“Kids are so occupied with not disappointing anyone that they don’t have the luxury to find out who they really are.”
— Caitlyn Wang, founder of the nonprofit curaJOY
Asian tweens and teens—whether in the U.S. or abroad—are exposing themselves to mental health risk factors with lifelong consequences, often hidden behind perfect GPAs and polished college apps. Suicide is now the leading cause of death for Asian Americans aged 15–24, according to the U.S. Office of Minority Health. From 2013 to 2019, rates climbed over 40% (ACAMH).
In Silicon Valley’s Palo Alto, where academic rivalry runs high, the CDC documented one of the nation’s most tragic “suicide clusters.” At San Francisco’s Lowell High—where 70% of students are Asian—more than 70% say their campus is “not a healthy environment” for mental well-being. Many wear sleep deprivation like a badge of honor. Both kids and their parents are in constant competition, and the stress that ensues.
This isn’t just about grades. It’s about identity. Every person is worth more than their grades and resume, Asians included.
What Students Wish You Knew
Words from curaJOY’s Youth Ambassadors reveal what data alone can’t: the emotional weight of being seen as “too successful to struggle.”
“Having this increased societal pressure to succeed is also really damaging to the mental health of these youth and can contribute to worse depression and more suicidality.”
— Julian Byon“Asian societies are mostly taught to conceal their emotions, but when such things are bottled up, it can result in horrible emotional consequences.”
— Clarissa Shen“Mental health isn’t ‘for weaklings.’ A broken bone needs treatment; so does a broken mind.”
— Bianca Shen“With these stigmas on Asian American groups, especially in low SES communities… high-quality mental health support without biases towards their culture, these are unreachable expectations.”
— Huixin Xu
These students beg to be seen. They’re telling us that success doesn’t equal wellness, and that emotional wellness isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity.
Slave More, Endure More, and Ask for Less
Asian students are often praised for their academic excellence, but the story behind that success is rarely told with honesty. Research shows their edge comes largely from work ethic and support systems—not innate genius (TIME). Yet the same ethos—grit, sacrifice, and silence—can trigger higher rates of self-image problems and emotional suppression–Asian’s elevated mental health risk factors (The New Yorker).
It’s a bittersweet truth: Asians became the “model minority” because they were willing to slave more, endure more, and ask for less. But when achievement is earned through quiet suffering, it teaches kids that pain is part of the price—and that asking for help is breaking the rules.
This myth doesn’t just distort how others see Asian youth. It distorts how they see themselves.
How Did We Get Here?
- Scarcity mindset: In elite college admissions, Asian students often find themselves competing not just broadly, but disproportionately against each other. Despite racial quotas being illegal, studies show Asian applicants face higher academic thresholds and lower odds of acceptance—creating a race for limited seats that feels rigged from the start.
- Family honor & reciprocity: For many Asian families, education isn’t just a path—it’s a promise. Parents who left behind careers, communities, and stability to immigrate often see academic success as the return on that sacrifice. Kids absorb this unspoken contract early: “If I don’t succeed, I’ve failed my family.” The pressure isn’t just external—it’s deeply emotional. Even minor setbacks can feel like betrayal. And because emotional language isn’t always modeled at home, students often lack the tools to express guilt, fear, or burnout—so they bury it.
- Peer echo chambers: Academic pressure doesn’t just come from parents—it’s amplified by peers. Students don’t just compete on how many APs they’ve taken, but how early they took them. “I did AP Calc BC as a sophomore” becomes a badge of honor, a subtle flex that others feel pressured to match. When I tried to talk my daughter out of maxing her schedule with all AP classes, she retorted, If XYZ managed it, why can’t I? Am I not as good?” This is no longer about learning—it’s about identity. Kids begin to equate their worth with their academic timeline, not their growth or joy. And because attention often goes to the record-breakers, others feel invisible unless they push themselves to extremes. Our culture isn’t rewarding learning—it rewards speed, stacking, and survival.
- Stigma spiral: Therapy is often seen as indulgent, unnecessary, or shameful—especially for high-achieving kids. The message is clear: “If you’re doing well in school, you must be fine.” But beneath the surface, many students are quietly unraveling. Sometimes parents unwittingly add to the problem when they say “In my day, we didn’t have therapists—we just worked harder.” Because asking for help risks being labeled weak, dramatic, or ungrateful, they stay silent—until the stress erupts into crisis.
Unfettering the Chains of External Validation
When kids are taught that their worth depends on how they rank, they learn to chase applause instead of character. Over time, this creates a fragile identity—one that’s only stable when they’re winning. But what happens when the applause stops?
You’ve seen it around you. Students who ace every test still feel empty. High achievers panic over one “wrong” course choice, convinced they’ve ruined their future. This is what happens when we raise kids to be performers, not people.
If we want lifelong wellness and thriving, we must teach children to build identity on values, relationships, and emotional wellness—not just metrics.
From Trophy Rooms to Safe Spaces
We can’t break this cycle without culturally fluent, emotionally honest spaces where kids can be more than their résumés. I put some tips here to get us started.
- Create “report cards on life”: Encourage families and schools to track growth in empathy, self-awareness, and resilience—not just academics.
- Celebrate character, not just credentials: Recognize students for kindness, courage, and creativity—not just scores.
- Teach emotional vocabulary early: Help kids name and navigate their feelings so they don’t confuse achievement with identity.
- Model self-worth beyond success: Parents and educators can share their own non-linear paths, failures, and moments of doubt to normalize imperfection.
- Create intergenerational dialogue spaces where parents and teens can share stories of stress, resilience, and growth—without judgment.
Culture-Fluent Support Channels
Not every struggle shows up on a transcript. Many Asian students perform above grade level, yet quietly battle anxiety, burnout, or undiagnosed learning differences. Because they’re not “failing,” they’re often overlooked for IEPs or counseling referrals.
Just like sunscreen prevents skin cancer, social-emotional health needs proactive care. Platforms like MyCuraJOY offer 24/7 mood check-ins, skill-building quests, and multilingual parent coaching—all overseen by PhD-level clinicians. Teens can try out coping strategies or assertiveness drills in private, culturally fluent spaces. It’s not therapy—it’s an investment in lifelong skills and emotional resilience.
Call to Action
“Nothing is more fragile than a child who only knows how to chase accolades. Let’s help them learn who they are when the trophies are gone. Because there will come a day when none of us can compete anymore. What remains then must be enough.”
— Caitlyn Wang, curaJOY
Share this piece with a friend, coach, or teacher. Because a good report card on life is better than a good report card for school alone.
Let’s rewrite the report card—together.
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