Indonesia is not okay. And many of its young people are quietly breaking.
Since the outbreak of COVID-19, Indonesian youth have been living through more than just a public health emergency — they’ve been navigating an invisible, ongoing psychological crisis. What started as fear of a virus has evolved into a wave of unprocessed grief, buried beneath routines, deadlines, and digital distractions.
The pandemic shattered key foundations of identity and security for young people — school, friendships, daily rituals, and imagined futures. Many lost parents, grandparents, teachers, and mentors. Yet while public conversations focused on economic recovery and physical health, the emotional aftermath was largely ignored. No one taught them how to grieve. There was no collective ritual, no roadmap for healing. Their sorrow — emotional, social, existential — was quietly silenced.
Globally, grief has been called one of the most under-acknowledged mental health challenges of our time. Over one million children and youth worldwide lost close family members to COVID-19. In Indonesia, one in three adolescents now report symptoms of anxiety, depression, or suicidal thoughts — and yet, only a small percentage ever seek or receive support.
On the outside, it may seem like things are “back to normal.” But beneath the surface, many young Indonesians are still grieving.
What Is Grief, Really?
Grief is a natural and complex emotional response to loss — not just the loss of life, but of certainty, belonging, and identity. It can arise from:
- The death of a loved one
- Relationship breakdowns or emotional neglect
- Losing routine, dreams, or a sense of direction
- Family conflict, economic hardship, or displacement
- Cultural disconnection or loss of faith in societal systems
As the American Psychological Association puts it:
“Grief is not limited to death — it can be triggered anytime life as you knew it changes.”
Psychologist Pauline Boss introduced the concept of ambiguous loss — the grief that comes without closure. This might mean grieving someone who is still alive but emotionally distant, or mourning a future that will never happen. In Indonesia, young people may experience ambiguous loss through:
- The disappearance of trusted routines and role models during the pandemic
- Eroding faith in education, leadership, or national progress
- Ongoing political, social, and climate uncertainty
- Feeling invisible in a society that often silences youth voices
These forms of grief are harder to name — but they weigh heavily on mental well-being, identity, and life choices.
When Grief Is Unprocessed, It Doesn’t Vanish — It Morphs
Unacknowledged grief doesn’t go away. It finds other ways to express itself:
- Emotional numbness or disconnection from self and others
- Overachievement as a mask for pain
- Chronic indecision, self-doubt, and fear of the future
- Difficulty forming healthy relationships
- Burnout, fatigue, and a deep sense of disillusionment
Social media hashtags like #IndonesiaGelap (“Dark Indonesia”) and #KaburAjaDulu (“Let’s Just Escape”) aren’t just internet trends — they’re collective cries for help. They speak to a generation that feels disempowered, unheard, and emotionally adrift.
If we continue to overlook this quiet crisis, Indonesia risks raising a generation without the emotional resilience, self-agency, or hope needed to build a better future.
So, Who Holds the Responsibility — and What Can Be Done?
This is not a problem one organization or institution can solve alone. It is a collective responsibility.
- Families and communities must be willing to hold space for difficult conversations — to listen without judgment and to validate the emotional struggles of young people.
- Schools and educators must go beyond academic achievement and nurture emotional intelligence, empathy, and psychological safety.
- Governments and policymakers must fund mental health infrastructure that is accessible, youth-friendly, and culturally attuned.
- Civil society and youth-led initiatives must be empowered to co-create safe spaces for dialogue, self-expression, and healing.
Healing doesn’t begin with advice or quick fixes. It starts with recognition — with giving grief a name. What’s needed are intersectional, culturally sensitive, and youth-led spaces where young people can process their emotions, reconnect with themselves and others, and reimagine their future.
Because grief isn’t just about loss. It’s also about love, growth, and the human capacity to begin again.
