This Hispanic Heritage Month, I’m thinking about the state of mental health in our community. I reflect on my early years and the challenges I faced navigating expectations and culture in my Hispanic family. Growing up, I experienced personal challenges because within our culture, mental health was frequently disregarded and undertreated. This reality meant that to avoid the judgment and misunderstanding, I had to learn to deal with my mental health problems in private. And I know this is a reality that many people who come of age in Hispanic households can relate to.
I felt really confined as a young girl because I didn’t feel like I could tell my family about my mental health struggles. I worried that if I told them I was depressed, they wouldn’t understand and would try to convince me that I wasn’t ill. And when I did the brave thing and spoke up about my mental health, the fears I had were validated. When I finally opened up, my mother dismissed my feelings. She told me that people in our religion and culture don’t get depressed. I was told that it was a sin to have negative feelings about myself because I was God’s creation and that it wasn’t right to criticize his work. It was devastating to hear in such a vulnerable moment.
Fortunately, when I decided to tell my father about what I was feeling, he understood. Having faced similar emotional roadblocks with his own mother, he knew what I was going through. He tried his best to console me and urged me to seek help, whether it was through school counseling or therapy. My father’s support became a crucial source of comfort, but it was still a long road. It took me a very long time to fully accept my mental condition and be honest with myself. I was sick of feeling alone, and I wanted to talk to someone other than my friends about how I was feeling. This difficulty I had in sharing what I was going through with my family, exacerbated by the fear of rejection, highlights a major barrier to mental health support that is tragically common across many underserved communities.
I want to share my story to highlight how important it is to feel safe being open about mental health challenges, particularly within spaces where it hasn’t always been encouraged. Throughout my upbringing in a Hispanic household, I witnessed firsthand how stigma, cultural norms, or the expectation that we need to “be strong” may lead mental health to be disregarded or ignored. This collective silence is a public health crisis that demands immediate attention. You never really know what someone might be going through, and the serious mental health challenges they might be navigating in silence. And no one deserves to go through their mental health journey alone.
We have to overcome these harmful biases and the antiquated norms that keep so many of us silent. By actively challenging this stigma and making discussions about mental health more commonplace, we can create a supportive and empathetic society where people can open up about their difficulties without feeling ashamed. The key takeaway from my journey is that seeking help is an act of strength, not shame. We must do what my father did: actively break the cycle and choose a path different from the one we grew up with. Everyone deserves to be met with acceptance and compassion, rather than judgment, if we are to see real progress for both the present and future generations.
