all costs. It’s about knowing when to stop, when to ask for help, and when to care for yourself.

We can choose to take breaks without guilt, set healthy boundaries, and prioritize self-care. We can redefine success, not just as what we achieve, but as how we nurture ourselves along the way. Success isn’t about surviving on minimal sleep or emotional exhaustion — it’s about thriving while respecting our limits.

The myth of resilience has served its purpose in helping immigrant families survive. But now, it’s time to shift the narrative. True strength comes from recognizing our limits, nurturing our well-being, and allowing ourselves to rest. Let’s redefine success and strength together — starting with how we take care of ourselves. It’s okay to hustle, but it’s just as important to stop, breathe, and be kind to ourselves.

You don’t have to hustle nonstop to prove your worth. Rest is revolutionary.

3 reflection questions:

• When was the last time you truly rested without guilt?

• How does hustle show up in your life, and what impact has it had on your mental health?

• What does “resilience” mean to you now, and how can you start reimagining it for yourself?

A ‘balance’ exercise: the values/lifestyle pie chart

When I work with clients, I have them do this exercise where they make a pie chart and fill it with how they are spending their time in the past month. And then I have them fill a second one with how they spent their time last year. Then one more for how they want to be filling their time.

This allows for a greater bird’s eye view on if you’ve achieved balance over the course of a year or so (we can’t do everything with balance every single day, but if we can see that we have split our time over a year between things that are important to us then in my eyes, that is balance). This exercise also brings into perspective how you might be neglecting your community and your loved ones. And it allows you to really see where you are tying your sense of self.

This is an example of my current pie chart, and to be honest: I am deeply unhappy with how it looks:

Keep reading for my own reflections on my relationship with rest

10 tips for creating space for rest in small, digestable ways

Read more

What you need to know:

Please sign on Zoom up to 5 minutes early so we can start promptly at 8:00 pm EST.

Please note that ‘doors’ will be closed at the 10 minute mark. Because this is meant to inspire and facilitate meaningful conversation and connection amongst community members, no one will be granted entry after 8:10pm.

When you sign on, please be prepared to message me privately with the email you use to pay for your Substack subscription. This allows me to check people off of my paid subscriber list in a more efficient manner.

No one will be mandated to share anything they do not openly offer to the group on their own; however this is a community meeting and so I hope you will participate!

Video is not mandatory, but strongly encouraged for maximum participation and connection.

This is not a structured event! I may have a couple of discussion questions to get us started, but this is a COMMUNITY event, so it’s up to each of us to make it what we want! Think of it as a meetup in the park…we are casually going to meet other folks and you're welcome to bring up anything you'd like to discuss or ask to the group at large — this can include skill sharing requests, stories, a current struggle, or questions on all things confidence related.

Please remember that we all have to do our part to create a judgement-free and respectful space. I don't want to have to say this, but at any point, I retain the right to mute a participant's audio and ask them to leave for being distracting, disrespectful, rude, or hateful. 

Just a reminder that this is not a therapy session and I will be joining this conversation club as a peer member.

These events are NOT recorded to ensure as much confidentiality and comfort as we can.

Read more

Our conversation club this week was so amazing. About 15 of you showed up and we got into it. We talked about:

• One of you shared how you feel torn between being authentic and having family secrets. So we explored the concept of authenticity and what it means (this comes on the heels of my first podcast bonus episode on this topic).

• One of you / a few of you are new moms and discussed having parents who are overly involved or invasive. So, we explored the differences between pacifying our parent and setting boundaries with them. On one hand, we may appease our parents, let things go, and stay quiet. But on the other hand, we may want to speak up, set firmer boundaries around certain things, and not let things go. Ultimately, we discussed how it’s up to us to really decide what we are willing to compromise on, what we are willing to give, and what we aren’t.

  • People shared resources like the book, Radical Candor

  • One person shared the other side of the story which is setting a boundary and having it be respected and received. Sometimes we have to let our parents show up differently by not reinforcing the same story we have about them.

• Some of you shared a recognition of patterns in romantic relationships around guilt, avoidance, fear of disappointment, and wanting to leave relationships when it feels hard or ‘boring’

• And finally we talked briefly about family history, grief, and being creative when trying to learn more. One of you shared using ChatGPT to explore Arabic records to find more information on your lineage, and we learned about familytreedna.com

Overall, a wonderful and lively conversation. Thank you all for joining and hope to see you at the next one in May.

Is dating someone white a form of being colonized?

The latest episode of So We’ve Been Told gets into everything when it comes to intercultural relationships. One of you sent in a hot take about how being with someone who is White (especially as a South Asian woman) is a form of ‘colonizer syndrome’. I respond to this in the episode, but I am curious: what are your thoughts?

Leave a comment

The episode has more hot takes on intercultural/interracial dating, and your deeply personal reflections on navigating love, heartbreak, and identity across cultural and racial lines. I also open up about my love story as the first in my family to marry outside race, religion, and culture.

I also answer your questions on navigating the challenging (and awkward!) parts of dating, like introducing your partner to your family, and she offers advice on the ultimate dilemma: love or loyalty?

There’s representation from a:

• Black + South Asian couple

• Mexican + Jewish couple

• Indian + Chinese couple

• South Asian + White American

• Filipina + White American

• Black + Chinese couple

• Mexican + South Asian couple

• As well as: • Queer couples • Post-divorce dating • Introducing partner to family stories

Listen on Apple

Listen on Spotify

Even more, together, we confront hard truths — anti-Blackness, colorism, internalized racism, and community bias — while also celebrating the beauty of bridging and blending cultures:

*Disclaimer: Culturally Enough. is not therapy, a mental health service, nor is it a substitute for mental health services of any kind. I am not showing up in this space as your therapist — I am showing up here as a curiosity-driven writer, peer, and a human. If you are looking for therapy, please consult with your local mental health resources.

Share Culturally Enough.

Ways You Can Support My Work

• Download and review the podcast

• Buy my book

• Put my name in the hat for a speaking gig at your company or org!

• Forward this newsletter with someone you think would benefit from reading it.

Find me elsewhere:

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I, Sahaj, am hosting today’s conversation club and we are going to talk about the podcast, family secrets, living a double life and anything else on your mind!

What you need to know:

Please sign on Zoom up to 5 minutes early so we can start promptly at 8:00 pm EST.

Read more

What you need to know:

Please sign on Zoom up to 5 minutes early so we can start promptly at 6:00 pm EST.

Please note that ‘doors’ will be closed at the 10 minute mark. Because this is meant to inspire and facilitate meaningful conversation and connection amongst community members, no one will be granted entry after 6:10pm.

When you sign on, please be prepared to message me privately with the email you use to pay for your Substack subscription. This allows me to check people off of my paid subscriber list in a more efficient manner.

No one will be mandated to share anything they do not openly offer to the group on their own; however this is a community meeting and so I hope you will participate!

Video is not mandatory, but strongly encouraged for maximum participation and connection.

This is not a structured event! I may have a couple of discussion questions to get us started, but this is a COMMUNITY event, so it’s up to each of us to make it what we want! Think of it as a meetup in the park…we are casually going to meet other folks and you're welcome to bring up anything you'd like to discuss or ask to the group at large — this can include skill sharing requests, stories, a current struggle, or questions on all things confidence related.

Please remember that we all have to do our part to create a judgement-free and respectful space. I don't want to have to say this, but at any point, I retain the right to mute a participant's audio and ask them to leave for being distracting, disrespectful, rude, or hateful. 

Just a reminder that this is not a therapy session and I will be joining this conversation club as a peer member.

These events are NOT recorded to ensure as much confidentiality and comfort as we can.

Read more