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On the last weekend of November, I watched the film Rosemead in Westchester County, New York, at a screening organized by OCA-WHV (Asian Pacific American Advocates-Westchester & Hudson Valley Chapter). This film moved me deeply with its delicate and authentic storytelling, the actors’ remarkably emotional performances, and the filmmakers’ profound understanding of the struggles facing Asian immigrant families. The director told a heavy yet real story with both restraint and power, bringing the characters’ pain, love, struggle, and helplessness to life in such a vivid way that I couldn’t help but feel it all alongside them. I have tremendous respect for the creative team’s courage in directly confronting such difficult subjects such as mental illness, stigma, terminal illness, cultural conflict, and family trauma and presenting them with such honesty and care.
As a marriage and family therapist, I had the privilege of facilitating a discussion with nearly a hundred audience members after the screening. People shared deeply moving reflections and insightful perspectives, exploring whether the ending could have taken a different path and what real-world lessons this film offers our community. The conversation lingered with me long after and inspired me with more reflection. I’d like to share some of my thoughts here from a professional standpoint.
First, a fundamental question: Is schizophrenia a real illness?
From Joe’s early hallucinations and auditory delusions to his later aggressive behaviors and the persistent, intrusive thoughts of harming others that he cannot control, I believe the answer is clear. Schizophrenia has a well-established physiological basis, including changes in brain chemistry and abnormalities in brain structure. It is typically a long-term condition, but with medication and psychotherapy, many individuals can regain significant functioning. The exact cause remains unclear and may involve genetics, life experiences, substance use, and other factors. The film does not clearly show any hereditary influences, but it is obvious that the death of Joe’s father inflicted profound psychological trauma on him, leading to recurring flashbacks, hypervigilance, and other trauma symptoms. This is also the primary focus of the therapist’s intervention in the film. From the brief scenes we see, the therapist guides Joe to revisit the traumatic event, verbalize his experience, and uses EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) bilateral stimulation to help reprocess traumatic memories and reduce emotional intensity. We see Joe recounting his experience at the motel while tapping his shoulders for self-soothing which are techniques commonly used in trauma therapy. Had Joe continued treatment, his symptoms might have gradually improved. However, Joe and Irene ultimately discontinued therapy. As Irene sharply said to the doctor, “You think just because you look Asian, you really understand us?” From the therapist’s perspective, he offered support and encouragement, but after a few visits, they never returned to the therapy room.
What Went Missing in the Therapy Room?
The therapist showed empathy and care for both Joe and Irene and used individual therapy techniques to support Joe. However, it is unfortunate that, although he recognized the importance of involving Irene and successfully brought her into the room, he did not sufficiently integrate the deep-rooted cultural stigma, shame, and mistrust that exist within immigrant and Asian communities. Mental illness has long been stigmatized. Terms like “schizophrenia,” “depression,” “anxiety,” and “PTSD” carry heavy negative connotations for many Chinese individuals. People often believe that those with mental illness are “crazy,” should be isolated, or locked in psychiatric hospitals, as though they have no place in society. In the film, Irene receives comments from other mothers that appear caring on the surface but are actually filled with judgment and exclusion. Another common belief is that psychological distress is not a real illness at all. It is merely “bad energy,” or simply a physical problem that can be cured with rituals, acupuncture, or traditional Chinese medicine. These misunderstandings and stigmas lead Irene to continually downplay the severity of Joe’s condition until she realizes he is having thoughts of harming others. By then, it is too late, her options are already limited.
As a family therapist trained in multicultural practice and shaped by a bicultural background, I couldn’t help but wonder: What if the therapist had incorporated these cultural stigmas, the discrimination and isolation they faced, and opened space in the therapy room to explore how culture shaped their understanding of diagnosis and treatment? What if he had clarified their misconceptions about schizophrenia, explored the real challenges this mother and son faced, their fears about seeking treatment, their anxiety about social judgment, and ways to cope? Perhaps they would have felt more understood, less defensive, and more willing to face the problems rather than avoid them.
The Missed Opportunity for Connection
With the therapist’s encouragement, Irene moved from waiting outside the door to sitting in the back of the therapy room for support, which was progress clearly. However, in individual therapy, the role of family members often remains limited to passive accompaniment, and this felt like a missed opportunity. The therapist did not fully explore how the mother–son relationship influenced Joe’s symptoms. During sessions, Joe frequently looked back at his mother. Outside of therapy, he repeatedly tried to talk to Irene, only to be interrupted or pushed away. We don’t know exactly what he wanted to say, but I suspect he wanted to talk about school, his interests, his father’s death, his fears about his mother’s illness, the devastating possibility of losing both parents in a short time, his longing for the family they once were, and the distressing hallucinations, voices, fears, and violent thoughts he was experiencing. Most importantly, he longed for emotional connection with his mother. Yet Irene avoided deeper conversations again and again perhaps due to her own pain and struggles within the not emotionally expressive cultural norms. When Joe finally said, “You’re here, but not always,” she still responded with silence. Even though Irene loved Joe deeply, she did not realize that what he needed was not only practical caregiving, but emotional presence and understanding.
Seeing Joe’s disappointed expression as he repeatedly sought-and failed to receive-his mother’s emotional connection, I wished the therapist had invited Irene to move closer to him, even just to hold his hand, sit quietly beside him, or offer a hug. If the therapist had further guided Joe in expressing his deeper emotions, helped Irene truly hear him, and allowed Joe to feel his mother’s understanding, it could have brought tremendous relief to his symptoms. I also wished Joe could understand that Irene loved him deeply and wanted to protect him with all her might but did not know how to express her care amid her own pain and fear. If the two of them could move from isolated despair to becoming allies supporting one another, they might not have been able to stop Irene’s physical illness from progressing, but they could have created more courage and connection to break through stigma and find a different way for Irene to love and help Joe.
Achieving this would require the therapist to have solid training in systemic therapy and an understanding of the cultural patterns in Asian families around avoiding direct emotional expression, as well as the patience to guide them gradually toward connection. Combined with medication, additional interventions, individual and family therapy, it is possible that this family could have moved toward a different outcome. Of course, all of this remains hypothetical. In reality, even with every effort made, many challenges and uncertainties may still lie ahead, especially given the rapid progression of Irene’s illness.
What the Film Makes Us to Consider
I love this film. The actors convey the characters’ emotions with great subtlety at different stages, making the ending both emotionally powerful and entirely believable. As immigrants, we can feel Irene’s pain and despair as a mother, and we can also understand the deeper social and cultural pressures behind this single family’s story.
I want to discuss a key question: Is Joe’s life, as Irene insists, something only she can be responsible for? In the latter half of the story, Irene’s inner distress and exhaustion intensify. I believe this stems from her attempt to fulfill the cultural expectations placed on her by both society and family. On one hand, in collectivist cultures, the interests of the group outweigh those of the individual or family, and everyone is expected to bear responsibility toward society. On the other hand, in cultures that strongly emphasize parent–child connection, children are seen as extensions of their parents’ lives. Parents are not only responsible for caring for their children but also for their children’s behavior. Mothers in particular are often viewed as the primary caregivers and as individuals who should selflessly dedicate themselves to the family and society.
In the film, Irene tries to meet these two expectations —which, to some extent, conflict with each other— by carrying everything on her own. This becomes her way of expressing maternal love and fulfilling her sense of duty. However, from a Western individualistic perspective, a mother’s emotional journey might look very different. Irene and the nearly adult Joe are two separate individuals. If the mother makes all the decisions, she not only carries an overwhelming burden that leaves her struggling to breathe, but she also prevents her child from taking responsibility for his own life. In doing so, she unintentionally deprives him of the right to choose and to grow. Joe’s feelings and thoughts deserve to be acknowledged. He should bear at least part of the responsibility for his own life.
Often, when parents overly bind their lives to their children’s fate while overlooking the children’s true emotional needs, their protective love can subtly shift into unintended control. When parents expect their children to grow into the ideal image they hold, does that expectation take away the child’s freedom as an independent person? Can parents accept that their children may not be perfect that they might attend special education schools, not be top students, have psychological struggles, or even battle long-term mental illness? Are parents carrying too much on their children’s behalf? These are the questions the film raises. Regardless of cultural background, finding a balance between individual needs and the expectations of others and society is a challenge each of us must face.
A Closing Reflection
I believe Rosemead will resonate with every viewer in profoundly different ways. It’s like a clock that starts ticking quietly in your heart and continues long after you leave the theater.
May we never reduce anyone to a label of mental illness. May our society and communities offer more genuine acceptance, support, and understanding to those who struggle and to the families who love them. May family members deepen their understanding of mental illness and hold each other with true compassion through the journey. And may everyone touched by psychological distress find the courage to seek professional help early, without fear or shame, so they can receive the care they truly deserve.
I hope the impact and reflection sparked by Rosemead will open more meaningful conversations and help cultivate the understanding and change we so desperately need.
Author: Dr. Yaliu He is a New York State licensed marriage and family therapist, a professor, researcher and published author. She is the founder of Relate Reflect Therapy (https://relatereflecttherapy.com), a private practice in New York. She earned her Ph.D. from the University of Minnesota and completed a clinical research postdoctoral fellowship at The Family Institute at Northwestern University. She holds a Master’s Degree in Applied Psychology from Tsinghua University.
