Gabriela R.
Photography by Dominick Fini
If you're reading this, you are not responsible for carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.
“Echale ganas” is a phrase I’m sure every Latinx student has heard from their parents, grandparents, or loved ones. It basically translates to “give it all you got” or “give it your all”. As a first generation college student with parents who came to this country with nothing but a beaten down soul and a heart filled with hope and fear, that is exactly what I did. I gave it my all, until one day I simply couldn’t. I could no longer be the diligent hardworking daughter who did everything possible to get into a prestigious four-year university. I could no longer be the daughter who had everything figured out. I could no longer be the daughter who wore a bright smile during the day and made sure everyone around her was proud. Meanwhile, she struggled to fall asleep every night without tears in her eyes. I was tired of carrying the weight on my shoulders that wasn't even mine to begin with. Depression and anxiety were never topics we discussed as a family, one who only knew how to speak of hard work and strength. I found myself comparing my own struggles to those of my parents. I invalidated my own feelings, and believed that what I was going through wasn't half as bad as what my parents suffered through.
How was I supposed to explain to my mother who had already gone through enough pain and trauma for a lifetime that her one and only beloved child simply wanted to give up? How could I possibly explain to my mother, the woman who unintentionally gifted me all her pain and sadness, which I proudly kept secret with a smile on my face, that I no longer could carry her weight along with mine? How could I look my father in the eyes, the same man who goes to work every morning before the sun rises, that his daughter who had always made him so proud (even though she never actually heard him say it) that she was becoming someone he would soon fail to recognize?
I needed help. I knew I did, but I didn’t actually know what helped look like. I knew what “pushing through it” looked like, I knew what praying for guidance looked like. My mother always had told me I was the strongest girl she knew, but during this time of my life I had never felt weaker. I had never felt more angry at the God who I once turned to for comfort because I felt like he had forced me to be so strong even as a little girl who deserved to know peace. Pride and stubbornness were my biggest competitors and I let them win for far too long.
The mental health stigma in Hispanic and Latinx communities is dangerously overlooked. At the University of Virginia Hispanic and Latinx students make up less than 7% of the entire student population which makes it so easy to feel alone and isolated. We fail to talk about the burden of first generation college students that are carrying the weight of not only their dreams but the hopes and dreams of their parents, grandparents, and family who could not make it. We are failing Latinx children and teens and even adults who are still struggling to make sense of the unfortunate cycles of generational trauma while trying to find their own space in this world. The same world their parents are also learning to navigate and make their own.
I’m grateful to say that I was able to get help. I talked to my parents, and although they struggled to understand at first, they were empathetic and supported me. I was grateful to have friends who saw what I was going through and were patient and kind to me even when I would distance myself from them. Therapy was like a breath of fresh air. I am the first person in my family to receive any sort of mental health treatment and that in itself took me a while to be okay with and realize it was not a sign of weakness but a sign of resilience. I wish for nothing more than to give any minoritized college student struggling right now some reassurance with my experience. Although mental health is not something talked about in our community, do not be afraid to be the one to bring up the conversation. Your happiness and experiences are just as important as those of your parents. It is not selfish to prioritize your mental health. Most importantly, you are not weak for seeking help and you should never have to carry more than you can handle.
Gabriela R. (she/her), University of Virginia ‘24
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