Asian Shame and Addiction: Suffering in Silence

By Sam Louie

Many Asians are drowning in shame and addictions with no way out.  Is this any different from a Westerner?  I would say very much so.  Shame is embedded in the Asian way of thinking, behaving, and interacting.  If you do not understand the cultural history of shame and its underpinnings, then you will have a hard time underst

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Louie
• Release date: Dec 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9780692593042

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Copyright © 2013 by Sam Louie.

All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of author.

Visit my website at www.samlouiemft.com

Book cover design and layout by Steve Plummer

Printed in the United States of America

Table of contents

Introduction

1 Asian Shame And Honor

2 Asian Shame And Suicide

3 Asian Shame And Families

4 Asian Shame And Addiction

5 My Shame And Addiction

6 The Shame Cycle

7 Shame And Sexuality

8 Masculinity And Shame

9 Shame And Childhood

10 The Making Of Asian Addiction

11 Asian Shame And Imperfection

12 Asian Shame And Sex Addiction

13 Asian Shame And Christianity

14 Shame And Recovery

EPILOGUE

Reference

Introduction

Asian Cultures are rooted in shame. We are known as shame- based cultures since our lives, families, and mindsets revolve around some aspect of shame. Our identities are forged by upholding our honor while trying to avoid any shame-producing feelings, thoughts, or beliefs. Few are able to break the cultural shame that binds them. Instead, they suffer in silence.

I should know, as my life was once shackled by shame. I was hiding and afraid to reveal myself to the world. I was fearful that if anyone really knew me, they would leave me. I believed I could not be loved or accepted as I am. I strove to prove to myself and the world that I was good enough by trying to excel at school, sports, career, and my relationships, including my relationship with God. I would never let anyone see my weaknesses, my fears, or my insecurities. It was the Asian way. It was the American way. And, for the most part, I thought it was the only way.

In psychological circles we call this a false self because the reality and vitality of life are cut off from the person who refuses to acknowledge any feelings or thoughts that are deemed unacceptable to him or his culture. The false self is a defensive construct that protects the ego for countless millions of people striving to earn their way to approval and acceptance. Unless the false self is confronted and torn down, the individual will stay locked in an emotional prison that will stifle his soul, which craves to be released from bondage.

Part of my work as a therapist now is to help clients tap into their neglected emotional worlds. It’s analogous to a personal trainer helping clients with exercise. In therapy, the neglected muscles being worked are the emotions. A person learns in childhood that certain emotions are deemed unacceptable; among them may be rage, grief, helplessness, envy, sadness, fear, and sexual desire. Given enough time, the child can learn to associate these feelings with shame.

Shame is pernicious. It will choke a person with the belief that he is bad, defective, and unlovable when these unacceptable feelings are aroused later in adulthood. To keep these feelings under control, shame-bound individuals are likely to turn to addictive behaviors, because addictions temporarily ward off unpleasant feelings by altering one’s mood.

As I write this book, I’m in my forties, divorced, and in recovery from my own addiction. The list of sources for my shame is long, and I hate feeling exposed, but I know of no other way to help than to share my story with others. This book is dedicated to those looking to break out of their bondage. May you have the courage to step out of darkness and experience the freedom that’s possible through intimacy with God and your fellow man.

1

Asian Shame And Honor

When you think of Asian people, you must remember that Asians are collectivist by culture. Unlike the United States, which prides itself on the individual or I factor, Asian nations exalt the we. As a result, Asian societies are often referred to as shame-based cultures in which social order is maintained through the use of shame.

Before I go further into the intricate and negative aspects of Asian shame, I need to acknowledge that shame is best understood by looking at it through the prism of honor. In Asian cultures, the concepts of shame and honor are inextricably tied together. It’s like the yin and the yang: they coexist. So to fully grasp Asian shame, we need to understand this tension with honor that’s often neglected.

Honor and upholding honor is paramount in Asian cultures. We learn early from our parents that everything we do is predicated on bringing honor to our families: our grades, our achievements, our careers, our marriages, and our children (repeat cycle with them).

You’re Asian; Make Us Proud!

As a first-generation Chinese American whose parents sacrificed their own livelihoods to give me the opportunity to get an American education, my mantra was to honor the family above all else. Growing up in Seattle’s tightly knit Asian community meant adhering to the unwritten code to make a good name for myself, and thus my family.

My parents were low-paid restaurant workers (dad was a cook and mom a waitress) who pinned all their hopes on my two younger brothers and me. We were to succeed and fulfill this expectation of filial honor. We had no other choice, lest we end up shaming our family name.

My Family Name

In an Asian family, you learn honor early when your parents tell you about the meaning of your family name and its implications for your life. As a Louie, my honor, loyalty, and allegiance belonged to the family. What was important in life was not my individual self or accomplishments; instead, everything I did was to be geared toward bringing glory to the family name.

Chinese names are written in three characters, with your family name written first, not last. My Chinese name transliterates as Louie Fu Yuen. So as a child, when Chinese people asked me what my name was, they weren’t asking for my American first name to identify me as an individual. They wanted to know who my family was. So I’d answered, Louie, Fu Yuen.

In China when you first meet someone, this same process occurs. If translated into English, the question would be something like this: What’s your last name? There isn’t a desire to ask for your first name until the questioner can understand you within the larger and richer context of your family’s heritage. In answering, I’d say, I’m a Louie. The person I was speaking with would respond with his or her own family name so that we could get a mutual sense of who we were based on our families’ lineages and reputations.

Consequently, as a Louie my reputation and honor today are still partly in the hands of my deceased ancestors. If they left a good legacy, then I could find favor within the Chinese community in the present time. The closest American association I can think of that might resemble this linkage to the past is the reverence bestowed upon the Kennedy legacy in the US.

The Oldest Son

When one is the oldest son, the obligation to maintain family honor is even stronger. I am the one responsible for carrying this honor forward to future generations. And as a first-generation Chinese American, the expectation to succeed in this new land only made the burden heavier.

Generations of Asian families have built their successes or failures simply by making use of the family reputation handed down by previous generations. Consequently, as I stepped out into the world of education, career, and marriage, the weight of obligation to bring honor to my family and my ancestral roots was monumental. Anything that could cast a negative light on my name would be seen as dishonorable or a loss of face for the family.

Saving Face

Because of the Asian fixation on honor, we learn to do and to achieve as a means to save face. Face is how one is seen or judged by another in Asian cultures. When people talk about how Asian cultures are shame-based, they’re referring to the concern an Asian person has for what others think about him.

If someone loses face, it creates a deep feeling of humiliation for letting down family, culture, and self. You can see Asian shame in action when an Asian commits suicide. Taking one’s own life is seen as an honorable way of atoning for public disgrace and an expression of one’s deep sense of shame.

It should also be noted the Chinese character, or kanji, for face is the same as the character for mask. If you follow this line of thinking in which your face