Bait sheds light on British-Pakistani mental health struggles rarely seen on screen

Riz Ahmed’s Bait is an exceptional piece of television. Not only for its satirical exploration of the entertainment industry, but for the psychological narrative running underneath it.

At its heart, the Prime Video series is a quietly devastating study of the pressures placed upon British‑Pakistani men. What appears to be an eccentric comedy about a struggling actor auditioning for James Bond soon reveals itself to be a nuanced portrayal of shame, internalised stigma and the early signs of psychosis.

The series follows Shah Latif (Ahmed), whose obsessive pursuit of validation becomes a catalyst for a psychological unravelling. Shah’s downward spiral is shaped by relentless scrutiny and the fear of not belonging. These themes resonate strongly with a growing body of research on psychosis in British‑Pakistani communities.

A 2024 study in The British Journal of Psychiatry found a significantly higher incidence of first‑episode psychosis among British‑Pakistanis, compared with the majority population.

This offers an important parallel to Bait. Shah’s sense of cultural drift, his distance from grounding community structures and his struggle to inhabit multiple identities all heighten his vulnerability.

The show does not name psychosis explicitly, but Shah experiences intrusive thoughts, escalating paranoia, fragmentation of self and delusions. This reflects real trajectories observed in early intervention services.

Racism and psychosis

One of the most incisive threads in the series is the portrayal of racial microaggressions that Shah absorbs without resistance. These include remarks about his “Britishness”, comments on his appearance, and the persistent insinuation that he exists outside the cultural centre.

Recent research has shown that racial discrimination is one of the strongest predictors of psychosis risk. It increases the likelihood of psychotic symptoms by 77%, with physical racial attacks multiplying the risk five-fold.

Shah’s encounters – ranging from subtle jabs to overt dismissal – operate cumulatively, shaping his internal monologue and eroding his self-esteem. The brilliance of Bait lies in how it embeds these aggressions into the comedic structure, illustrating the subtle normalisation of harm.

The series highlights the importance of family dynamics, a key but under-researched factor in understanding psychosis among South Asian Muslims in the UK. A 2009 study found that families often had to navigate stigma, concerns about privacy and honour, and tensions between medical models of illness and culturally rooted understandings of distress.

Shah’s relationship with his family shifts between warmth, expectation and pressure, reflecting this complexity. Family can act as both a source of support and a cause of psychological strain.

Research examining British-Pakistani Muslim views on mental health has found that cultural stigma, fear of public opinion, and uncertainty around religious explanations can delay people seeking help.

These dynamics are reflected in the silence running through Shah’s world. Mental health struggles are hinted at but never openly discussed, and Shah instinctively hides his distress behind humour and performance. This also reflects how many communities describe mental health in moral or spiritual terms, rather than psychological ones.

I recently explored these issues in a podcast conversation with Zenab Sabahat, a PhD researcher at the University of Bradford. Her research looks at access to, experiences of and outcomes for South Asian Muslim families receiving family interventions for psychosis. This work explores how cultural identity stress, stigma and mismatches between different models of care shape pathways into support.

Sabahat’s work reinforces what Bait illustrates narratively: that psychological distress among British-Pakistanis is closely linked to experiences of migration, racism, cultural belonging and intergenerational tension.

This reality also underpins the work of Our Minds Matter, the UK charity I co-founded to deliver culturally grounded mental health education and support in under-served communities. The organisation’s mission emphasises the need to address mental health through the lenses of culture, faith and community – approaches that mainstream services often overlook.

Early education, reducing stigma and building culturally sensitive support are essential for addressing the inequalities faced by communities like Shah’s.

Five years ago, our team produced a community-led documentary exploring psychosis. It highlighted the experiences of South Asian families and the urgent need for culturally coherent support structures. The challenges articulated in the documentary continue to be reflected in both academic research and people’s lived experiences today.

What Bait achieves is not simply representation but illumination. It exposes how psychological vulnerability can be fuelled by cultural dislocation, racialised exclusion, and the impossible expectation to excel while carrying generations of unspoken pressure.

Shah’s experiences – humorous, painful and increasingly fractured – mirror the mental health inequalities faced by British‑Pakistani communities, particularly men navigating contradictory identities and structural disadvantage.

The series invites viewers to see psychosis not as an isolated biomedical event, but as a response to accumulated pressures: family honour, societal scrutiny, cultural misrecognition and stigma that constrains emotional expression.

These pressures interact across biological, psychological and social frameworks, creating conditions in which psychosis risk becomes elevated. The show’s understated portrayal of this trajectory offers a culturally specific, psychologically accurate narrative rarely seen in British television.

In a media landscape where the mental health of British South Asian Muslims is often sensationalised or overlooked, Bait offers an important counternarrative. It shows that the intersections of identity, discrimination and cultural expectation are not abstract ideas but lived experiences that shape psychological wellbeing.

The show’s quiet strength lies in revealing these dynamics without being preachy – inviting audiences and practitioners to better understand how culture, racism and mental health intertwine.

Jolel Miah does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.