The message that the world’s greatest religions and cultures taught young people: Seek the truth, do your duty to your family, eat healthy, don’t drink your youth away, honour the gods and your ancestors, marry and have children, and serve your people.
The message that social media and pop music teaches young people today: live for yourself, don’t settle or sacrifice, drink, smoke, party, sleep with whoever you want, God is an interpretation, family is a farce, you don’t need a man, you go girl!
If young people do not live a life with purpose, mental health is bound to suffer. The consequences of poor decisions cannot be fixed with pharmacological solutions. Of course, it goes without saying that not everyone who has poor mental health is doing something wrong.
Many of the codes to a well-lived life, a life of meaning and purpose, are actually quite simple. Religious and cultural values taught us ways to achieve good ‘mental health’ before science had even taken its first steps. It has more to do with what we offer others, and less to do with embracing oneself unconditionally.
The most popular value today among the young, educated urban population is ‘self-love’. As a concept, this one has had many proponents on its side, ranging from counsellors to hippies, from philosophers to third wave feminists. Each group of supporters have expanded the application of the notion, sometimes to distorted proportions.
Consequently, (one of) the most unpopular values of today is the antithesis of self-love. That is, loving someone else as much, or even more than yourself. The most unforgivable is when one loves one’s romantic partner more than oneself.
Fewer people want to get married or have children, and even if they do, they delay it as much as they possibly can. Even fewer have more than two children. An extended bachelorhood is all anyone wishes for any more. Meeting or spending time with one’s parents, siblings or grandparents has become less frequent for adults. Aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews are no better than strangers. Neighbours do not even exchange smiles. Of course, one might replace these invaluable relationships with friendships or colleagues, but there is far less responsibility to be taken there. Long-term, serious, monogamous romantic relationships “scare” people, so that has been replaced with hookups, one-night stands, friends with benefits, and all manner of why-label-anything pseudoships. This incompetence to handle anything with commitment, responsibility or obligation also looks better disguised as “self love”.
“Love yourself. Focus on your own needs first. Whatever you do: work, dress, write, earn, travel, it should be for yourself and not for others.”
But what’s wrong with putting someone else first? What’s wrong with working a job that may not be your dream, if it helps you to provide for your aged parents? What’s wrong with doing what your boyfriend wants once in a while? Or your parents? Or your brother? What’s wrong with choosing to leave your job to take care of your kids? What’s wrong with making sacrifices for those you love? Are they even sacrifices if they further your own people’s interests?
Are we so insecure about our independence that we feel threatened if someone else tells us what to do or what’s good for us? Is the assertion of the self (its needs, desires, rights, freedoms) the only way we feel we love ourselves?
Does ‘self love’ mean mindless indulgence of every whim and fantasy? Does it entail prioritising one’s dreams or hobbies or grooming no matter the cost? Does it involve chasing hedonistic pleasures?
Self love should be redefined to include love for our loved ones. It includes teaching your son to fix a faulty shower head, helping your wife do the dishes or your nephew with his math homework. Sometimes, these tasks call for sacrifices like missing a career-altering work conference, failing to meet your monthly salon appointment, or losing your place in a beloved novel because you didn’t get weeks to pick it up. What’s wrong with that?
Some of this has to do with Western culture. In India, we have what we call a “joint family” system (although family structures in urban India are becoming increasingly nuclear). I grew up in such a family. Typically, this would consist of a man and his wife (with or without kids), who live with his parents under the same roof. Or maybe the parents live with their son. It doesn’t really matter who lives with whom. If the man has a brother, he too lives in the same house with his wife and kids. It might sound outlandish, but it has its benefits.
Festivals and special occasions are celebrated together. Children inherit a diverse collection of values from the lived experiences of multiple parental figures. The women go to work at greater ease, leaving their children at home to be watched by the grandparents. The kids grow up listening to stories told by their grandfather, and enjoying sweetmeats cooked by their grandmother. They do not see much difference between their siblings and their cousins. They not only learn to cooperate and share, but also to depend. The man provides for his parents in their old age, and he may even share some household expenses with his brother(s).
I do not advocate returning to the joint family system. Times have changed, and logistical problems arise. What I advocate is, returning home. Home to family. Home to cultural roots. Home to sanity.
The concept of ‘self’ is also different from that in the West. It may not be carved in stone, but I’d daresay that the definition of ‘self’ includes the family in almost every context. And the working definition of family includes not just wife and kids, but also parents and siblings and nieces and nephews. This working definition matters when one makes decisions. But ‘self love’ as it is understood to be today, has outlived its worth.
“Love yourself. Make sure you forgive yourself for everything. You are valid. You are valuable.”
How can it be so absolute? You are valuable, period. No conditions whatsoever. Who decides this value? ‘Self love’ would say you do. But isn’t value also decided by the role we play in the lives of others, or how well we play it? How valuable are you if you bring nothing to the table? How about if you have a drug problem? Or if you drink and drive and kill someone in the process? Or if you never bothered to fix your strained relationship with your parents?
Even if it is not as extreme as all that. How can you forgive yourself for everything you say or do? If forgiveness is inevitable, then all actions are equal, whether it is as egregious as walking out on your wife and kids or as harmless as passing notes in class.
If I ask my grandparents, relatives, or even some of my friends as to how they could redefine self love, they would say:
Love yourself, sure. But terms and conditions apply.
Love yourself. But only when you deserve it. Dislike yourself when you don’t. Live with that discomfort long enough to make amends for your mistakes.
Love yourself. So accept no freebies. Take yourself seriously enough so as not to congratulate yourself just for existing.
Love yourself. You don’t deserve everything, simply because you exist. That’s entitlement.
Love yourself. But even better, get over yourself.
Love yourself. But only when you deserve it. Dislike yourself when you don’t. Live with that discomfort long enough to make amends for your mistakes.
Love yourself. So accept no freebies. Take yourself seriously enough so as not to congratulate yourself just for existing.
Love yourself. You don’t deserve everything, simply because you exist. That’s entitlement.
Love yourself. But even better, get over yourself.
Identity is not only what you decide by yourself. If someone asks you: who are you?
You are a person. You can attach adjectives, what you do for a living, what you do for leisure, your political affiliations, a list of books you read, movies you watch, music you listen to, the art you appreciate, whether you like tea or coffee, whether you are a cat or a dog person, morning or night person, or anything else you choose.
But more than those individual embellishments, you are someone’s son or daughter, someone’s brother or sister, someone’s husband or wife, someone’s father or mother, someone’s employee, the citizen of a country, the participant in a community. This is where identity is to be found; this is where character is forged. You love yourself when you play these roles well.
This is where you derive your confidence. Not by sending flowers to yourself on Valentine’s Day because no man is good enough.
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