It is not just a sentence you read and then move on with your life. Grief is an entire reality to reflect on. Sadly, in Pakistan, there is very little open conversation about it. Living here is not easy, especially mentally. Our concept of mental health is biased, layered, and selective.

If you are mourning the loss of a loved one, that is considered a valid reason to be sad, upset, or even depressed. But if you feel these same emotions for other reasons, such as stress from a job, financial struggles, unsupportive parents, friendship breakups, or simply not being able to cope with life, you are considered weak. You are seen as “dramatic,” someone who has failed to learn from their ancestors.

But what did the ancestors actually do? They endured, suppressed, or neglected their mental health struggles, believing silence was strength. That silence was then passed on to their children, and their children’s children, creating what we now recognize as generational trauma.

Grief is something all of us feel. It is raw, unavoidable, and deeply personal. Yet in Pakistan, it rarely gets room to breathe. Our culture and everyday expectations often meet expressions of pain with silence, judgment, or a push to “stay strong.” As a result, sorrow is hidden away, never allowed to move freely in its rhythm.

The Pressure to Stay Strong

In Pakistani families, the moment tragedy strikes, words like “sab theek ho jaye ga” and “himmat karo” surface almost immediately. While meant to comfort, these phrases silence the mourner and dismiss their right to feel broken. Instead of being allowed to grieve openly, people are expected to maintain composure for the sake of dignity, reputation, or faith.

Men, in particular, are discouraged from crying. A grieving son, husband, or father is reminded that “mard rone ke liye nahi banta.” This toxic ideal of masculinity denies men a natural outlet for pain and passes unresolved trauma from one generation to the next.

The Bias in Mental Health

This selective validation reveals how biased our society is toward mental health. There are “levels” to what is considered acceptable suffering. Losing someone close is permissible. But feeling crushed under job stress, constant comparisons, or failing relationships is dismissed as weakness or immaturity.

The truth is that both forms of grief are real. Pain does not exist in hierarchies, and emotions cannot be measured by social approval. Yet in Pakistan, people are quick to judge what “counts” as grief and what does not. This mindset prevents individuals from processing their feelings honestly. Many suppress their emotions out of fear of being labeled sensitive, dramatic, or even ungrateful.

Religious Misinterpretations

Faith plays a significant role in how Pakistanis cope with loss. Islam teaches patience (sabr), but it does not prohibit mourning. The Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) himself shed tears for loved ones. However, cultural customs often misinterpret this guidance, viewing grief as weakness or insufficient faith. Some even believe that excessive crying “upsets the soul of the deceased.” As a result, mourners are pressured to hide their pain instead of expressing it.

The Silence Around Children

Children who lose parents or siblings are often given even less space to grieve. Families shield them with phrases like “tumhein mazboot banna hai,” denying them an outlet for heartbreak. Without guidance, children internalize the lesson that grief should be hidden, planting the seeds of unresolved trauma for adulthood.

The Stigma of Everyday Struggles

In daily life, sadness tied to non-death issues is rarely treated with empathy. A young man exhausted by financial struggles is told, “Real men don’t complain.” A girl heartbroken over a friendship or breakup is told, “This is nothing compared to what people before you faced.” Children stressed by studies or parental expectations are dismissed with, “We had it harder, yet we survived.”

Such responses invalidate a person’s pain. They imply that emotions are unworthy of acknowledgment. Over time, individuals stop opening up. They learn to mask their struggles behind smiles, carrying an inner silence that only grows heavier.

Why Grief Needs Breathing Room

Unacknowledged grief does not disappear. It festers. Pakistan’s culture of suppressing sorrow fuels cycles of depression, anxiety, and emotional numbness. By denying people the right to mourn authentically, society traps them in an endless loop of unspoken pain.

Allowing grief to breathe means creating safe spaces where people can cry without shame, remember without guilt, and speak without judgment. It means encouraging therapy and community support. It means teaching our children that sorrow is not weakness but part of being human.

Conclusion

People who accept their emotions and express them without fear of judgment are stronger than those who silence their feelings. Accepting what you feel and allowing yourself to experience it requires true courage.

Pakistan prides itself on resilience, but true resilience is not about silencing tears. It is about facing grief, processing it, and moving forward with dignity.