Dementia is often treated as a medical problem—a deficit to be managed. But there’s a deeper story that goes beyond symptoms and science.
Our perceptions of dementia are profoundly shaped by our cultural narratives, our language, and the ways we live and relate to one another.
Across cultures, dementia is understood differently, revealing the ways communities view ageing, memory, and identity.
As we look to other cultural contexts, we begin to see dementia not as a decline but as a journey; not as an isolated illness, but as a deeply human experience that brings both beauty and challenge.
In many parts of the world, the language of dementia carries with it harsh connotations. It can imply a “loss of mind,” a brokenness that diminishes not just the person experiencing it, but the family and community around them.
Language has power.
In Japan, for example, the term chiho (meaning idiocy) was used until 2004, when the government changed it to ninchisho, meaning “cognitive disorder”—a gentler term that respects dignity and humanity. Likewise, in China, the term chidai can mean “senile dementia,” but it’s laden with ideas of foolishness; as a result, many families prefer terms that focus on age and wisdom rather than decline. In Spanish-speaking cultures, demencia is often avoided in favour of more compassionate expressions like “problems with memory.”
Each of these shifts signals a global recognition that the words we use matter deeply. They shape not only how we see others but how we care for them. A kinder language invites families and communities to approach dementia with empathy, honouring the person within and recognising that, even as memory shifts, the person remains whole and worthy.
For many Indigenous cultures, memory and ageing are sacred, shared by the community rather than held by individuals.
I am currently working on a project exploring dementia within the Gunadule people in Panama and the African Caribbean community in the UK.
Elders are honoured as keepers of wisdom, carriers of stories that remind the young of who they are, where they come from, and where they are going. Through storytelling, elders pass on a legacy of resilience and hope, grounding their people in a shared history.
Memory loss, then, is not feared or stigmatised among the Gunadule but is seen as a natural evolution of life’s journey. This contrasts with the Western view of dementia as something to be managed or contained.
Instead, the Gunadule’s approach invites us to consider cognitive change as a part of communal life that connects generations, reminding us that memory is more than data stored in a brain—it’s the story of a people held in sacred trust.
In African-Caribbean cultures, dementia care is profoundly relational, steeped in the deep bonds of family and tradition. Food, for example, carries powerful cultural significance, representing resilience, history, and community. It’s more than nourishment; it’s a way of honouring one’s ancestors, embodying cultural pride, and maintaining a connection to home. This becomes even more pronounced in dementia care, where preparing traditional meals becomes a way of reconnecting elders to memories of family, identity, and belonging.
Caring for elders in this context is about much more than managing cognitive decline—it’s about holding the person within a web of relationships that value their life, their history, and their continued importance to the family.
The African-Caribbean approach to dementia reminds us that, even as memory fades, the person remains, embedded in the love and life of the family.
At The Dementia Centre, we are moved by these cultural perspectives and by the conviction that dementia care must go beyond medical interventions. We recognise that compassionate care begins with understanding—a willingness to see each individual as more than their symptoms.
Inspired by global wisdom, we have taken a holistic approach to dementia care that respects each person’s culture, story, and spirit. Through culturally sensitive language, meaningful practices, and a deep respect for personhood, we seek to create an environment where each person feels truly seen.
Drawing on the insights of communities like the Gunadule and African-Caribbean families, we can see the importance of care not just for bodies and minds but for whole persons.
We believe that compassionate care begins with honouring each resident’s unique history and relationships, nurturing an environment where people feel safe, valued, and at home.
The Gunadule’s collective memory, Japan’s kinder language, and the African-Caribbean focus on cultural identity all teach us that dementia is not simply a loss—it is a journey of memory and meaning.
Each person carries a story, and our role is to help preserve and honour that story, regardless of cognitive change. As we move towards a more inclusive, understanding approach, we’re reminded that real care is rooted in love, respect, and a shared commitment to journey alongside those entrusted to us.
Compassion is born of understanding—and understanding is an act of love.