Cultural Gaslighting in Relationships

It usually doesn’t begin with anything big. It might be a comment like, “You don’t actually believe in that stuff, do you?” when you light a candle for your ancestors. Or a raised eyebrow when you explain why you feel guilty for engaging in self-care or buying something for yourself. It might show up as impatience or an eye roll when you switch to your native language to speak with your family or when you take time to help them with something. It might be a well-meaning suggestion that maybe it’s time to “let go” of that tradition that’s been in your family for generations, or the awkward silence when you talk about your faith.

This is what I’ve come to understand as cultural gaslighting—a quiet, often unintentional erosion of someone’s cultural identity within the context of a close relationship. At its root, cultural gaslighting delivers one clear, unspoken message: Your story doesn’t make sense to me, so it must not matter. It suggests that your background is invalid, your traditions irrelevant, your feelings about something irrational. It can make you question whether the values and traditions with which you were raised are somehow less evolved.

And when those values are questioned by someone you love, it can leave you feeling conflicted, and unable to explain why it bothers you.

Why It’s So Hard to Name

Naming cultural gaslighting is hard, in part, because there’s no script for it. And when the messages from your own upbringing were layered and conflicting, it’s even harder to untangle. Become your own person but never stray too far. Assimilate, but don’t forget your roots. Make your own choices but consult with us on everything.

Be this, but also be that.

So when someone you love says, “I don’t get why you call your mom every day,” it’s hard to nail down what, exactly, you’re feeling, let alone find the words.

And still you try to help them understand. You shrink the story, translate your experience into language they can grasp, perhaps leaving out the spiritual, the sacred, the complicated beauty of your origins. You hope, time and again, that if you explain it in just the right way, they’ll finally get it. They will hop into your story and not only see what you see but also appreciate it. Maybe even learn from it.

But when your efforts are constantly met with confusion and dismissal—"Sorry, I just don’t get it"—doubt creeps in. Maybe I am being too sensitive. Maybe I do need to loosen up. Maybe it is weird that I still feel responsible for helping my family.

And that’s the insidious thing about the impact of cultural gaslighting. Simple comments don’t necessarily escalate into a shouting match between you. The effect is remarkably sneaky; it waits in the corners until your self-doubt starts to speak louder than your sense of truth, making you question the things that shaped you, the ways you were taught to love.

This doubt can lead to feelings of loneliness, to the quiet ache of loving someone who doesn’t honor the soil you come from—who questions the stories that shaped you, the heritage you carry, the voices of those who came before.

The Path to Understanding

Sometimes the person doing the gaslighting doesn’t even realize they’re doing it. They may see themselves as rational or progressive, completely in the dark about how their lens is shaped by privilege or different norms. They may genuinely believe they’re helping you by trying to free you from guilt or obligation—without realizing that those emotions are deeply tied to love and identity.

And yet, this doesn’t mean you have to give up on the relationship. Cultural gaslighting, like any relational harm, can be named, unpacked, and healed—if both people are willing to do the work.

Start by asking yourself: Who am I when I stop editing myself for someone else’s comfort?

Don’t expect the answer to come all at once. It unfolds slowly, over time, as you begin to turn inward and identify what feels deeply true. What beliefs still resonate at your core—and which ones were simply handed to you? What parts of your culture feel like home, and which ones feel heavy, inherited without choice? What are you holding on to because it still grounds you—and what are you afraid to let go of, even though it no longer fits?

This is not about abandoning your roots, nor is it about clinging to everything out of guilt or fear. It’s about discernment, about the process of coming home to yourself by listening with curiosity, not fear.

And once you find some clarity, it will be easier to share it with the person who loves you. Not from a place of defensiveness, and certainly not to prove anything, but to invite them into deeper understanding.

You might say: “I’ve been thinking a lot about where I come from and what I want to carry forward. Some of it is cultural, some of it is spiritual—and it’s okay if you don’t fully get it. But I need you to respect that it matters to me.” Or:“I want to shift from doing things out of guilt to doing them out of love, and I need space to figure that out without feeling judged.”

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These kinds of conversations don’t have to lead to agreement—only to a deeper willingness to hold space for one another’s experiences.

If you’ve been the one doing the gaslighting—perhaps unintentionally—this is your invitation to lean in with humility and curiosity, not judgment. Ask questions, and when they share their traditions, their faith, or their family ties, remember that this isn’t about agreement. It’s about honoring the dignity of the person you love.

Conclusion

Cultural gaslighting isn’t just about words; it’s about belonging. It’s about the quiet grief of having to explain your love for your people, your traditions, your way of being in the world. But healing begins the moment you stop asking for permission to be whole. It begins when you remember that your story doesn’t need to be simplified to be sacred. And it continues when the person you love chooses to lean in—not to fix or question, but to witness you, to honor what shaped you, and to make room for all of it.