I am a first-generation Punjabi woman who divorced after a decade’s long marriage.
Gasps of shock and horror reverberate in my head!! For my generation it is a taboo and unspoken subject that even now, after working on my feelings of shame, invoke those gasps and my heart tightens with guilt, so embedded is this feeling.
The dictionary definition of shame is:
an uncomfortable feeling of guilt or of being ashamed because of your own or someone else’s bad behaviour:
To read that it is borne of ‘bad behaviour’ further cements these feelings as if you are to blame, you have done something wrong, you have committed the ultimate sin. Is it any wonder so many of us stay in unhappy, sometimes abusive marriages? Our mental health suffers, our physical health is compromised, we are unseen and unheard whilst carrying the weight of this shame. The ‘loss of honour and respect’ is hugely impactful as the culture has been built on this for centuries. In the popular show, The Kominsky Method, a character remarks ‘… we keep our shame and suffering to ourselves’. This shame renders us feeling powerless.
Anecdotal evidence indicates that divorce rates are rising among the UK’s Asian population. Statistics reported by the International Sociological Association’s Global Dialogue, in early 2025, show that approximately 10% of British Pakistani Muslims and Indian Sikhs are now separated or divorced. Around 8% of Bangladeshi Muslims, 7% of Indian Muslims, and 6% of Indian Hindus compared to 20% of White British adults and 27% of Black Caribbeans, a spiked increase from 10 years ago. British Asian divorce figures may be increasing with a generational shift in attitude and beliefs, but the way it is viewed in that population can still be negative with stigma and blame – often directed towards the woman, leading us to feel like we have somehow failed.
Expectations and standards
Recently a distant family friend visited and in reminiscing she remarked, ‘you were always the good girl’. Yes, I was, I had learnt subliminally as well as overtly, like so many of my generation, that being obedient and subservient would be rewarded. This was in itself not always talked about openly; we were expected to know that certain behaviours came with the added layer of dishonour that no one else had to carry. Our conditions of worth were bound in understanding that our own needs were not important, that love, and attention was earned through the behaviour of service to others and modesty in dress and conduct. Our survival response was to fawn, to appease all, but in particular, to appease the men in our families and circle as the culture is steeped in patriarchy. Our self-worth was shut down, our feelings didn’t matter, we just did as we were told, burying the resentment and bitterness of our failed hopes and desires as we see and act life though this lens.
In the film Bend it Like Beckham by Gurinder Chadha there is a famous line where the mum says ‘what family would want a daughter in law…who can’t make round chapatis’ A line that has reverberated in many South Asian families up and down the country in various forms; if you don’t learn to cook then there will be consequences, if you can’t clean or look after us how will you fare in your in laws home, what is more important looking after your family or education? Which brings greater family honour? After all, Asian marriages are a union of families, not just the couple, and the success of the union rests heavily on the bride. The impact on the family and community was placed on the individual. It was used to control and put pressure on us to conform.
So, we put on our armour of a strong, capable and happy person and ‘just get on’. Our true selves minimised, hidden, made invisible.
The frustration and anger builds but is held. As Carolyn Spring, an author and trainer in trauma survival, says ‘anger is the handbrake on shame’. Shame stops us from acting in a way that would bring rejection. She continues, saying ‘Shame was getting me to shut up and put up to prevent further damage, protect me from lashing out’ so instead we quietly simmer, fulfilling our perceived duties. Voicing our concerns, being angry would only bring a backlash of blame, judgement and negativity. The emotional impact of talking about the subjects that go against the constructed norms of our community is fraught with a sense of danger and betrayal. Our identity is tied to a role, be it daughter, sister, wife, daughter in law, mother, embedded with layers of cultural and patriarchal conditions. To break from that role, particularly the role of the wife, is filled with the dread of disappointing the family or community, after all ‘what would the aunties say?’ or ‘log kee kahogay?’ As touched up on in a previous article Bridging the Gap – the community sense is strong and can be beautiful and welcoming and provide belonging but it was a double-edged sword in those days as it also came with scrutiny, judgement and accountability.
Change
The values of marriage and family are still strong in our South Asian families today but there is a shift in some families in accepting that sometimes things go wrong, that divorce is not the big taboo of old. We do not have to stay silent and suffer as the previous generation did and modelled. We don’t have to feel shame. In fact, is it even our shame? It was borne and created by a community of generations old – is it their shame? I am fortunate to have my parents who supported me through the process but the guilt I felt at letting them down was entrenched, as the childhood years of conditioning had shaped me in my adult married life too. It is promising to hear of other families who have accepted and embraced this change in our British Asian lives, after all we are not the same as the generation that moved here to start a new life, we are the third culture kids ( Third culture kids – identity crisis) but sadly there are many that don’t feel this way or feel the burden of shame and refuse to talk about it with other South Asian family or friends even when it happens in their homes, further alienating and shaming the divorcee.
Some of my generation of South Asians, born here, are changing and adapting their parenting to allow more freedom and more autonomy to our children. The second and third born generations are finding it easier to speak up. But there is still a whole population who hold onto those traditional values unable to break the cycles of the past.
Support
What can we do to help support those who are struggling to break that cycle, who are stuck for fear of rejection, loss, being vilified or being further hurt.
Let’s stay professionally curious, ask those difficult questions and explore their feelings of not being good enough if they speak up or leave. With open dialogue we can help break down those socially constructed walls, that silence is strength, showing them that they too can receive compassion, kindness and care, and are deserving of it. They too can be the one who is looked after. As therapists, look beyond the presenting issues and explore the idea of identity and what shaped them. Accept them at every stage of their process whilst they unpack the guilt, the shame and the pain.
Its work in progress, I too am a work in progress despite the love and support I had around me. But slowly the barriers are coming down and the authentic self is coming through. There is hope, for myself, my peers and the future generations.
Starnta Johal PNCPS
Accredited Professional Registrant
Although person-centred trained, I draw upon other modalities and am trained in polyvagal theory, Cruse bereavement counselling and am a certified clinical trauma specialist as well as having worked for an agency specialising in survivors of domestic and sexual abuse.
Currently I work as a school counsellor with the 11-18 age group and work with adults privately. starnta98@icloud.com
