How to Discuss Mental Health With Your Latinx Family

When Dior Vargas first opened up to her family about feeling depressed, she was told to toughen up. Life, they explained, was like a grim movie cast with cruel villains. To survive, she'd have to be strong, which they interpreted as emotionless. For a while, she tried following their advice. She internalized the idea that pain was a sign of weakness and believed tears were reserved for pendejas. The problem: her desolation was worsening.

"I don't think their response came from a mean place. They were thinking of their own struggles, what they had gone through, and they didn't want that to happen to me. But while they had good intentions, the impact was the opposite," Vargas told POPSUGAR.

For decades, misconceptions around mental health and therapy have discouraged many in the Latinx community from sharing their internal conflicts or asking for support. According to Mental Health America (MHA), about 8.9 million Latinxs in the US have a diagnosable mental illness. However, data from the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) shows that only 34 percent of Hispanic/Latinx adults with mental illness receive treatment each year, compared to the US average of 45 percent. The COVID-19 pandemic has compounded the problem. A Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) survey conducted during the pandemic found that 40 percent of Latinx adults reported symptoms of depression, while substance use and suicidal ideation among the population increased.

In recent years, millennials living with mental illnesses have been publicly opening up about their mental health and treatment in order to destigmatize conversations on emotional well-being. Vargas, a nationally recognized mental health advocate, has been a key voice in the movement. Through The People of Color & Mental Illness Photo Project, which helped widen representation of mental illness among BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and people of color) in the media, and The Color of My Mind, a book based on the project, the New York-based Ecuadorian Puerto Rican activist inspired countless people, especially Latinxs, to drop the shame, find support, and talk about their mental health. She wasn't alone. A rise in mental health advocates and therapy influencers has spread mental health awareness across social and mainstream media. As a result, millennials (35 percent), nicknamed "the therapy generation," and Gen Z (37 percent) are more likely to receive treatment and go to therapy than Gen Xers (26 percent) and Baby Boomers (22 percent).

While stigma is waning among young Latinxs and digital spaces like Latinx Therapy and Therapy for Latinx have empowered many in the community to openly talk about mental health, many still find it difficult to have these conversations with their families.

"The challenge is that we're talking about a generation that values, is interested in, and is curious about mental health and previous generations that may not have had the same experience," Joseida "Josie" Rosario, a New York-based Dominican American licensed therapist, told POPSUGAR.

According to Rosario, young people attempting to introduce conversations on mental health, trauma, therapy, or medication to their older relatives should first understand that the education they have around these topics is a privilege that their loved ones likely don't share. While US-based Latinxs in their 20s and 30s might have grown up in a culture that provided them with access to destigmatizing information, their elders may have either lacked media around mental health or might only point to TV shows or films where therapists observed white people on psychoanalytic couches. As a result, they often lack the language or understanding of mental health to have on-the-spot, productive conversations.

Even more, Rosario, who practices systemic-relational therapy, stresses that it's critical to consider the context when an older relative resists such discussions. For example, the priorities of a newly arrived, low-income migrant are different from those of a second- or third-generation Latinx person. For the former, survival is key. In some cases, showing any kind of vulnerability or weakness, at say a racist factory job, could have been a threat to their livelihood and survival. In contrast, for a young person today navigating academic or professional spaces their ancestors didn't (and in some cases couldn't), speaking out about institutional inequity or asking for needed support is how they thrive.

"The context is more complex; it's more nuanced. It's not that later generations have to deal with more or less than the earlier generations, because it's not about comparing. It's just different," Rosario said. "By adopting their 'I can figure this out on my own' mentality, our mental health suffers, and we also perpetuate a behavior that worked for one generation but is not going to work for another one."

According to Nicole Serrano, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Rancho Cucamonga, CA, this context also allows young people to understand why their families might be defensive when the conversation of mental health or therapy is broached. It's an experience the Mexican American often hears from her clients and has also personally encountered. Years ago, when Serrano encouraged her late grandmother to see a therapist, the elder rejected the invitation and retorted that she wasn't a "loca like you." Like the advice of Vargas's family, the words weren't meant to sting — though they did. Many times, these harsh rejoinders stem from a relative's own unprocessed traumas; knowing this doesn't justify the remark, but it does provide helpful context. While Vargas's family's guidance spoke to a generation's struggle for survival, Serrano's grandmother's defensiveness revealed a fear of familial failure.

"If they acknowledge that there's something going on, or maybe there's something that they struggled with, or that generationally [this] has been happening, does that mean they are saying they did something wrong or they weren't good enough? Does that mean they didn't do enough for you? If so, what does that say about them, when everything their culture has taught them has been about surviving and sacrificing for you?" Serrano said.

Breaking through barriers of defensiveness, misconceptions, and shame is difficult, but both Rosario and Serrano agree that it is possible. Before starting these conversations with loved ones, they urge people to be patient and manage expectations. Just because you're prepared to dive into tough, emotionally charged discussions doesn't mean those around you will be. Even more, it's unlikely for someone to immediately recognize and apologize for all the pain they might have caused. Change, growth, and healing take time. Sometimes, a better way to introduce the conversation is through media and accessible information that feels less personal to them. Films like Inside Out, bilingual podcasts like Latinx Therapy, and articles or videos about mental health published by news media that they trust, like Univision or Telemundo, are great places to start. By providing them with information that is digestible and nonoffensive, or openly speaking about and practicing wellness, Rosario and Serrano both believe you can plant seeds that may (or may not) sprout on their own.

"It's not your responsibility to keep that growing or to water that, but sometimes just living your life authentically makes a world of difference," Serrano added.

Nearly two decades after Vargas was shut down by her loved ones while trying to start a conversation about her depression, her mental health journey and advocacy helped destigmatize mental illness, treatment, and emotional expression in her family. Some close relatives are currently in therapy, while others have adopted spiritual and community-based wellness practices. Overall, mental health is a topic that's now talked about openly and compassionately. "It's a long process, and you won't resolve everything in one conversation. But being a visual representation of how therapy and medication made me healthier helped [them] understand," she said.