Invisible Baggage: The Mental Health Crisis Among International Students

By guest contributor Ankita Ankita

In August 2023, I packed my entire life into two oversized suitcases. I was leaving India—my family, my friends, my culture behind, for a new destination called Canada with a new identity: international student.

I did everything required. I paid my first-year university fees to meet my visa requirements. I packed food to survive the first few homesick days and secured a tiny rental online. But what I didn’t pack for or expect—was the mental cost that would quietly, but insistently, follow me.

This is not just my story. It’s a shared experience for more than one million international students in Canada, USA, and many other countries, each chasing dreams, ambitions, and a better life—while often finding themselves mentally overwhelmed in an unfamiliar land. While I will focus on the Canadian context here, it is worth nothing that in the U.S. right now, international students are terrified of getting their visas revoked, deported or worse. I cannot imagine the mental stress they must be enduring.

A Silent Pandemic

According to the  Youth Mental Health Canada (YMHC) approximately 1.2 million children and youth in Canada are affected by mental illness, yet less than 20% receive appropriate treatment.

While one in five Canadians faces mental health challenges, only one in three will seek help. What about the other two? They suffer in silence.

Although there is limited data specifically on international students, existing research shows they are at even higher risk of anxiety, depression, social isolation, and tragically, increased suicide risk compared to domestic students. These challenges are driven by financial stress, immigration pressures, cultural displacement, racism, and a profound sense of not belonging.

Ramiya (name changed), an Indian student at McGill, recalled:

“During my first year, I struggled with loneliness and stress. I was depressed—I would cry at night because I had no friends in class and felt like an outsider. I didn’t realize that coming here wouldn’t just be a battle of assignments and studies, but a daily fight—to earn a living, to cope with being labeled an outsider and to deal with language barrier.”

The Cost of Stigma and Silence

The silence isn’t always voluntary. Cultural stigma and fear of judgment often deter international students from seeking mental health support. In many cultures, mental health issues are taboo, leading students to worry about being labeled as weak or unstable.

Concerns about confidentiality and potential repercussions further discourage students from accessing support. Many fear that disclosing mental health struggles could jeopardize their visa status, or lead to being deemed inadmissible under Canadian immigration inadmissibility category.

Further, Grace (name changed), a Nigerian student, shared:

“I left my two-year-old daughter behind when I came to Canada, hoping to build a better life for us. But the first six months were traumatic. My landlady mistreated me—I didn’t even have access to hot water. I was very depressed, but I didn’t report her because I was terrified of legal issues. Meanwhile, I was drowning in assignments and juggling a part-time job just to survive. I knew I needed help, but I was afraid—and no time to seek it.”

According to the World Health Organization, untreated mental health conditions are among the leading causes of disability among youth. And yet, international students—despite being isolated and vulnerable—remain invisible in both campus policies and national discourse.

We may appear composed, attending classes, working shifts, posting travel photos—but inside, many of us are barely coping. Most professors and teachers do not know this.

Aarti, an international student from India, described:

“I thought I knew English—I passed IELTS, after all. But once I got here, everything felt different. The slang, local dialects… I couldn’t understand much of what my peers were saying. Group assignments were intimidating. Making friends was even harder. I always felt like an outsider trying to catch up.”

Barriers to Care

Even when students decide to seek help, the support system often fails them. Most university mental health services are under-resourced, have long wait times and lack cultural awareness.

A report from The Globe and Mail highlighted how international students often feel misunderstood or dismissed by counsellors unfamiliar with migration trauma or cultural context. Access is another issue: wait times for publicly funded therapy can exceed six months.

“A poll conducted by Québec public sector psychologists found that the wait times for psychotherapy were typically between 6-24 months” notes the Canadian Mental Health Association in a 2024 report.

Meanwhile, political rhetoric has further alienated us. Politicians have blamed international student for housing shortages, infrastructure strain, and “stealing spots” from domestic students— despite the fact that we contribute over $22 billion to Canada’s economy. 

In January 2024, former Federal Immigration Minister Marc Miller announced a drastic cap on new international study permits. But the real issue isn’t international students—it’s the chronic underfunding of post-secondary education and the nationwide lack of affordable housing.

We are not the cause. We are the collateral.

One student summed it up powerfully:

“We pay over five times more than domestic students for the same education. And yet, we’re treated like we’re taking someone else’s place. We’re giving everything—financially, emotionally—but still, we’re made to feel like we don’t belong”.

What can be Done

According to research from the Centre for Innovation in Campus Mental Health (CICMH), adjusting to a new culture is a significant factor contributing to international students’ mental health challenges.

Universities administrators must ensure mental health support is not only accessible but also culturally sensitive. This includes hiring multilingual, culturally trained counselors and developing personalized care plans that reflect students’ diverse backgrounds.

Governments must stop scapegoating international students in political discourse. Blaming us for housing or food price crises is not only inaccurate—it fosters discrimination and distracts from the systemic reforms truly needed.

To my fellow domestic students, I have this message: be inclusive. Take a moment to check in with your international classmates. Be patient if someone struggles with your accent or dialect.

A Final Word

In a world increasingly divided by borders and barriers, empathy is our strongest bridge. International students don’t need pity—we need visibility, community, and systems that support us.

Let’s not allow invisible baggage to define the international student experience in Canada, USA or any other place. Together, we can unpack it—with honesty, understanding, and action.

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Disclaimer: Views expressed by contributors are solely those of individual contributors, and not necessarily those of PLOS.