These Chinese-Canadians are looking to break the silence on mental health

You can read a version of this story in Mandarin here.如果您想阅读这篇报道的中文版，请点击此处。

Warning: This story deals with mental illness, including mention of suicide.

The shuffling and clacking of domino-like tiles reminds Kayla Mak Harrison of when her late grandmother and her friends taught her how to play mahjong, a Chinese tabletop game. It didn't take long for Mak Harrison to learn her grandmother was a "mahjong shark." 

"She was pretty happy when we were playing with her. When there were bets on the table, she kicked our butts. It was pretty funny," she said.

Mak Harrison, who is half Inuk and half Chinese, recalled a woman devoted to her husband. She steamed chicken wings for his dinners. She made him take his medications. She turned on the TV so he could watch the news. She even helped him do his exercises. 

Mak Harrison said her grandmother was lost when he died. Her cooking became infrequent. She hated watching TV alone. She spoke to family members less.

Expressing emotions is not encouraged in the Mak family.

That's not uncommon. Chinese-Canadians living with mental illness tend to face stigma and shame because of cultural perceptions and pressures. Since there's a tradition of suppressing emotions to achieve harmonious relationships at all costs, it can worsen mental health and create barriers to accessing help.

Mak Harrison, 23, was raised by her Chinese father and identifies more with that side of the family. Mental illness was never an open topic among her Chinese family members, but neither was it a stranger in their lives. 

She was in junior high school when she first noticed symptoms of depression. She got regular headaches. She slept too much but never felt rested. And, like her grandmother, she withdrew from people.

By late 2016, Mak Harrison was experiencing "racing" suicidal thoughts. She visited the hospital many times, and was passed from doctor to doctor without answers. 

The following year, she moved to Regina, where she experienced a manic episode and was admitted to a psychiatric ward. It took two more episodes before she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

The barriers caused by shame and stigma are well-documented. According to the Asian Journal of Social Psychology, only about a quarter of Asian Americans who have been diagnosed with psychological problems seek treatment, compared more than half of the general population.

Last year, another study found only 2.2 per cent of first-generation Asian Americans, 3.5 per cent of second-generation Asian Americans, and 10.1 per cent of third-generation or later Asian Americans sought out specialty mental health services.