In the quiet corners of a city street, in the hesitant pause before speaking in a classroom, in the double take at an ID card—minority stress lingers, an invisible yet deeply corrosive force. It is the slow, cumulative weight of existing in a society that, at best, tolerates your presence and, at worst, actively resents it.
Coined by social scientists, minority stress refers to the chronic stress experienced by individuals from marginalized communities due to prejudice, discrimination, and systemic exclusion. Unlike general stress, which arises from life’s daily challenges, minority stress is unrelenting. It does not subside when the workload eases or when a difficult situation passes. It is woven into the very fabric of identity.
In Pakistan, this phenomenon is particularly acute for religious minorities—Christians, Hindus, Ahmadis, Sikhs—who navigate a landscape fraught with hostility. From the microaggressions of everyday life to the looming threat of blasphemy accusations, the psychological toll is staggering. Studies have shown that prolonged exposure to discrimination leads to heightened rates of depression, anxiety, and even physical health deterioration. When a person is made to feel like an outsider in their own homeland, the effects manifest not only in the mind but in the body.
The architecture of minority stress is built from many layers. There is the fear of violence—both state-sanctioned and vigilante-led—that keeps people in a state of hypervigilance. There is economic marginalization, where certain jobs and opportunities are systemically withheld. There is the social stigma that makes everyday interactions fraught with tension. And then there is internalized oppression—the quiet self-doubt that creeps in when a person has been told for too long that they do not belong.
Yet, despite its profound impact, mental health remains a low priority in Pakistan’s policy landscape. With fewer than 500 psychiatrists serving a population of over 240 million, even those who recognize their psychological distress have little recourse for help. For minorities, the barriers are even greater. Many fear that seeking help will further expose them to discrimination. Others lack financial resources or access to culturally competent care.
What is the way forward? The first step is acknowledgment. Minority stress is not an abstract academic concept—it is a lived reality, one that must be addressed with urgency. Mental health services need to be expanded, stigma must be dismantled, and, most importantly, policies must be reformed to protect and uplift marginalized communities. This is not just a matter of individual well-being but of collective justice.
A society that forces its minorities to live in a state of constant psychological distress is a society on the brink of collapse. The question is not whether minority stress exists—it does. The question is: What will we do about it?
