By Sarah Hirsi

The sounds of children and family fill the house, while one girl sits in front of her computer, talking to an online therapist. She makes an effort to keep it discrete, trying to hide that she’s on a call with a therapist. Mental health is a big deal for her, but it’s not something her family fully understands.

For many Somali Canadians, mental health struggles are further strained by stigma and systemic barriers. Yasmin, a Somali student in Ottawa who requested anonymity, knows this all too well. Growing up in a large family of 12, 10 siblings and two parents, privacy was nonexistent and the generational gap between her and her parents was impossible to ignore.

“When it comes to mental health, you can’t talk to them about it,” she says, due to the stigma surrounding the topic and the many barriers that make seeking help even harder.

“They’re so used to living in survival mode—it’s just an immigrant mindset.”

According to a 2019 research paper published in the National Library of Medicine, Somali communities globally experience high levels of mental illness but face numerous barriers to accessing mental health services.

Illustration by Kalli Amelya.

“It’s a mixture between religion, culture, and the concept of ebb (shame). My family often says, ‘Don’t tell other people about your business; that’s ebb,’” she says. “They believe it’s better just to hide your issues.”

Generational Trauma

Mental health challenges are common in Yasmin’s family, with several relatives diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD) and schizophrenia. Her older sister, who struggles with BPD, has lived through a suicide attempt in the past. Yet, Yasmin’s parents still dismiss mental health issues.

“[Her parents] believe she’s like this because she smoked weed five years ago.”

Yasmin remembers being a very anxious child growing up and struggling even more during the COVID-19 pandemic. “I went through a sexual assault in Dugsi (Somali School), and that made my anxiety so much worse. I blocked it out for many years and never told my family because whenever I’d hear someone talk about that happening to someone else, my mom would respond, like, ‘Oh, but what did she do, though? What did she do to prompt that?’” she says. Later on, she was diagnosed with major depression.

Illustration by Kalli Amelya.

“My parents think, ‘Well, we’ve been through so much back home, we only thought about survival. You guys have it too easy now, so you’re creating problems,’” she explains. “They’re so used to living in survival mode—it’s just an immigrant mindset”

Many Somali families, like Yasmin’s, fled the country following the collapse of the government and ensuing civil war of the 1990s. The Somali Canadian Association estimates that most Somalis in Canada migrated during this period of instability and displacement. Yasmin’s parents faced difficulties adapting to their new environment in Canada. Moving from a place where everyone looked the same and spoke the same language to a new world where they were misunderstood and isolated.

“You had a difficult experience coming to Canada … but I also had a difficult experience being a recipient of your care during those times.”

Yasmin is the second youngest and describes the generational gap between her generation’s trauma and her parents “They experienced colonialism in their lifetime, Al-Shabaab gutting family members alive, and fled a civil war,” she says. “Their perception of trauma is so different from ours.”

“My mom will tell me that when it comes to mental health, she doesn’t believe in it, but then she still tells me I’m too scared to go to bed in the dark with the door closed because her siblings and family members who passed away are talking to her.”

Yasmin shared how her mother had to take care of the children on her own in the 90s while their father travelled for work. “Taking care of all those kids by herself, in the 90s, in the hood, and it was really dangerous. That’s a lot, and that’s why she’s so anxious all the time.” Even though it has been 20 years, she is still on high alert. Yasmin says her mother is like many Somali mothers, always on high alert.

“This issue is so layered,” Yasmin concludes, “There’s no one to blame, and everyone is just hurting.”

Illustration by Kalli Amelya.

Nora Elmi, a licensed mental health therapist and founder of Elmi Counselling and Wellness Services, further explains the complexity of generational trauma within Somali communities. Factors such as income, social status, employment, and working conditions intertwine with deeper issues like war-related trauma and cultural displacement. Making it harder for people to ask for help as they are already overwhelmed by so much to manage.

“There’s so much they’re dealing with. Then they’re told to go forth and figure out this new world. On top of that, they have to be kind, and they need enough money to survive,” Elmi says. She stresses that two things can be true at once, “You had a difficult experience coming to Canada, and I hear you, but I also had a difficult experience being a recipient of your care during those times.”

Culture and Religion

According to research by EthnoMed, diaspora Somali individuals have faced compounding mental health challenges, often tied to isolation from their traditionally tight-knit communities. This isolation can be even more pronounced for individuals with mental illness, deepening their fear of discussing their struggles. Shukri Hussein, a child and family worker at the Somali Family Services Centre’s Stop Now and Plan (SNAP) program, highlights the stigma surrounding mental health in Somali communities.

“There’s a really deep understanding and shame-filled narrative around mental health. It’s like a personal failure to have to deal with mental health, a reflection of the family unit and lack of good values,” Hussein says. “It’s just a reflection of them in a way that’s stigmatizing and isolating.”

Illustration by Kalli Amelya.

Religion also plays a major role in how mental health is perceived within the Somali community. Many individuals believe that following religious practices, such as reading the Quran, can resolve mental health struggles. According to the article You can go to the Imam and the therapist.’ Mental health in my Somali community, many people believe that turning to God and following His holy book is the only solution for mental health struggles, while seeking help outside of these practices is seen as a sign of weak faith.

Yasmin adds, “Faith can provide comfort, but there’s so much more to it. You need medication.” Conditions like depression are often dismissed as “worldly issues” rather than genuine concerns.

“We need to explain what mental illness is, talk about it openly, and share our stories.”

In some cases, mental illness is attributed to possession, a common belief in Somali culture. Khadijo Maalim, a behavioural therapist who works with kids on the autism spectrum, explains, “In our community, when someone is going through a mental health crisis, the first thing we resort to is religion. We heal through our prayers. But when someone is going through mental health issues, we might say, ‘Maybe it’s the jinn possessing you.’”

Maalim stresses that the older generation’s lack of education around mental health only adds to the stigma. “Education is the key to breaking this stigma. We need to explain what mental illness is, talk about it openly, and share our stories. Just because you’re not directly affected doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. And if you are, you shouldn’t hide it.”

Reframing Through Conversation

Elmi emphasizes that the path forward begins with just one person reaching out and offering support. “I always ask people, ‘How did you find the practice?’ Often, they’ll say something like, ‘I have a cousin who had a friend who came here a year ago and had a good experience.’ That kind of sharing comes from our ability to talk to each other.”

Illustration by Kalli Amelya.

The key is to start with the individual. “Start with yourself. When we do that, we have the power to break generational cycles. Whatever those cycles may be, we can begin to end them, and from there, life can begin anew. You, as an individual, have the privilege and responsibility of being a cycle breaker. By doing so, you become an ancestor for the next generation,” Elmi explains.

Hussein is also a firm believer in keeping the conversation steady and growing through social work with children and families. She explains her work at the SNAP program, describing it as a 13-week treatment program focused on cognitive behavioural therapy interventions. The program helps children reframe their thoughts, and then apply those same skills to their parents.

“Having the kids say, ‘Hey, I’m having really big feelings,’ and validating that for them while showing them other choices that keep them safe, feels good for them, and that doesn’t make the problem bigger,” she explains. “It’s changing the actual relationships in their lives because they’re taking the time to read and they’re taking the time to reframe.”

Yasmin says that while the conversation surrounding mental health remains difficult, progress is being made, especially among younger generations. She shared how discovering online communities provided her with a sense of belonging and support. “There are still resources, you can go on Reddit, and there’s a lot of communities out there,” she says. “That helped me a lot.”

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