“Emotional Labor Behind the Smile: South Asian Women and the Burden of Being ‘Resilient'”
She’s so strong.”
“She always keeps it together.”
“I don’t know how she does it all.”
Phrases like these are often said with admiration — and they are meant to be compliments. But for many South Asian women, they can feel like shackles dressed as praise. Because behind that carefully managed strength, there’s often an invisible truth: exhaustion, emotional labor, and the quiet pressure to always show up — even when falling apart inside.
In our culture, resilience is expected. But what happens when resilience isn’t empowering — it’s demanded?
The Culture of Carrying It All
From a young age, South Asian girls are trained to be caretakers. They’re taught to serve guests with a smile, help their mothers in the kitchen, suppress complaints, and remain emotionally composed — no matter how overwhelmed they feel.
As they grow, the expectations grow with them:
- Be the obedient daughter.
- The supportive sister.
- The ideal wife.
- The devoted mother.
- The perfect daughter-in-law.
- The professional who balances work and home without missing a beat.
And all of this? Must be done gracefully, gratefully, and without asking for help. Because the moment she struggles, she risks being seen as ungrateful. Weak. Dramatic.
So instead, she puts on a smile. And she keeps going.
What Is Emotional Labor — and Why Is It So Invisible?
Coined in sociological circles, emotional labor refers to the unacknowledged effort of managing one’s emotions — and others’ — to keep things running smoothly. For South Asian women, this labor is constant:
- Mediating family conflict without showing frustration
- Absorbing disrespect to “keep the peace”
- Soothing everyone’s needs while neglecting their own
- Suppressing grief, anger, or sadness so others stay comfortable
It’s the quiet work done in the background — the emotional glue that keeps families together. And it’s rarely recognized. Rarely appreciated. Often expected.
The Resilience Trap
“Be strong” is often framed as empowerment. But for South Asian women, it has morphed into something heavier: an unspoken rule that says you are not allowed to fall apart.
There’s no room for burnout. No space for vulnerability. Tears are for behind closed doors. And even then — they come with guilt.
This is what we call the resilience trap — where the identity of being “strong” becomes a burden:
- You suppress your emotions so you don’t “worry” your parents.
- You stay in difficult roles or relationships because “everyone sacrifices.”
- You fear asking for help because “other women have it harder.”
- You perform happiness because admitting otherwise would invite judgment.
Eventually, this kind of “strength” isn’t empowering. It’s performative. And it’s draining.
Why This Pressure Falls Disproportionately on Women
In South Asian families, the emotional caretaking often defaults to women. It’s rarely asked — it’s assumed. Sons can struggle. Men can break down. But women? They are the ones expected to be the emotional anchors.
And if they aren’t?
“She’s too sensitive.”
“She doesn’t adjust.”
“She thinks she’s too good for us.”
“Such attitude. No wonder she’s single.”
So they keep smiling. Keep absorbing. Keep pushing.
The Cost of Always Being “Fine”
Over time, this constant emotional labor takes a toll:
- Emotional exhaustion that masquerades as “being busy”
- Suppressed anger that turns inward, becoming anxiety or depression
- Loss of identity, where they don’t even know how they feel anymore
- Physical health issues, triggered by chronic stress
- Loneliness, even when surrounded by people
They are praised for being strong — but no one asks what it costs them to be that way.
Redefining Strength — On Your Own Terms
It’s time to redefine what resilience really means. It’s not about suppressing your needs or pretending everything is okay. It’s not about emotional perfection.
Real strength looks like:
- Saying “I’m not okay” without guilt
- Setting boundaries without fear
- Letting go of the need to fix everyone
- Asking for support
- Letting yourself rest
- Being tender with yourself, even when no one else is
Being Soft Doesn’t Mean You’re Weak
There is power in softness. In crying. In asking. In resting. In being human.
South Asian women have always been strong — but it’s time we stop asking them to suffer quietly in the name of that strength.
The next time you feel like you have to smile through pain, pause and ask: Who told me I had to be this unbreakable?
And what would happen if I finally let myself break — just a little — and began again, lighter?
Your worth is not in your performance. It’s in your presence. And you don’t owe anyone a smile you don’t feel.