At 2:47am, you know who you’d call. At 8am, it’s probably someone else.

This post looks at why that happens, and why it doesn’t mean anything is wrong. Adult friendships don’t centre around one person. They spread across a network, with different people showing up in different ways.

You know that feeling when you run into your mum's friend at Coles and suddenly you're getting a full interrogation in the cereal aisle?

"Beta, how are your studies? Are you still with that boy? Why are you looking so thin? Actually, why are you looking so fat? Your cousin just got into medicine, what are you doing? When are you getting married? Why aren't you married yet? WHEN WILL YOU GIVE YOUR MOTHER GRANDCHILDREN?"

And then, before you've even made it to the checkout, your mum's phone is ringing because Aunty already called her to report that you looked "tired" (code for: possibly depressed, definitely disappointing, probably making poor life choices).

Welcome to the Aunty Network—the original social media platform, except with no privacy settings and significantly higher stakes.

Today, we're diving into one of the most complex aspects of immigrant life: the double-edged sword of close-knit community. Because yes, the aunties will bring you homemade food when you're sick. But they'll also know about your therapy appointments before you've even booked them.

So grab your chai (maybe hide in your room while you read this, just in case), and let's talk about when community care becomes community surveillance—and what it means for our mental health.

Let me paint you a picture.

You're sitting in class, nodding along, taking notes. To the outside world, you're the perfect student—quiet, well-behaved, no trouble at all. Your report card says things like "pleasure to have in class" and "conscientious student."

But inside your brain? It's like someone left 47 browser tabs open, the kettle's boiling, there's a documentary about penguins playing in the background, and also you just remembered that embarrassing thing you said in Year 7 and now you're spiralling.

Welcome to ADHD in brown girls—the most underdiagnosed, misunderstood, and gaslit experience in the neurodivergent universe.

While your male classmate who can't sit still gets sent to the school psychologist, you get praised for being "such a good girl." While he gets assessed, accommodated, and understood, you get told you're "just sensitive," "overthinking things," or my personal favourite: "maybe you need to try harder."

Spoiler alert: you were already trying. You were trying SO hard that you burnt yourself out by age 25 and still thought it was a personal failing.

So let's talk about why brown girls with ADHD slip through the cracks, why we're diagnosed decades late (if at all), and why the world keeps mistaking our symptoms for character flaws.

If you're reading this, you probably got the memo. You know, the one that says:

"Congratulations! You've been selected to represent your entire ethnic group as successful, hard-working, high-achieving, uncomplaining, and completely fine at all times. Failure to comply may result in bringing shame upon your family, ancestors, and the entire diaspora. No pressure!"

Welcome to the Model Minority Myth—a double-edged sword disguised as a compliment. On the surface, it sounds kind of nice. Who doesn't want to be seen as smart, successful, and disciplined? But scratch beneath that shiny exterior, and you'll find something far more sinister: a myth that erases struggle, silences pain, and makes it nearly impossible to admit when you're not okay.

So grab your chai (or coffee, or emotional support snack), and let's talk about why "doing well" on paper doesn't always mean you're actually doing well—and why that matters for your mental health.

Feeling guilty saying no to your parents? Discover how EMDR therapy helps diaspora adults release emotional load, guilt, and intergenerational burnout.