In the bustling neighborhood of Flushing, Queens; Chinatown, Manhattan and even the suburban enclave of Great Neck, New York, a silent crisis is unfolding. While the New York Metropolitan Area thrives as a cultural and economic hub for Asian Americans, its elders increasingly grapple with isolation, mental health struggles in the widening gap in understanding with younger generations.
“The pandemic took away more than just lives– It took away our sense of connection,” said Meng Yun, 68, a hair stylist in Flushing. “I used to see my friends at the senior center every week, but now I rarely go out. My children don’t have the time to visit often and I feel like I’m living in a different world from my grandchildren. ”
Asian elders were already vulnerable to loneliness and depression, often compounded by language, barriers and cultural stigma around mental health. The pandemic only worsened these challenges, disrupting community rituals and severing crucial support networks, like weekly mahjong games or morning tai chi at the park. For many elders, these gatherings weren’t just regular outings–they were lifelines that gave them a sense of purpose and variation in their lives.
According to a 2023 study by the Asian American Federation, rates of reported depression among Asian seniors in New York City rose by nearly 40% since 2020. For many youth, navigating this gap feels insurmountable.
“My grandma doesn’t speak English very well, and I barely know any Cantonese,” said Eunice Lim, a high school junior in Brooklyn. “It’s hard to communicate, and I feel so horrible about it. I want to connect with her and I want to hear all of her stories, but it feels like we are so close yet so far away.”
The stigma surrounding mental health in Asian cultures complicates efforts to address these issues. In Chinese culture especially, it is not common for elders to live in the same home as their children. Many elders fear being perceived as weak or a burden, opting to endure alone and in silence.
“It’s not easy to talk about these feelings,” said 84-year-old Ping Xu Ye from Great Neck. “In my generation, we swallowed our tongue and kept marching onwards.”
The isolation many elders face is further exacerbated by cultural norms that often discourage living in multigenerational households.
“It certainly gets very lonely,” Ping added.
Despite the challenges, efforts are underway to bridge the divide. Community organizations in New York, such as the Chinese-American Planning Council and the Korean Community Services of Metropolitan New York, are implementing intergenerational programs. These include storytelling workshops, where elders share personal histories, and language exchange classes, where younger participants learn to speak their family’s native tongue. Here, the Great Neck Chinese Association hosts many events for elders at the community center on Grace Avenue. Programs like these aim to rebuild the connections that were lost during the pandemic.
Some initiatives take a more modern approach, as interactions become increasingly digital. Many senior centers have volunteers, who teach seniors how to use smart phones. For example, since many people use an app called WeChat, this training helps them connect with family members through video calls, text messages and more.
“I just want to feel part of my family again,” Ping said. “Is that too much to ask?”
For families like Ping’s, the challenge lies in finding ways to maintain these intergenerational bonds in a rapidly changing world.
As New York’s Asian American community continues to grow and change, these efforts highlight the importance of building bridges across generations. No matter the method, whether it’s spending time together in a park, or listening to stories at the dinner table, the goal is the same: to ensure that no elder feels forgotten, or left behind in the communities they raised.
