“We Don’t Talk About It”: Arguing and Moving On in South Asian Families

By Anushka Phal | Psychologist

If you grew up in a South Asian household, you might recognise this scene: a heated argument breaks out in the living room, words are exchanged with the sharpness of fresh-cut chili, and everyone storms off in frustration. You brace yourself for a long silence, maybe even a dramatic fallout.

But the next morning? Someone makes chai, offers you a paratha, asks if you want more achar. The TV is on, the house smells like haldi and garlic, and it’s as if nothing happened. No apology. No debrief. Just… business as usual.

This dynamic is so deeply embedded in South Asian families that many of us don’t even question it until we step outside of our cultural bubble. And as a psychologist, I find it fascinating. Because like most cultural habits, it carries both wisdom and risk. It can be deeply comforting, and it can also leave scars that shape the way we navigate relationships for years to come.

So let’s unpack this — why we do it, what it gives us, and what it costs us.

The Good: Harmony Without the Drama

At the heart of this pattern is something beautiful: the prioritisation of family unity. In collectivist cultures like ours, the group is more important than the individual. Family is everything — the safety net, the support system, the constant.

That means harmony often matters more than resolution. By choosing to “move on,” South Asian families preserve the rhythm of life. There’s no dragging out the conflict, no long hours of analysis, no threat of the family splintering over one argument.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what people need. Not every fight has to be dissected. Not every angry word deserves an inquest. There’s an efficiency in pressing the reset button.

There’s also a kind of unspoken love language here. When your mother sets a plate of food in front of you after yelling at you the night before, that’s her way of saying: “You’re still mine. We’re okay. Our bond is stronger than my anger.” In families where verbal apologies may feel awkward or culturally alien, gestures like food, chores, or humour often carry the weight of reconciliation.

And for many, it works. People learn to coexist again without bitterness, without a deep need to hash everything out.

The Bad: Silence Isn’t Resolution

But here’s the catch: silence is not the same as healing.

When arguments are brushed aside without acknowledgment, the pain of those moments doesn’t magically disappear. It lingers. For some, it turns into quiet resentment. For others, it becomes self-doubt — “Did my feelings even matter? Was I overreacting?”

I see this pattern in therapy all the time. Adults who grew up in households where fights were never truly repaired often struggle to communicate in their own relationships. They may avoid conflict altogether because it feels unsafe. Or they may replicate the same cycle: blow up, then shut down, then act like nothing happened.

The danger here is that what looks like “peace” is often just avoidance. It’s a truce built on exhaustion, not understanding. And when this happens repeatedly over years, families may appear close on the surface, but emotionally, there’s a gap. Important conversations never happen. Apologies are never spoken. And trust can quietly erode.

There’s also an intergenerational impact. Children raised in this environment don’t get to see models of repair — how to apologise, how to listen, how to express hurt without fear. Instead, they learn to internalise or ignore conflict, which can make adult friendships, marriages, and workplaces harder to navigate.

So while the “move on” strategy preserves harmony in the short-term, it can cost intimacy and emotional safety in the long run.

Why We Do It: The Psychology Behind It

This habit isn’t random. It has cultural and psychological roots.

• Colonial and survival histories: Many South Asian families carry intergenerational trauma — partition, migration, poverty, racism. In survival mode, the priority is endurance, not emotional repair. You don’t stop to process; you move forward.

• Shame and stigma: Talking openly about feelings, anger, or hurt has often been seen as disrespectful or unnecessary. Better to swallow emotions than to risk shaming the family.

• Conflict styles: In collectivist cultures, “keeping the peace” is a virtue. Open confrontation is often avoided. When conflict does burst out, the instinct is to restore calm quickly — not to linger.

In short: it’s not that our parents or grandparents didn’t care. It’s that their emotional toolkit was designed for survival and harmony, not introspection.

Finding the Middle Path

Here’s the part I love: we don’t have to reject this cultural pattern entirely. It has wisdom in it. But we can expand it, adapt it, and balance it with healthier emotional practices.

1. Keep the Reset, Add the Repair

It’s okay to let things cool down and act normal again. But later, come back to the person and say, “Hey, I know I hurt you earlier. Can we talk about it?” That way, you preserve harmony and build trust.

2. Use Gestures, but Add Words

Food, chai, jokes — they’re beautiful tools of reconciliation. But sometimes they need a little verbal backup. Even a small phrase like “Sorry I snapped at you” can go a long way.

3. Model It for the Next Generation

Show kids that it’s possible to apologise without losing respect. Teach them that conflict isn’t the end of love. That’s how we break the cycle.

4. Choose Your Battles

Not every argument needs a full debrief. Sometimes “letting it go” really is the healthiest option. But for bigger hurts — betrayal, disrespect, emotional wounds — silence won’t cut it. Those moments deserve to be spoken about.

Why This Matters for the Diaspora

For those of us in the South Asian diaspora, this conversation is especially important. We’re navigating two worlds: the collectivist values we grew up with and the individualist models of communication we see around us.

Western culture often encourages verbal processing, apologies, and boundary-setting. Our families may see that as overthinking or unnecessary. So we end up caught in the middle — craving repair, but feeling guilty for wanting it.

The truth is, we don’t have to choose one or the other. We can blend both. We can hold onto the warmth, humour, and resilience of our families while also learning to speak our hurts, apologise, and reconnect in deeper ways.

A Gentle Invitation

If you’ve ever felt the sting of arguments that were never resolved, or if you want to learn healthier ways of repairing conflict while still honouring your cultural roots, therapy can help.

At Umeed Psychology, we specialise in working with South Asian and culturally diverse communities. We know the unspoken rules, the family codes, the quiet gestures of love — and we also know how to help you build tools for communication, boundaries, and healing.

🌿 You don’t have to untangle this alone. Therapy is not about rejecting your culture; it’s about expanding your toolkit so you can keep the parts of it that nourish you, while healing the parts that hurt.

If this resonates with you, reach out. Book a session. Or simply start a conversation. Together, we can create a way forward that honours both harmony and honesty.

Because pretending nothing happened may keep the peace.
But talking about it? That’s what helps us truly heal.