Spotlight Fallacy, Brushfire Fallacy, and How They Drive South Asian Anxiety and Self-Esteem

When I was a freshman in high school, a Black girl my age, let’s call her T, sat across from me on the bus. She was speaking to me about an Indian immigrant student, let’s call her G, who recently moved to our suburb from  India. G faced a lot of harsh criticism at a predominantly white school where there were maybe, like, 5 Indian American kids. She carried the scent of home-cooked Indian food with her. Her hair was long, thick, and frizzy, and kept in traditional styles. In the age of Abercrombie and American Eagle, she was out of style. She was a good student, but shy and picked on a lot. Even the Indian American kids who were born and raised in the U.S. made fun of her. One even took out a Bath and Body Works perfume and sprayed her in the girls’ locker room. 

But that’s not what T was talking about. Instead, what she said next was somewhat jarring, but not the least bit surprising to me. 

“She was talking about how you’re a hoe and sleep around because you’re wearing those jean shorts.” 

I laugh at this now, but at the time my jaw dropped. To be honest, I was expecting this to happen. The way G looked at me in the hallway indicated that she wanted to know the details of my life since we were both part of a small subgroup of Indian kids. Other than that, I had no connection to her. I would be lying if I didn’t say there was a rift between South Asian Americans born and raised in the West and South Asian immigrants, the former being pretty unkind to the latter. That was not the case in this instance, though. I had a completely different group of friends and social circle. We never even shared a class together! The few times she’s spoken to me, though, she would ask me questions that made me pretty uncomfortable, questions like Am I Indian? What part of India is my family from? Do I have a boyfriend? It might have been her socially awkward way of making conversation. On top of that, being picked on for being an immigrant probably taught her that’s how to “fit in”—by picking on other people too. The brain is a fickle organ, and memory is an unreliable source; it’s possible that there was more to our interactions than just how she perceived me, and how I treated her. 

T went on to talk about how she stood up for me, which I thanked her for, but she wasn’t responsible for the anger and disgust, the fear in my gut, an understanding that all South Asian Americans share: somebody’s watching me. Gone was the guise of living in a predominantly White neighborhood and having the privilege of invisibility; if anything, being one of a few made me more visible. 

I used to joke that, “If an Indian stranger asks you if you’re Indian, it’s in your best interests to lie…and say you’re Puerto Rican”. I joke about the hidden truth that some people only criticize if there’s a shared background. If I was White, Black, Hispanic, or East Asian, I doubt that G would care that I wore jean shorts. But she had this idea that “good Indian girls” don’t wear jean shorts; that it’s sexually provocative and indicative of our sex lives. She didn’t care what the White or other girls at our school wore as they were of no interest to her. But she was preoccupied with MY life and the lives of the other Indian kids at our school. 

Here’s the thing: as a kid, whenever something happened in our immediate household, mom and dad’s final words were, “Don’t tell (insert name here), okay?”. The person in question was usually a cousin, an aunt, or another family friend. The fear was instilled in us that if anyone outside the house found out about our mistakes, rumors would spread like wildfire. That people were watching us and keeping tabs on us. That there were people who might be jealous and jinx us. Specifically, within my parents’ Catholicism, there was a fear that we wouldn’t be granted any blessings from God. Generally, the stereotype is that South Asians are nosy as fuck, and the aunties love to gossip. If they got wind of something they disapprove of, it’s a reflection of your parents, and then they have to deal with the consequences. You would think it would have stopped with my generation; it didn’t. In fact, there are modern books within the South Asian Diaspora that play on this cultural trait, like the juicy thriller You’re Invited by Amanda Jayatissa. 

It wasn’t until early in my therapy career that I learned about Spotlight Fallacy and Brushfire Fallacy. Spotlight fallacy is the belief that everyone is watching you as if you’re on a stage and performing for others. The Brushfire fallacy is the belief that if one person looks down on you, that vicious rumors will spread like wildfire, and that one person’s disapproval means everyone else will disapprove too. These self-defeating beliefs were coined by Dr. David Burns of TEAM-CBT. But these self-defeating beliefs are not fallacies for South Asian Americans; they are real life. It’s not just a belief system fed by our parents. Many of us have witnessed these fallacies come to life, and though I only describe one instance when this came true for me, there have been plenty more. These fallacies are small “t” traumas for many South Asian Americans, the adversity of growing up Desi. 

Many South Asian Americans have been shunned or judged by their communities for making choices that differ from the group mentality. For instance, there are South Asian Americans who are LGBTQ+ that have lost family and community support, some even outed against their will. When the group disapproves of your choices, there’s a realistic fear that word will spread and that other people will disapprove as well. Disapproval and shunning have consequences. The EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing Therapy) Institute, a type of therapy that treats deep-rooted trauma, identified “connection and belonging” as a clinical theme central to treating trauma and adversity, specifically for those suffering from cultural barriers. When people fear disapproval, it limits our ability to be our authentic, individual selves. It increases anxiety, decreases self-esteem, and a fear of being “found out” for our inadequacies. Doesn’t that sound a lot like imposter syndrome at work? The secrecy and shame become pervasive and all-encompassing! It encourages hiding choices in secrecy and shame, labeling these choices and ourselves with a negative association and identity. When we do this, the consequences can be severe. This cave of secrecy and shame can exacerbate a whole other set of anxiety disorders, such as eating and obsessive-compulsive disorders. 

I’m a South Asian American therapist. I see South Asian American clients. Namely, I see South Asian American clients who resonated with my experience as the “black sheep” of my family. South Asian Americans also feel like outcasts for daring to be different and making choices that don’t align with the group around them. Now, it’s easy for me to say, “You’re not alone”, because I see people like this all the time, but when you don’t, it can be very isolating to not see people who know what it’s like every day. When you feel alone, it can intensify the shame and the secrecy, along with the belief that you can never be your true self around your community. 

We can’t always turn off the spotlight or stop the brushfire from spreading. We can’t control what other people do. We can’t stop people from talking about us. We can’t change how feel about our choices, and they have the right to their own opinion. That doesn’t mean we have to hide or let what they think to affect our decisions. We can also:

1.) Identify one thing you can share with your family and community. You’re allowed to let people in! Find one thing that is feasible for you to open up about, but might be a little challenging, in order to squash the spotlight and brushfire beliefs in your mind. 

2.) Support someone who opens up about a choice that veers from the cultural norms. It’s easier to be compassionate to other people with similar struggles than to ourselves. When you make it okay for someone else, you make it okay for you and for other people too. 

3.) Call out harsh gossip when you hear it. There will be people quick to judge someone’s weight, marital status, family status, and sexual orientation. Make it known that you don’t agree. 

4.) Remember you are not alone. There are plenty of South Asian Americans in general who disagree with the group mindset and conservative values. Not everyone will judge you. 

The loudest people are often the minority, and it’s the minority that dictates the group mindset. The people who disagree likely stay silent, also hiding in the cave of secrecy and shame, because they’re afraid of judgment too. It takes one person to break the cycle and choose to be themselves in a room full of people saying they’re not “brown enough” or they’re “bringing shame on their family”. While it can be an uphill battle to break tradition, you never know who might be silently thanking you for it. You have no idea who you’re paving the way for. 

Like exposure therapy, the most effective way to treat the anxiety of “What will other people think?”, or most importantly, “How will my parents react?”, is to confront your fear. Take yourself out of your comfort zone one foot at a time. Slowly emerge from the cave of secrecy and shame and emerge into the light.