Why we stop crying
How I am embracing tears again while trying to break generational trauma.
Victoria asked me a while back to collaborate with her and a few other amazing writers on an exploration of a very human act—crying. I said yes, of course! Thank you, , for passing the baton to me. Read on to find my take on crying as I walk through my personal journey with it.
My body tensed as my son started crying. As he escalates, my brain activates a fight-or-flight response. It will take many sessions before I realize this trigger of mine.
Why do we stop infants from crying? Why do we stop children and adults from crying? Isn’t crying healing?
My son burst out crying so loud the moment the doctor pulled him out from my womb the whole hospital wing could hear him. From then on, it marked days and nights of ample crying from him. He is a sensitive soul. Our natural impulse is to soothe him, find out what could be wrong, and try to make it stop.
This natural human impulse ensures the survival of our helpless infants and, thus, the survival of humankind. Our first means of communication is crying—signaling hunger, fear, discomfort, sleepiness, and more. Somewhere along the way, as we grew older and learned other ways to communicate, our crying decreased naturally. However, in many cultures, the reduction of crying was not only natural but also culturally accelerated or enforced.
As children of Chinese heritage, our elders reprimanded us for crying once we were out of the baby stage. Chinese culture has been steeped in Confucianism for more than 2500 years, which espouses restraint and composure. The goal is to balance emotional expression with self-control and maintain social harmony.
As a result, I did not cry for 20 years, at least not in front of others and with restraint when alone.
Sometimes, one or two tears escaped and rolled down silently on my poker face. That would be when I wish with all my might that no one noticed it or for a hole to open up and swallow me whole. Most times, I will summon all my might to remain tearless, to show fortitude.
As I reflect on myself, I wonder, too, with the people around me. Have I seen them cry? I have never seen my father cry, not in any situation at all. The women in my life—my mother, my Lai Ma (nanny), my Poh Poh, and Ah Ma (grandmothers)—usually don't cry. We won't find them crying in daily lives, and only in a death event might we catch a glimpse of it, but even then, with much restraint.
It was in the face of a loved one’s death that I finally tore through the emotional walls and cried—the death of my Ah Ma.
Ah Ma lived next door to us, and I grew up with her. Her cooking, which defines comfort for me, makes regular appearances in my household. I still make the soups she used to boil—clear bone broth with herbs or vegetables—and stir-fry vegetables the way she did—cing caau (clear-fried), which means sautéed lightly with some oil, garlic, and salt. I also cook soy sauce pork with potatoes, my favorite dish of hers.
When I heard Ah Ma had collapsed a second time from a stroke and was unconscious in Taiping Hospital, I immediately rushed back to her from KL, arriving late in the evening. After seeing her fragile state, I couldn’t leave, so I stayed overnight. My cousin stayed, too, and we reminisced late into the night about Ah Ma.
The next day, my parents and relatives visited in the morning. Seeing no change, my dad urged me to go home, but I refused. As they left for lunch, Ah Ma’s monitor started beeping like it had been possessed.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
I rushed to Ah Ma’s bedside while my cousin called her mother to ask them to come back. Everyone rushed back just in time to join us as the finality of a long, continuous tone took over.
Right then, amidst our quiet, restrained sobbing, I felt Ah Ma’s presence leave.
After her death, I circled Taiping’s lake garden alone while coming to terms with this unfamiliar rush of emotions. Ah Ma’s passing was my first brush with death so close to home. I told myself I should cry. I screamed, pounding the steering wheel, until finally, the floodgates broke open, and the tears rushed out. I parked the car and cried.
This burst of emotional crying is something I have not done since I was presumably a toddler. But it was also very much needed. It helped me to crystallize my feelings into something I can hold on to dearly instead. Ah Ma’s death not only shifted something inside me but became a catalyst for rethinking my life’s path.
Many, many years later, my next big crying episode was different. As I faced my father’s impending death and tried to say goodbye, the tears came crashing out as if a dam had broken. It overtook me right after my opening line, and I had to muster all my resilience to temporarily fortify the dam.
In researching types of crying for this article, I realized these were tears of despair—triggered by events or realizations that shake our core sense of security or hope. Unlike tears of sadness or frustration, despair carries the weight of finality, tied to the feeling that nothing can be changed or fixed.
I cried because I knew that I had almost exhausted all hope of keeping him alive, and here I was saying my goodbye, which ironically was interrupted by crying.
But not all crying is of grief and despair.
On a lighter note, and perhaps just as important, we often hold back our much-needed tears outside of grief and despair. So why don’t I see the older generations cry? Is it because of our culture? Is it because nobody else does it? Is it because they don’t know how?
Swimming with these thoughts, I texted my Lai Ma right before I went to sleep, “Lai Ma, I have a deep question. Why have I never seen you cry before?”
I awoke to this reply, “Very funny. How are the plants?” And just like that, my Lai Ma has deflected this very important question about human display of emotions. Why have I not seen her cry before? I may have to probe her when I visit next time.
Another crying that I discovered recently is the tears of vulnerability. During our friendship reunion retreat, my best friend and I co-hosted reflection sessions with our friends to reconnect and strengthen our bond.
As we shared some of our deepest thoughts and emotions, the tears began to flow. It was refreshing. Despite being friends for over 20 years, I could count the times I’d seen them cry on one hand.
Not only that, but I realized that I no longer held back the tears that were flowing. I no longer wished for a place to hide while I cried. I just let the tears flow as I continued to share from my heart.
These tears of vulnerability unblock something within us, aiding in healing and acceptance as we are heard and accepted by those we trust. It also strengthens both our connection and our bond.
Then there are tears of joy—more elusive for me. As someone who is generally positive, it takes a lot for me to get emotional over something joyful. But I vividly remember crying at the wedding of a dear Filipina friend.
A few years prior, we went on a weekend trip to Bohol; she was still single then. One night, I convinced her to join me in search of awe through stargazing by the sea. Under the starlit sky, lying on a bed of soft sand, we shared our hopes and dreams. She longed to find someone worthy of sharing her life with.
As I witnessed her celebration of love, tears of joy flowed out in spite of myself. It was beautiful to cry for joy, especially for the happiness of someone you care about.
There are happy tears, and then there is also the absence of tears.
It is also ok not to cry.
When my best friend asked me how I was feeling during my father’s remembrance day, I was not feeling anything acutely. I wasn’t crying. I had a wistful feeling as I savored the green tea ice cream. I felt soothed talking to my son about him, remembering him.
There was no need for tears here. It does not mean I have grieved about. It also does not mean I am holding back any feelings. It is just what it is- not all emotions can be expressed by tears.
My son cried in frustration when his Lego broke apart, but he didn’t cry when we spoke about his late grandfather.
Are all crying equal? One no less valid than another?
As I reflect on these acts of crying—whether from despair, vulnerability, or even joy—I realize how deeply ingrained our cultural and familial conditioning around crying truly is.
I want to break this generational trauma. I want to teach my son that it’s okay to express his emotions fully, without shame. But I have to admit, it’s still a work in progress.
Breaking these patterns won’t happen overnight. But with each tear I allow, and each moment I encourage my son to feel, I hope we are both learning something different—that crying is not a sign of weakness, but a sign that we are human, that we can be sad, or vulnerable, or in despair, or healing. But most importantly, we are embracing what it means to be human.
If you enjoyed this exploration of crying, do check out the rest of the anthology here:
The Caring About Crying Anthology. We All Cry. You’re Not Alone.
Sept 1 Launch article: Caring About Crying. We All Cry. You’re Not Alone By
at Carer Mentor: Empathy and InspirationSept 2 & 14 Crying: 'Did you know?' Resource: Tears the science and some art. By Victoria at Carer Mentor: Empathy and Inspiration
Sept 3 'Cry, Baby. Why Our Tears Matter' A Podcast Interview. Dan Harris and Dr Bianca Harris of Ten Percent Happier with Reverend Benjamin Perry. By Victoria at Carer Mentor: Empathy and Inspiration
Sept 4 ‘In Conversation with Rev. Benjamin Perry’. Victoria interviews the Author of 'Cry Baby: Why Our Tears Matter' By Victoria at Carer Mentor: Empathy and Inspiration
Sept 5 ‘My stoic mom's parting gift: Making peace with tears’ By
at Sandwich SeasonSept 6 We Invite You to 'Care About Crying'. By Victoria on behalf of the team.
Sept 6 ‘ICU Special Edition: There's Crying in Baseball?’ By
at HCT:Heal Cure TreatSept 7 Triggered. Caring About Crying Anthology By
at After He Said Cancer and at The Future WidowSept 8 'Can't Cry. Want to Cry??' A Caregiver's Paradox of Human-ing. By Victoria at Carer Mentor: Empathy and Inspiration
Sep 9 ‘AWC Town Bulletin - On Crying’ By
and at Asian Writers CollectiveSep 10 The Healing Power of Tears By Louisa Wah at Lily Pond
Sept 11 My Tears are not a Grief Gauge by
at Gen XandwichSept 13 Sweet Relief After He Said Cancer | A Memoir by Kristina Adams Waldorf, MD at After He Said Cancer
Sept 15 When was the last time you cried in public? Moving from private grief to community healing by
at HeartbeatsSept 16 Crying While Parenting: A Mindful Approach by
at Dr. Amber Writes.Sept 17 Cry, Baby, Cry By Louisa Wah at Lily Pond
The next one in this series will be
!Share your thoughts:
Did you stop crying?
Are you crying (again)?
How do you like best for others to respond when you are crying?
What a beautiful and thoughtful piece about crying. I didn't know about the cultural lessons to keep composure and restraint. I wonder how many cultures teach that restraint is admirable? How many encourage the free expression of emotions? I grew up in the USA and was encouraged not to deeply examine my own emotions, but crying was viewed as acceptable, if the situation was "right". It's been tricky to know what I am feeling sometimes because I've learned to repress it. My teenage son will be better at identifying and managing his emotions, I hope.
Very interesting to read this piece. I cry a lot... for me it's to release the tension, the stress. Usually under the shower, but sometimes also in front of my children when I'm at breaking point. I was told to cry in private when I was a kid, my emotions were not to be displayed. So now as a parent I want to tell my kids that crying is good, it's a way of releasing their emotions.