It is now a widely accepted fact in Bangladesh that our teenagers and young adults have gone out of hand.
Everyone has something to say against our youth -- parents complain their young children are detached, teachers complain that their students are aloof and don’t care about their studies, social workers complain of youth’s drug abuse, murubbis complain about how disrespectful today’s youth are.
Amidst all this hullabaloo, one common complaint against our youngsters is their propulsion towards depression. Talk to any adult, senior citizen of Bangladesh -- they will inevitably remark how the youngsters have it so easy that they can “afford” to brood in sadness.
There is a sad yet beautiful word in Bangla to capture the sentiment --dukkhobilashita -- which indicates that today’s youth consider sadness, frustration, and melancholia to be a lifestyle.
Simply put, youngsters are so privileged that being depressed is a luxury they can indulge in.
These faultfinders will throw a plethora of evidence -- they will remind us about a teenage girl who committed suicide for receiving a “Pakhi Dress” for Eid, about teenage boys who commit suicide for not getting a cherished smartphone, a school student from Bogura who killed herself when her parents prohibited her from playing online games, a 15-year-old who went live on Facebook and declared to cut her wrists if a certain boy did not speak with her.
Such silly excuses! If only these youngsters knew how hard life was for their parents and grandparents! Then they would have valued all the love and privilege showered upon them. For our adults, these youngsters are the contemporary version of Saratchandra’s Anupama -- a maudlin girl who conjured all the sadness in the world when there was none. It’s a summary trial with quick judgment -- our youth relish in grief and pain.
What cunningly gets ignored here is that frustration and depression have become a public health crisis in Bangladesh. As per the National Mental Survey 2019, depressive disorders are the most common mental health issue in Bangladesh (6.7%) followed by anxiety (4.7%). The National Institute of Mental Health’s (NIMH) countrywide 2019 survey reveals 4.7% of adolescent and youth in Bangladesh have suicidal thought, while 1.5% have suicidal plans.
Suicide is not an easy job. According to NIMH expert Dr Islam, suicide is the final stage of depression. Thus, we must realize that the apparent “silly” excuses are not the first sign of the mental health crisis our youth go through.
The issues are more complex than they seem. A 2021 research article reveals that teegers do not share suicidal thoughts with family members, but on social media.
However, even then, the online friends rarely respond to suicidal notes. Apparently, our youth cannot rely on family, seeking solace in the digital world.
And thus, the elderly anger mostly gets directed towards the digital platforms. Facebook is corrupting our children. Yet, 74% of our youth do not have access to mental health services.
But all is not lost yet. I feel hopeful that by 2041, Bangladeshi youth will overcome this crisis. On their own. In fact, I am pretty confident that this will happen not by our elderly-led systems, but by today’s melancholic youth.
I can say so because I know that despite all allegations from elderlies, today’s youth are a woke and aware generation. If they suffer from depression, they also know more about mental health issues than I did as a 19-year-old in the 2010s.
I did not even possess the correct vocabulary. I suffered for a decade before my depression got diagnosed. I did not have proper replies when my elders rebuked me for being moody and “off.” But my sibling who is nine years younger does. My first-year honours students do not feel embarrassed to seek help for their mental health struggles.
Today’s youth do not stop at posting suicide notes on Facebook; rather, they have turned Facebook into a platform to build mental health awareness.
They can detect disinformation. They’ve built safe spaces for the LGBTQI people whom even our mental health professionals may not kindly treat.
Let us celebrate how our self-centered and pampered youth are taking the mantle and removing the darkness of ignorance around mental health.
If our youngsters are indulging their depression, they are also paving the way to get out of it. They are doing much more than what our “system” is doing.
The change is already visible.
My students are not afraid of “stigma” to hide their dark episodes.
Senior teachers do not scoff at students for having mental issues as they did a decade back. More and more online platforms engage in mental health advocacy.
Studying psychology is not a bad career choice anymore.
Depression has gone from being a lifestyle buzzword to a duly acknowledged condition that real people have in real life.
Indeed, mental health appears to be the only sector where religious fanaticism and dogmatism is not winning.
Mental health is one sector where women’s sufferings are acknowledged, a rare recognition in Bangladesh where adults in 2022 still believe women to be inferior to men.
It is a sector that received legislation fairly quickly, whereas so many other health issues are left unaddressed by our legal system.
Yes, there are loopholes and cracks in each of these steps.
Our Mental Health Act has procedural loopholes serious enough to doom depressive person to systemic injustice -- many rural women are still victims of witchcraft and beating in the name of “warding off jinn-bhut,” and many prefer wearing tabij-koboch to seeking proper treatment.
Men still find it shameful to openly discuss their mental health issues due to fear of losing their machismo.
But it does not cancel the fact that today’s youth will not stop this fight against depression.
I hope to wake up in 2041 to a depression-free Bangladesh. A 70-year “young” Bangladesh, where the youth will have new challenges to overcome, with a happy disposition.
