What is Intergenerational Trauma? Learn from a Bay Area Asian American Trauma Therapist
“I heard about intergenerational trauma... but I don’t even know what that means.”
If you’re here, chances are someone—your friend, your partner, a podcast—mentioned intergenerational trauma, and something clicked.
You thought:
“Wait… that sounds like me, but I don’t come from a war zone or anything.”
Now you’re Googling, wondering why you still feel anxious, disconnected, or not good enough, even though your life looks “fine” on paper.
Here’s the truth:
If you’re an Asian who grew up with parents who pushed you hard, avoided emotion, or expected perfection—you are likely carrying trauma that didn’t start with you.
But unlike what you’ve seen on TikTok or in your psych class, intergenerational trauma isn’t just about your ancestors surviving war, colonization, or poverty.
It’s about how your family passed down silence, shame, and survival scripts—like “Don’t talk back,” “Be the best,” or “Never ask for help”—and how those scripts are now wrecking your relationships, self-esteem, and peace of mind.
Curious what that actually looks like? If you’re wondering whether this applies to you—or just want to finally understand what intergenerational trauma means in real life—keep reading.
What Is Intergenerational Trauma, Really?
Let’s call it what it is: complex trauma.
Unlike a single traumatic event—like a car crash or natural disaster—complex trauma is what happens when small emotional injuries build up over years.
Think: a thousand paper cuts to your sense of self. You might not remember the first one, but you definitely feel the sting over time.
In Asian American families, this kind of trauma is common—but rarely named.
Why? Because silence is a survival strategy. And that silence gets passed down like an heirloom.
This trauma is both historical and deeply personal:
The historical: colonization, war, forced migration, and systemic racism. These collective traumas taught our ancestors that survival meant suppressing emotion, avoiding conflict, and prioritizing safety over self-expression. These strategies didn’t disappear—they got passed down.
The personal: emotional neglect, unprocessed hurt, hidden abuse, and pressure to achieve. Many families never had the time, language, or safety to heal from these experiences—so instead, they hardened into parenting styles, cultural norms, and expectations.
Complex trauma isn’t about one big traumatic event—it’s the accumulation of subtle, repeated injuries to your sense of safety, worth, and belonging. It’s a pattern of disconnection that builds over time and shapes how you see yourself and relate to others.
It can look like:
Parents who never said “I’m proud of you” (even when you got straight As), because love was tied to achievement
Adults who yelled at their kids and called it “normal,” because they were never taught how to express anger safely
Physical punishment that was minimized or even joked about—like being hit with a slipper, a feather duster, or a broom
A home where someone was always working, but no one was ever really there—emotionally or physically
A household where affection had to be earned, not freely given
A family where no one talked about feelings—only grades, money, or what other people would think
Being the emotional dumping ground for your parents—their stress, anger, or disappointment landed on you
Playing mediator between your parents' fights, feeling responsible for keeping the peace
Taking care of your siblings while no one checked how you were doing, because you were “the responsible one”
Always being the helpful one—anticipating others’ needs, keeping the peace, and over-functioning as a way to stay safe and needed
Learning early on that your value came from how useful you were to others, not from being seen or cared for yourself
Complex trauma often hides behind cultural norms and expectations. It doesn’t always look like abuse or violence. More often, it’s emotional neglect, chronic shame, relentless pressure, and the internalized belief that you have to perform to be loved.
How Trauma Gets Passed Down
So if no one talks about pain, it gets handed down instead.
Let’s bring this back to complex trauma. It’s not just the big, dramatic moments—it’s the thousand paper cuts.
The everyday silence. The chronic pressure. The subtle shame. And when no one ever names or heals those wounds, they get passed on.
Here’s how it works:
Your parents grew up with their own trauma—things like abuse, war, poverty, or being raised by emotionally unavailable caregivers. Some of them were forced to grow up too fast, caring for their own siblings while their parents worked or were absent. They may have never been comforted when scared, never told they were doing enough, and never given permission to feel.
Therapy wasn’t an option. In fact, asking for help was considered weak or shameful. Survival came first. Healing was not prioritized.
So they did what they knew: they shut down their feelings, focused on achievement, and avoided vulnerability. For many, taking care of others became their coping strategy—because staying busy felt safer than feeling.
When they became parents, they carried those coping mechanisms with them. The way they dealt with their own emotions—by ignoring, suppressing, or deflecting—became the way they responded to yours. If they avoided their feelings, they avoided yours too. Fear, pressure, control, and emotional distance became their parenting tools.
You, as their child, absorbed that environment—not by choice, but because that’s what love looked like in your household. Maybe that meant walking on eggshells to avoid being scolded. Maybe it looked like only getting attention when you excelled, not when you were hurting. Maybe it meant keeping secrets, suppressing tears, or never hearing an apology.
You then pass it on—often without even realizing it. By pushing your kid too hard. By snapping at your partner when you're overwhelmed. By staying silent even when you're hurt.
That’s the thing about trauma: if it goes unexamined, it turns into a parenting style, a relationship pattern, a rulebook you didn’t mean to write.
You’re not doing it on purpose. But if no one names it, you’ll think it’s normal.
And that’s how the cycle continues.
This is how trauma becomes a family blueprint.
Not from one big event, but from years of unspoken pain and unmet needs that get recycled until someone decides to stop it.
For example:
You may have had a “golden child” role—always praised for your success, never comforted in failure. Now, you’re terrified of disappointing anyone.
Or maybe you grew up with a parent who never said “I love you,” and now you freeze when your partner asks you to open up emotionally.
This is the hidden power of complex trauma.
It doesn’t just stay with one person—it becomes the emotional blueprint for a family.
Trauma lives in roles, routines, and silence. And it feels normal—until you start questioning it.
Why This Is Harder to Spot in Asian American Families
If you're reading this and thinking, "This can't be trauma... my childhood was fine," you're not alone.
Most of my clients feel the same way at first.
You had food, shelter, maybe even private school.
Your parents cared.
They worked hard. They sacrificed.
So you learned to measure dysfunction by extremes—abuse, addiction, chaos—and since your life didn’t look like that, it couldn’t possibly be traumatic, right?
But trauma isn’t always dramatic. It can be subtle, quiet, and deeply normalized.
You were taught to save money, work hard, and keep your head down. On the outside, you seem stable—even successful. And that’s exactly what makes it so hard to spot—and so easy to dismiss.
That’s why it’s so easy to miss. Especially in Asian American families, trauma doesn’t always come with yelling, hitting, or acting out in school.
It comes with silence, perfectionism, and pressure wrapped in care. It shows up as a parent who packs your lunch but never says “I love you.” Or one who drives you to every lesson but never asks how you’re really doing.
This kind of trauma hides behind high achievement.
It gets praised, not questioned.
Most therapists are trained to look for trauma in its loudest forms—substance use, risky behavior, explosive fights.
So when you come in saying, “I feel shut down,” or “I work all the time but still feel like I’m failing,” they might not connect the dots.
That’s dangerous.
Because intergenerational trauma in Asian families isn’t always loud—it’s often quiet, hidden, and ignored.
But on the inside?
You struggle to say no without guilt
You assume love must be earned
You feel isolated, even around family
You can’t stop overthinking, overworking, or people-pleasing
And because our culture doesn't talk about mental health, you thought this was normal.
It’s not. It’s just common.
What Healing Actually Looks Like
If you’re still not sure this applies to you—if part of you thinks, “It wasn’t that bad” or “I should just be grateful”—I hear you. Most of my clients come in doubting whether they even belong in therapy. Because their pain doesn’t look like trauma. And because they’ve been conditioned to minimize it.
Let me say this clearly: therapy can help. But the kind of therapy matters.
Most trauma therapy starts with the past.
And sure, that has some value—but it often keeps you circling your family history without teaching you how to live differently in the present.
Worse, the therapy you get at places like Kaiser or with most generic providers is symptom-focused. It's about checking boxes, reducing anxiety scores, or managing stress—not healing.
It rarely leads to real growth or lasting change. It’s the kind of therapy that feels safe to your insurance company, but useless to your actual life. And honestly? It’s not even worth the co-pay.
I work differently.
Healing from intergenerational trauma—especially in Asian families—starts with the present.
The patterns are happening now. You’re avoiding conflict, overworking, people-pleasing. That’s where we start.
Here’s how we do it:
Name the patterns. What’s still showing up in your life? Silence, shame, guilt, people-pleasing?
Feel what’s been buried. That discomfort you avoid—guilt, grief, anger—it has to be felt to be released.
Try new behaviors. We don’t just talk—we practice. Saying “no,” setting boundaries, asking for help in session.
Make space for your history—but don’t get stuck in it. Yes, we’ll explore your past. But not to endlessly dissect which uncle said what—we use that context to understand the present and build the future.
Rewire your nervous system. Through somatic approaches like Brainspotting or EMDR, we help your body unlearn survival mode.
This isn’t just about getting more "insight." It’s about transformation. And it’s okay to start even if you’re not sure you “deserve” to.
You don’t have to earn healing. You just have to begin.
Why You Need a Therapist Who Gets It
So does any therapist work? Think again.
Generic therapy will fall flat.
You end up explaining basic things like filial piety—or worse, you end up covering up what’s really going on because your therapist isn’t trained to spot this stuff. Or you get advice that sounds good on paper, but feels impossible to actually do.
Or you end up intellectualizing your pain—but nothing in your actual life changes.
Trust me, I’ve worked with clients who could write a thesis on their trauma, yet still find themselves people-pleasing, shutting down in conflict, or terrified to disappoint their parents.
Insight isn’t the same as freedom.
Even therapy with other Asian therapists can miss the mark if they don’t know how to translate cultural insight into action. It’s not enough to understand your upbringing—you need someone who can help you do something about it.
Because here’s the thing: the work is hard.
There’s a reason why you already know you should set better boundaries, or speak up, or stop people-pleasing—but still can’t.
The moment you try, big feelings come up: guilt, fear, shame, panic. That’s trauma showing up. That’s why real healing requires more than tools—it requires a therapist who can walk with you through the hard parts, sit with your discomfort, and coach you as you try something new.
Doing it alone is overwhelming. Trying to heal in isolation is what keeps most people stuck.
That’s why I focus not just on intergenerational trauma as a concept, but on your Good Asian Upbringing as a lived, present-day experience. It’s real. It’s specific.
And it’s shaping how you move through the world right now.
We don’t just talk about trauma—we work with the patterns you carry today. Avoidance, fear, shame, people-pleasing—I help you name them, feel through them, and try something different.
Healing intergenerational trauma doesn’t start with the past.
It starts with the present.
As an Asian American trauma therapist who understands the Good Asian Upbringing from the inside, I help you:
Practice boundaries in session, not just talk about them
Understand the cultural rules that shaped you—then choose your own
Build emotional muscles you never learned growing up
Heal the trauma that’s been quietly running your life
Ready to Get Started? Schedule an Intro Call Today!
If you’ve read this far and something clicked—maybe a feeling, a memory, or just the sense that you’re tired of pretending everything’s fine—this is your sign to take the next step.
I work with high-achieving, second-gen Asian Americans who were raised to be “good,” but now feel stuck, anxious, or burned out trying to live up to invisible expectations.
You’ve probably tried therapy—or thought about it. But it felt vague, past-focused, or like you were educating your therapist about your culture instead of healing. That’s not your fault. Most therapists aren’t trained to spot the kind of trauma that hides behind straight As and self-sacrifice.
That’s why I do things differently.
I help you unlearn your Good Asian Upbringing—the silence, guilt, avoidance, and people-pleasing—and replace it with:
The ability to speak up for yourself without shame—even when your voice shakes
Boundaries that don’t crumble under guilt
The skills to handle real-world moments: hard conversations with your parents, saying "no" to your boss, or not spiraling when someone’s disappointed in you
A life where connection, rest, and authenticity aren’t luxuries—they’re non-negotiables
My clients don’t just feel better—they show up differently. They stop filtering every decision through guilt. They initiate conversations they've avoided for years. They make space for rest without apology, express emotions without second-guessing, and finally stop performing their worth.
That’s what healing looks like—when you finally stop surviving and start choosing what actually serves you.
The longer you wait, the deeper the patterns dig in. The stakes? Missed opportunities, strained relationships, and passing on the same silence you swore you’d break.
Start now—because your future self deserves better than survival mode.
