Growing up in an Asian immigrant household in the United States, health was never something we talked about openly. My parents, like many others in our community, came to this country with limited English proficiency and even less familiarity with the American healthcare system. Navigating doctor visits, insurance forms, and medical jargon often fell to my siblings and me. We became translators, advocates, and sometimes even decision-makers—roles that shaped how I view health and wellness today.
The Silent Stories in Our DNA
In many Asian cultures, health is often approached holistically and quietly. We rely on traditional remedies, family wisdom, and a strong sense of resilience. But what’s often missing is documentation - written records of our family’s health history. I didn’t know until recently that my grandfather had Parkinson's, or that heart disease ran on my mother’s side. These are critical pieces of information that could help me and future generations make informed health decisions.
For immigrant families, documenting health history is not just a matter of filling out forms - it’s a cultural and linguistic challenge. Medical terms don’t always translate easily, and asking elders about their health can feel intrusive or disrespectful. There’s also a generational gap in understanding the importance of keeping records. Many of our parents didn’t grow up with annual checkups or electronic health records. Their health stories live in memory, not on paper.
That’s why I deeply appreciate the resources offered by the Health Sciences Library & Informatics Center (HSLIC) at the University of New Mexico. They provide tools, guidance, and culturally sensitive support to help families like mine document their health history. Whether it's through workshops, bilingual materials, or access to digital platforms, HSLIC empowers individuals to take control of their health narratives.
For someone like me, an accountant by profession but a health advocate by necessity, these resources are invaluable. They bridge the gap between generations, languages, and systems. They help us preserve our family’s health legacy, not just for medical reasons, but as a way of honoring our past and protecting our future.
Moving Forward
Understanding and documenting family health history isn’t just about preventing disease. It’s about connection. It’s about recognizing the patterns that shape our lives and using that knowledge to build healthier communities. For Asian American families and other immigrant groups, it’s also about reclaiming agency in a system that often feels overwhelming.
I encourage everyone, especially those from immigrant backgrounds, to start the conversation. Ask questions. Write things down. Use the resources available. Your family’s health story matters, and it deserves to be heard.
