The “Pathological People Pleaser” to “Badtameez” Pipeline

When I was seven or eight years old, my dad told me “you are the image that other people see of you”. Certainly a choice piece of advice to give a child.

At twenty seven years old, I can safely say: giving a shit about what people think about you is overrated, and the best I’ve ever felt is when I’ve disappointed people.

As the Bengali eldest daughter of immigrants, I’ve been “a pathological people pleaser” my entire life. I did it with my parents, friends, teachers, managers, partners, in-laws, you name it. The only thing I ever got was screwed over. I plan and prep and clean up only to see everyone else reap the benefits of my work but never turn around and do the same for me.

Let me be very clear: I’ve never done anything because I expected something in return. But it’s also become very clear that I’m never going to get the same effort back that I give out. And that’s a little sad.

But this isn’t just a trauma dump, I’ve done that with my therapist.

I know I’m not alone. South Asian women have been overworked and under-appreciated for centuries. In fact, the Juggernaut just put out a piece on the connection between people pleasing and autoimmune diseases in South Asian women. It’s literally killing us. But is that going to get me to say no to my in-laws? No. Nor is it going to get my husband to grow a spine.

According to the Juggernaut article, “In May 2026, artist Alida Sun went viral for posting a simple message on Instagram: ‘You need to be a b*** or else you will develop an autoimmune disease.’”. This couldn’t have hit closer to home. I’ve literally told my parents and in-laws “maybe if I’d been more badtameez I wouldn’t have massive trauma and anxiety about the situation now”.

Both of my families have examples of girls who — for lack of better words — were “badtameez” to the elders and are much happier than I am now. What, then, was my benefit of pleasing everyone and being respectful?

The wedding the way our parents wanted. Giving every account of my whereabouts. Calling often. Being at everyone’s beck and call. Only so I can be the one that’s forgotten. Ghar ki daal. So I’m the one that develops a stomach ulcer and throws up from the anxiety every morning when she wakes up — true story. I have to attempt to be perfect, responsible, respectful, while also somehow getting the consequences of strict brown parents and none of the perks of their new-age wisdom and support. I get to hear the “we are not an American family” spiel while everyone else enjoys the luxuries of one.

And yet there are still plenty of faults that can apparently be found in me. “Does she swear”; “what’s on her social media”; “she stood too close to him [her fiancé]”; “she laughed too loud”; “she didn’t help clean the kitchen”; “she’s putting too much on the internet!”

Maybe it’s time we all start being “badtameez”? Because what have we gained from pleasing those who clearly aren’t pleased with themselves? Maybe it’s time we just embrace being the disappointment.