In Kashmiri households, the struggle to carve out an authentic identity often feels like an uphill battle against a relentless tide of familial expectations and scrutiny. The cultural fabric of extended families, while rooted in closeness, frequently stifles individuality, leaving young people grappling with mental health challenges. This article explores the psychological toll of such dynamics, weaving in real-life examples, data, and insights from X posts to shed light on this pervasive issue.
The Silent Killer: Family Scrutiny and Mental Breakdown
In Kashmir, family gatherings often transform into informal tribunals where young individuals face relentless critique masked as concern. Take Amina, a 24-year-old from Srinagar, who shared her story on X: “Every Eid, my aunts dissect my life—why I’m not married, why I chose journalism over medicine. It’s suffocating.” Her post, liked by over 300 users, struck a chord, with replies echoing similar experiences of judgment over career paths and personal choices.
This scrutiny isn’t benign. Neuroscientific studies show that chronic criticism activates the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis, flooding the body with cortisol. Over time, this stress hormone rewires the brain, heightening anxiety and self-doubt. A 2023 IMHANS Srinagar report found that 45% of Kashmiri youth seeking mental health support cited family pressure as a primary trigger for anxiety and depression. Parents, often conditioned by their own upbringing, rarely intervene, perpetuating a cycle where silence signals acceptance. One X user, @KashmirVoices, posted: “My mom just watches as my uncles tear into me. She says it’s ‘normal.’ Normal shouldn’t mean soul-crushing.”
Jealousy Disguised as Advice: The Toxicity of Comparison
Success in Kashmir is a double-edged sword. For high-achievers, celebration is muted by envy-laden remarks. Zaid, a software engineer from a wealthy Baramulla family, tweeted: “Got a promotion, told my cousins, and got ‘Don’t get too proud, it won’t last.’ Why can’t we just be happy?” His post, shared 150 times, reflects a common sentiment: praise is rare, replaced by backhanded comments that sow imposter syndrome.
In lower-income families, success can spark resentment. When Rubina, a first-generation college graduate, secured a government job, her relatives sneered, “She thinks she’s better than us now.” Such hostility, often disguised as advice, erodes self-esteem. A 2024 survey by Kashmir University found that 52% of young adults felt their achievements were downplayed by family, leading to burnout and emotional exhaustion. The psychological toll is evident: individuals either shrink from their potential or overcompensate, chasing validation that never comes.
Academic Pressure: The Graveyard of Kashmiri Dreams
The obsession with competitive exams like NEET and UPSC defines success for many Kashmiri families, often at the cost of individual passion. Bilal, a 19-year-old from Anantnag, posted on X: “Failed NEET twice. My dad sold land for coaching. Now he won’t look at me.” His story, retweeted 200 times, highlights a grim reality: failure isn’t an option, it’s a disgrace. IMHANS data reveals that 60-65% of students suffer severe academic stress, with suicide rates among youth spiking during exam seasons.
This pressure warps brain function. Neuroscientific research links chronic stress to prefrontal cortex dysfunction, impairing decision-making, while an overactive amygdala amplifies fear. Students like Sana, pushed into engineering despite her love for literature, end up disillusioned. “I’m living someone else’s dream,” she tweeted, earning sympathetic responses from peers trapped in similar binds. The rigid focus on medicine, engineering, or government jobs ignores diverse aptitudes, leaving those with ADHD or anxiety mislabeled as lazy rather than supported.
Absorbing Criticism: A Lifetime of Psychological Damage
The scars of childhood criticism linger into adulthood. Take Asif, now 30, who recalls, “My uncle called me useless for not topping class 10. I still hear his voice when I fail at anything.” On X, @MentalHealthJK posted: “Grew up with ‘you’re not enough.’ Now I overwork to prove I am. It’s exhausting.” This perfectionism, liked by 400 users, reflects a broader trend: low self-esteem and social anxiety plague those raised under constant judgment.
Relationships suffer too. Many either wall themselves off or become people-pleasers. Breaking free means setting boundaries, but in Kashmir, cutting toxic ties invites guilt. “Told my critical aunt to back off,” tweeted @SrinagarSoul. “Family says I’m selfish. I say I’m surviving.”
Breaking the Cycle: From Judgment to Responsibility
Kashmir’s mental health crisis demands a shift from judgment to support. Families must redefine success as personal fulfillment, not societal approval. Open conversations about mental health, as advocated by X users like @KashmirHeals—“Talk to your kids, not at them”—are a start. Parents should nurture strengths, not enforce outdated paths.
The Road to Psychological Liberation
Awareness lags in Kashmir, where therapy is stigmatized and services scarce. India’s Mental Healthcare Act (2017) lacks teeth, unlike laws in France or the UK recognizing psychological abuse. Kashmir needs legal reform, mental health education in schools, and a cultural reckoning. Without it, as Umair Ashraf warns, the region risks losing its youth not to lack of talent, but to the weight of inherited expectations.
(Umair Ashraf is a Master’s student in Clinical Psychology, a social activist, and mental health advocate. Reach him at Umairvani07@gmail.com.)
