What We Carry: Mental Health, Memory, & Community Care
May is Mental Health Awareness Month - a time to listen, think, and learn. It is a time to reflect on why we have the thoughts and feelings we have, how they impact us and our relationships, and what we can do to change or maintain them.
For many immigrants and refugees, true healing begins not in clinics or therapy sessions, but in memory, in grief. In the moment we realize that leaving home was not only a physical act, but an emotional fracture – one that splinters across time and identities. Our lived experiences –shaped by displacement, cultural shifts, and the pursuit of belonging– have an unmistakable effect on our collective mental wellness and, thus, our collective healing. Andreina Zuluaga, a Refugee Congress Delegate for New Jersey and certified psychologist, explains that, “Migratory grief is a real phenomenon that often affects immigrants as they adapt to a new community. In many cases, they don’t even recognize the significant emotional journey they are undergoing.”
The truth is that mental health is not a month-long campaign, nor a seasonal trend. It is a quiet, constant current. It runs beneath everything: the decisions we make, the stories we tell, the silences we carry. For millions of immigrants and refugees, struggling with displacement comes with cultural, linguistic, and geographic alienation. This alienation can be exceedingly lonely and exhausting. Anyone struggling with these mental burdens can potentially develop symptoms of anxiety, depression, among other burdens. The strive towards mental wellness often requires not only time and consistency, but also grounding oneself – a belief in our own mental strength, our innate human ability to persevere. Halima Hamud, a refugee advocate and digital storyteller, puts it best:
“The experience of displacement – leaving behind familiarity, culture, and community, brought grief, isolation, and uncertainty. Yet, it also revealed my strength and resilience. Over time, I’ve learned that accepting my rest and well-being as necessities is part of reclaiming my story. It’s an intentional act of letting go of the stereotypes and expectations placed on refugees, who we’re supposed to be, how much we’re supposed to endure, or how quietly we should carry our pain. Prioritizing my healing is how I honor where I come from and who I’m becoming.”
Self-care and community care look different depending on the day. For Andreina, having a strong faith “helps me remain humble and resilient.” On other days, practicing grounding techniques like conscious breathing and journaling also “serve as ways to process my thoughts and feelings, allowing me to pause and reflect before reacting to others.” For Halima, a practicing Muslim, her five daily prayers, which she describes as “a self-love ritual” grant her “a time to pause, breathe, move with intention, and feel grounded.” Yet, self-care is not the pinnacle of mental wellness.
The concept of community care – the idea that we need deep relationships which allow us to express our authentic selves while also nurturing one another – is crucial to our psychological well-being. Humans are social creatures, and craving deep relationships is natural. It is our collective duty to envision and then create a world where mental wellness is not a medical afterthought, but a daily part of community building – especially in diaspora.
In contemplating how society at large handles mental health, Halima reminds us that, “[we need] to center culturally relevant care and community-based healing. Too often, mental health services are designed without considering language barriers, trauma histories, or the cultural stigma around seeking help. We need spaces where people feel safe, understood, and seen.”
This month and every month, let us go one step beyond “raising awareness.” Let’s make room for genuinely listening to one another. Not to extract pain, but to understand our differences and similarities. Not to tokenize resilience, but to hold space for softness. Immigrants and refugees don’t just survive. We suffer, we heal, and we breathe new life into every place we land.