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May is Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) Mental Health Month. In that spirit, I want to name something that often goes unspoken: the intersection of financial health and mental health.
AAPI communities are not a monolith. We include a wide diaspora with different languages, migration histories, class backgrounds, and access to resources. And yet, some of us grew up with a familiar set of narratives, about achievement, family, and what it means to “make it.”
In graduate school, I learned language for experiences I had already lived; the model minority myth, the “bamboo ceiling,” and earlier policies like the Chinese Exclusion Act that explicitly restricted who was allowed to belong. These weren’t just historical facts or abstract concepts; they were different versions of the same message: that our place in this country has been conditional.
Even now, with more visibility through global media and food culture, the AAPI experience is still widely misunderstood. And that misunderstanding doesn’t just shape identity—it shapes how many of us relate to achievement, security, and money.
The model minority myth didn’t just happen
The idea of AAPIs as a “model minority” didn’t emerge organically. It was popularized in the 1960s by William Petersen in a New York Times magazine article, and later contextualized by historian Ellen D. Wu as part of a broader political narrative.
At its core, the myth suggests that AAPIs succeed through hard work, discipline, and strong family values, often in contrast to other groups.
But that framing does two things at once:
- It flattens a diverse population into a single story
- It quietly sets a standard that is difficult to opt out of
The reality beneath the numbers
AAPI communities are often portrayed as economically advantaged, but research tells a more nuanced story.
Data from the 2024 Pew Research Center survey shows that AAPIs have the highest income inequality of any major racial group in the United States. About 1 in 10 rely on food assistance, but that number rises to 1 in 4 for Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islanders. Poverty rates are also higher among Pacific Islander communities, with roughly 1 in 6 living below the poverty line.
Additionally, AAPI Data in 2024 shows how different the AAPI experience can be, depending on how families came to the U.S., what resources were available to them, and how easily they could navigate systems here.
This gap between perception and experience is where many of the psychological patterns begin.
When achievement becomes identity
For many of my AAPI clients, there is an underlying narrative that sounds like:
“I have to be successful. It’s what’s expected of me.”
Sometimes it shows up more subtly:
- “I should be further along by now.”
- “I don’t want to fall behind.”
- “I can’t let my family down.”
For those who actually meet external markers of success, the pressure doesn’t go away; it often intensifies. For those who don’t, there can be a quiet sense of falling short, even when they are doing objectively well.
Money as a psychological system
When worth becomes tied to achievement, and achievement to financial stability, money starts carrying meaning about safety, worth, and responsibility.
In my practice, I see this in patterns like:
- Chronic over-saving or difficulty spending
- Anxiety despite a stable income
- Guilt when out-earning parents or peers
- Pressure to financially support family, even at personal cost
- Avoidance of financial conversations paired with internal worry
For some, symbols of success carry emotional weight. Being able to give generous red envelopes, support extended family, or reach certain milestones becomes not just financial, but relational and cultural.
And underneath it all is often a quieter fear:
Clients wonder, “What if I’m really just lazy deep down?” They fear that they won’t just rest, they’ll collapse and never get off the couch.
So they keep going. Not always because they want to, but because stopping feels risky.
From a psychological perspective, this makes sense. Many of these patterns begin as adaptive responses to migration, uncertainty, family sacrifice, or the need to create stability and safety quickly.
But what helps someone survive doesn’t always help them feel safe later.
Success doesn’t always resolve the anxiety
One of the most confusing experiences for my high-achieving clients is this: They’ve done what they were supposed to do. They’ve built careers, saved money, and created “stability.”
And yet, the anxiety is still there.
Sometimes it shows up as:
- A persistent sense of “not enough”
- Difficulty enjoying what they’ve built
- A moving target of what counts as success
- A feeling of being responsible for more than just themselves
This is where the model minority myth becomes more than a stereotype; it becomes an internalized script.
Silence around mental health
In addition, AAPI individuals are among the least likely to seek mental health support. In fact, only about 8 to 9 percent of AAPIs access mental health services in a given year, roughly half the rate of the general U.S. population. Even among those who are struggling, the majority never receive care.
Barriers can include structural, cultural, and even linguistic. Sometimes there simply isn’t a shared vocabulary for what’s happening internally.
So distress gets managed privately through coping mechanisms such as overwork, control, avoidance, or just pushing forward and keeping their heads down.
Redefining success
As a 1.5-generation Vietnamese-American psychologist, this is personal for me.
I first went to therapy over 20 years ago, long before it felt normalized or widely talked about. I remember sharing with a friend at the time and seeing her cry, worried about what it meant for my future.
What I’m proud of now is not just the work I’ve done professionally, but the space it created for others in the next generation to seek support in their own way. I help clients learn how to feel safe in their own body, not just on paper. I help them deconstruct the stories they inherited about money, success, and responsibility. And often, what we find is that the stress was never just about the numbers.
Oftentimes, it’s easy to assume financial stress means not having enough.
But, for many people, it means never feeling like enough, no matter how much they have.
