“Sí Se Puede” and The Cost of Silence.

Holding Complexity: The Micro, Mezzo, and Macro of Silence and Survival

I remember moving to the West Coast from the East Coast, knowing very little about César Chávez. I remember being so excited when I moved to Arizona to learn that there was a state holiday that actually honored Latinos for their labor. It felt so foreign to me. I put Cesar on a pedestal but he quickly fell off of it when I moved to California and learned about his anti-immigrant rhetoric, racist practices, and how his prominence erased the work of Larry Itliong and the struggle of Filipino farm workers - a people with a shared history of colonization and U.S exploitation.

I found hope in Dolores Huerta.

For those who may not know: César Chávez, Larry Itliong, and Dolores Huerta are well known for the farmworkers’ rights movement. The movement began in the 1960s with the goal of securing better wages, improving working conditions, and obtaining legal protections for agricultural laborers in the US. It served primarily Mexican and Filipino Americans who were exploited by US farms, and it successfully unionized workers across the industry. Ironically, César was particularly well known for nonviolent tactics and spiritual practices. I was drawn to this movement — to the organizing strategy, the life stories, and the deep commitment to La Causa.

As a trauma therapist and trafficking specialist, as someone who has heard similar accounts from many women, I was not surprised by Doña Huerta’s disclosure of César Chávez’s sexual assault. It still hit a tender part of my heart. I was devastated by the weight of her secret, and I know all too well how often women stay silent to protect their abuser or preserve shared relationships. She did what so many survivors do: she sacrificed herself out of loyalty to a cause she believed was bigger than herself. Movements are often destabilized when the truth of humanity comes out. When harm is revealed inside liberation spaces, it destabilizes its identity and its history. Just look at the Catholic Church. How many people have left because of the sex abuse scandals? I know I did.

And at the same time, it felt like a punch in the gut for Latinos. Another strike against us. We have an embarrassingly high percentage of Latinos for Trump, and an absurd amount who work for ICE. And now, the face of a powerful movement, one that honors our people, has been struck down. I found myself asking: Why now?

For people with trauma, there is nothing harder than holding complexity. Most see the world as black and white. Good vs Evil. Wrong vs Right. We want to put everything in a nice little box and wrap it with a bow. Our attention gets so fixed on the stark and dramatic that shades of grey fade into the background. Our nervous system wants the story to make sense. One of the most important parts of my work is teaching my clients to live in the grey. To hold two truths. To always remember the “yes, and.”

What does it mean when the space that offers dignity also holds harm? They say “The movement has always been bigger than any one individual.” This plays out in organizing work and the non-profit industrial complex to a fault.

Coercion doesn’t always look like force. It also looks like fraud, intimidation, pressure, manipulation, undue influence, or power dynamics. Dolores was a woman fighting for justice in the 1960s, when women were barely listened to. As a man, César was positioned and willing to be the face of this movement; so much so that he even received credit for her “Sí Se Puede” slogan.

Coercion operates best where there is trust, admiration, or dependency. This is the nature of grooming. It often includes special attention, mentorship and normalization of boundary crossings. We see it with our leaders and we see it with our children; which is why we’ve shifted from teaching kids about “stranger danger” to teaching them to recognize strange behavior. Most often, exploitation and abuse are carried out by those we trust most: community members, leaders, family members, friends. The people we believe in. The people we love. It starts with friendship and care, and over time, survivors sometimes wonder if it was ever truly against their will - because consent isn’t always clearly absent. And when they are certain, as certain as Dolores, the world still doubts them and their truth gets gaslighted.

Grooming sets the stage for coercion. Coercion is how the line gets crossed. It comes in moments of pressure, manipulation or force. It can include emotional leverage, implied consequences, and exploits vulnerability. Women of color are uniquely impacted. They often carry movements, sustain communities and are just expected to endure, and endure, and endure. To keep it together and carry the world on their shoulders. There’s loyalty to our culture, our families, collective survival in the face of adversity over individual harm. On top of it, we carry an immense fear of reinforcing stereotypes or harming our communities. It’s a double bind. If we speak, we risk destabilizing everything we’ve carried. If we stay silent, we continue to absorb the harm. It stops being about what happened and becomes about what it might cost everyone else.

Coercion doesn’t always look like explicit pressure. Dolores stayed silent to protect A MOVEMENT. But when the mission becomes more important than the individual, the silent pressure is about harming the cause and how much is at stake. Silence becomes about survival that is shaped by structural pressure. Not consent.

The same coercive dynamics that operate in relationships scale into organizations, movements, and systems. From the Micro to the Macro, the same pattern is at every level:

From the micro (individual)

• A person harmed by someone they trusted

• Confusion, loyalty, silence

The Mezzo (community/movement)

• Protection of leadership

• Minimization or compartmentalization

  • Survival strategies passed down:

    • Silence

    • Endurance

    • Loyalty at all costs

• “The work is bigger than this”

  • Communities that have had to fight to exist

  • Making protection of the collective feel essential

The Macro (systems)

• Patriarchy

  • Normalization of:

    • Male leadership dominance

    • Access to women’s labor, bodies, and emotional support

• Capitalism and institutions that:

  • reward productivity over wellbeing

  • rely on sacrifice

  • absorb harm to maintain legitimacy

When patriarchy meets survival-based communities, harm can be minimized in the name of continuity.

The only way around this frame is to learn to hold complexity. It’s important for us to remember that good can coexist with harm, and that profound impact does not grant immunity from accountability. Cesar Chavez was the face of a movemen. He was a powerful advocate, strategic organizer, and had personal failings that caused real suffering. He benefited from the labor, loyalty and presence of people like Dolores and Lary Itlong. Exploitation doesn’t erase impact. But impact can’t erase exploitation. True fidelity to La Causa demands that we hold both truths simultaneously. We do not honor history by sanitizing it. We honor the movement by acknowledging the full humanity, and thus the full spectrum of behaviors, of all involved, especially the survivors who carry its hidden costs. The power of “Sí Se Puede” was never lodged in one leader; it lives in the enduring collective will of the people, the laborers, and the silenced who make the work possible. Si se puede.

What This Series Is About

This is part of Why We Stay, Why We Leave - and How We Heal; a blog series about coercion, trauma, and liberation.

Each post explores a different way control hides in plain sight and how healing requires us to name what was taken in the name of care.

If you have ever sacrificed your truth for a cause, you are not alone.
If you have ever felt pressure to stay silent to protect something bigger than yourself, your exhaustion is an act of self-preservation.
And if you are tired of carrying the weight of a movement on your shoulders, that burden is trying to protect you.

Gentle Questions for This Month

Instead of asking, “Why did I stay silent?”
Try asking:

• “Who was the loyalty to?”

• “What cost was I asked to absorb for the sake of the collective?”

Instead of asking, “How can I trust the movement now?”
Try asking:

• "How can we honor the impact of the movement without sanitizing the harm caused by its leader?"

• “If the power was always in the people (Sí Se Puede), how do we redirect our fidelity away from charismatic individuals and toward the collective goal?”

• “How do we create movements where integrity and the safety of individuals are prioritized over institutional preservation?”

Trauma Keeps Score in the Family Line: Why January habits, resolutions, and relapses often come from what our families survived

January arrives with promises.

New year.

New habits.

New discipline.

New rules.

We’re told this is the moment to finally change: eat better, drink less, date differently, work harder, be more focused, get our lives together.

But for many people, January doesn’t feel fresh.

It feels reactive.

And that’s not because something is wrong with you.

It’s because December just activated patterns that didn’t start with you

It Starts When You Go Home

You go to your mom’s house for Christmas.

A tía comments on your weight.

Someone asks when you’re getting married or having kids.

A cousin jokes about how much you drink.

A relative reminds you how “disciplined” you used to be.

It’s subtle.

It’s familiar.

It’s framed as concern, humor, or love.

But your body notices.

You come home and suddenly January makes sense.

You go on a diet.

You cut carbs.

You revamp your dating apps and turn dating into a numbers game.

You decide to drink less…or not at all.

You start tracking everything.

From the outside, it can look like motivation.

From the inside, it’s often regulation

January Is About Choice and Context

January often gets framed as a test of willpower.

And sometimes, it is about effort. People make thoughtful choices. They drink less because alcohol isn’t serving them. They pay closer attention to food because their bodies need care. They try new routines because something genuinely feels off.

That matters.

But willpower doesn’t exist in a vacuum.

What shows up in January is often shaped by what our bodies learned helped us stay regulated, accepted, or safe. Especially within our families. The pull toward control, restriction, structure, or “doing better” is rarely random. It’s often connected to long-standing messages about worth, belonging, and self-discipline.

Coping Skills Aren’t Moral Failures or Superpowers

Coping strategies don’t mean you’re weak.

They also don’t mean you’re exceptional.

They’re just strategies.

Food, alcohol, productivity, and structure can all serve real purposes:

• Helping the body settle

• Reducing anxiety

• Creating predictability

• Maintaining connection

• Avoiding conflict

Many people genuinely feel better drinking less or eating more intentionally.

Many also find themselves slipping into rigidity, shame, or self-surveillance.

Both can be true.

The question isn’t whether you have discipline.

It’s what a given strategy is helping you manage.

Where Inheritance Comes In

Those strategies don’t appear out of nowhere.

Families shaped by colonization, migration, scarcity, shame, or punishment-based parenting often pass down messages like:

• Control yourself

• Don’t need too much

• Don’t draw attention

• Don’t waste

• Don’t disappoint

These messages don’t disappear in adulthood.

They show up in how we relate to food, alcohol, work, money, and rest.

January simply brings them into sharper focus.

How Trauma Gets Reenacted in Adult Life

Intergenerational trauma doesn’t just live in memory.

It lives in expectations.

Who you’re allowed to be.

What love costs.

How much space you can take.

Whether rest is safe.

Whether you’re allowed to disappoint anyone.

January often becomes a reenactment:

• Fixing yourself so you’re acceptable

• Disciplining your body so it behaves

• Controlling your desires so no one judges you

• Proving you can do better this year

Not because you want punishment -  but because punishment was familiar.

Codependency, Interdependence, and the Myth of “Doing It Alone”

Many families shaped by trauma teach codependency:

• Your worth comes from meeting others’ needs

• Love requires sacrifice

• Boundaries feel like betrayal

At the same time, capitalism pushes hyper-independence:

• Fix yourself

• Optimize yourself

• Don’t need anyone

• Make your healing productive

True interdependence (mutual support without debt, shame, or control) is rare.

When people don’t have access to healthy interdependence, they look for substitutes:

• Substances

• Food

• Attention

• Validation

• Control

• Productivity

Support becomes transactional.

Care becomes conditional.

A Different Way to Think About January

What if January wasn’t about becoming someone new?

What if it was about understanding who you had to become to survive?

Instead of asking:

“How do I stop this habit?”

You might ask:

• “What has this habit been protecting me from?”

• “What does my body associate with safety?”

• “What did my family need from me?”

• “What kind of support would actually help now?”

These questions don’t demand instant change.

They create conditions for it.

Why This Matters for Healing

Healing doesn’t start with discipline.

It starts with context.

When people have language for the patterns they inherited (not ones they “failed” to break) shame loosens its grip.

And when shame loosens, change becomes possible

Looking Ahead

This post is about where patterns come from.

Next, this series will look more closely at how attachment wounds shape what feels familiar in our relationships…and why some dynamics feel like love even when they hurt.

For now, gentleness matters.

Your coping strategies were not mistakes.

They were solutions.

And survival is where healing begins.

The December Pull: Why We Overspend, Overcommit, and Seek Belonging During the Holidays

It’s December 10th.

You’ve already spent more than you planned. You’ve said yes to another holiday gathering even though you’re exhausted. You’re scrolling past images of perfect trees, coordinated outfits, and joyful family moments, and something in you feels behind.

What’s driving this isn’t a lack of discipline or willpower.
It’s a powerful mix of attachment needs, inherited family expectations, and the targeted messages of holiday culture.

December doesn’t just bring celebrations. It activates our desire to belong, to be seen as good or generous, to meet expectations, and to avoid disappointing the people we care about. When those needs come online, our choices are shaped by more than intention alone.

How Attachment and Family Systems Shape the Season

Attachment forms early. It’s not about blame or diagnosis. It’s about how closeness, safety, approval, and belonging were experienced in our families.

For some people, the holidays feel relatively spacious.

When the Holidays Feel Spacious

• relationships feel secure

• traditions feel flexible

• boundaries are respected

• love doesn’t need to be earned

• expectations are clear or minimal

For others, December brings a familiar kind of pressure.

When Old Family Systems Are Activated

• pressure to perform gratitude

• pressure to keep the peace

• pressure to host, give, or overextend

• pressure to meet unspoken expectations

• pressure to hold the family together

Even adults with their own homes, careers, and families often slip back into familiar roles: the responsible one, the giver, the organizer, the one who smooths tension or makes things “nice.”

This isn’t a personal failure.
It’s attachment meeting tradition.

Unmet Needs: When Emotional and Material Realities Collide

The holidays don’t just stir emotions. They also highlight material realities.

Rising costs.
Unequal access to resources.
The desire to give children what we didn’t have.
The fear of falling behind.

For many families (especially immigrant families and communities shaped by colonialism and capitalism) December has long meant stretching, sacrificing, and doing more with less. Survival and dignity often depended on appearing “okay,” even when resources were thin.

Emotional and material needs become tightly linked:

• wanting children to feel special

• wanting parents to feel proud

• wanting the holiday to feel meaningful

• wanting to look like we’re doing okay

These aren’t shallow wants. They’re rooted in care, history, and survival.

The Marketing Mirror: Why Holiday Ads Tap Our Need to Belong

Holiday marketing doesn’t just sell products. It reflects our longings back to us.

It quietly suggests:

• this is what good parents do

• this is how love is shown

• this is how you keep up

• this is how you belong

These messages land not because we’re easily influenced, but because they echo needs we already carry. December is when people are most emotionally open, reflective, and sensitive to comparison. Marketing is designed around that reality.

Often, what we’re buying isn’t the item itself, but the feeling we hope it will create: reassurance, closeness, pride, or relief.

Aspirations and Isolation: Why Influencers Offer Connection

This is also why influencers have such pull during the holidays.

They don’t just offer recommendations. They offer identity, validation, and a sense of community. When family dynamics feel complicated or traditions feel heavy, it makes sense to look elsewhere for connection.

Curated homes, routines, and lifestyles offer a temporary sense of belonging. Wanting that connection isn’t a flaw. It’s attachment doing what attachment does.

The Scarcity Trap: Why “Opportunity” Groups Peak in December

December is also peak season for MLMs and similar “opportunity” spaces.

They tend to show up when people are:

• financially stretched

• emotionally tired

• craving stability

• longing for hope or a fresh start

They rarely lead with numbers. They lead with belonging, encouragement, and identity.

“You’re not just joining a business.”
“You’re joining a family.”

I understand the pull of this personally.

In my early twenties, I was serving as an AmeriCorps VISTA member and had taken what felt like a vow of poverty. At the time, it felt principled. I was trying to escape the chaos of my life and the bar industry and build a life rooted in service and meaning. In hindsight, it was also a path far more accessible to people with financial safety nets than I had.

That holiday season, I went home broke and idealistic, and a childhood friend tried to recruit me into Primerica. I was angry. I recognized it as a pyramid scheme, and I remembered how, years earlier, I had almost joined Cutco when I was desperate for money.

I wasn’t going to do that again.

Instead of confronting him directly, I leaned hard into my service identity. I played a kind of secular Mother Teresa, explaining that I couldn’t possibly join because I was committed to a life of poverty and selfless service.

It was half resistance, half performance.

Looking back now, I can see the irony. The MLM pitch and my own devotion to sacrifice were two sides of the same coin. Both offered meaning. Both offered belonging. Both framed sacrifice as a virtue.

That realization came later. At the time, I was just trying to survive December with my values intact.

How Holiday Pressure Strains Family Dynamics

All of this plays out inside family systems.

Gift-giving becomes symbolic.
Spending becomes emotional.
Boundaries blur.
Old conflicts resurface.

Many people overspend or overgive not because they want to, but because they’re trying to preserve harmony, prove love, or avoid guilt.

December quietly asks many of us the same question:

“Am I doing enough?”

A Gentler Way to Be With This Season: Returning to Yourself

The goal isn’t to eliminate the pull of December, but to soften its grip. Awareness creates space.

The next time you feel the pressure rising, you might gently pause and ask yourself:

• What feeling am I hoping this will give me?

• Whose expectations am I responding to?

• Is this about connection, obligation, or both?

• Would I choose this if there were less pressure?

Answering honestly isn’t a judgment.
It’s an act of self-loyalty.

Looking Ahead

December makes visible what’s often operating quietly all year: the ways our choices are shaped by attachment, family systems, cultural expectations, and material realities.

Next month, this series will continue by looking more closely at family loyalty, emotional roles, and why the holidays activate patterns many of us thought we had outgrown. The very patterns many of us didn’t choose — but learned.

For now, gentleness matters.

Some of the needs showing up this month are old.
Some are deeply understandable.
And none of them make you weak.

They make you human.

What We’re Told, What We Believe, and What We Choose

Introducing My New Blog Series

When I was about twenty-two, a childhood friend once asked me:

“Do you believe in free will?”

“Of course,” I said.

At the time, I was newly out from under strict religious parents and doing whatever I wanted, even when the consequences were messy. I believed every choice was mine.

She shook her head.

“There is no such thing. We are conditioned […] Well, I have a master’s. I know.”” she said, as if the degree had granted her ownership of truth.

Her comment hit a tender spot. It touched my shame about not having a degree yet, and it carried the implication that she understood something I didn’t. Here is what I understand now:

She was right about free will being shaped by conditioning.
She was wrong about me being unaware of it.

Even then, I already sensed that our choices were shaped by the environments we grew up in. I had watched conditioning play out in our community, in our church, and in our families. Sometimes I felt like I was the only one who noticed. What I did not have yet was the language or confidence to describe what I saw.

Now I do have a master’s, and years of experience with people across many systems. All of it confirmed what I knew intuitively:

We do not only inherit trauma. We inherit stories about who we are allowed to be.

Stories about what we owe, when to stay quiet, how we should show gratitude, and what we must sacrifice to keep the peace. Stories about identity, loyalty, limits, and possibility. These private stories often mirror the larger cultural stories we are taught.

These inherited stories don’t just show up on families. They show up nationally, too. Which brings me to Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is one of the clearest examples of this kind of inherited narrative.

Most of us grew up with the school-friendly version: Pilgrims and Native Americans sharing a peaceful meal, unity, gratitude, and a simple origin story.

The real history is far more painful.
Yet the softened version is the one repeated, celebrated, and taught to children until it becomes unquestioned.

This is how conditioning works.
Quiet.
Familiar.
Comfortable enough that we do not pause to examine it.

The stories we inherit in families, culture, religion, politics, and even therapy function in a very similar way.

Why I am Writing This Series

In every setting I have worked in, including therapy, anti-trafficking work, juvenile justice, immigrant communities, spiritual trauma, child welfare, and national trainings, people name the same feelings again and again:

“I feel trapped.”
“I do not know how to leave.”
“I keep choosing the same thing.”
“I feel guilty taking care of myself.”
“I do not know whose expectations I am living for.”

People often believe they are making fully free choices.
In reality, they are responding to the stories they were handed long before they could understand them.

This series is about those stories.
The ones we grow up with.
The ones we carry.
The ones we question.
The ones we eventually outgrow.

Next Month’s Post

In December, I will be exploring one of the loudest and most universal forms of modern conditioning: holiday consumer culture, advertisements, influencers, and MLMs.

These systems shape our decisions in ways that feel personal but are actually designed.

As we move through this holiday season, I hope you approach your inherited stories with gentleness.

Some of them protected you.
Some of them restricted you.
And some of them are finally ready to be rewritten.

This series is my way of walking through that process with you.

Minimization as a Defense Mechanism: The Role of Cultural Resilience and Laughter in Health

In the realm of mental health and self-discovery, the concept of minimization as a defense mechanism holds a significant place. It serves as a coping strategy to deal with overwhelming emotions, traumas, and difficulties by downplaying their magnitude or impact on our lives. However, if we lean too deep into minimization we risk bypassing the experience of authentic emotion. This defense mechanism can have intricate relationships with our healing journey. How do we hold cultural resilience and laughter, acting as protective factors in our overall well-being; while honoring our truest, life shaping experiences, for the validity of what they are and what they brought up for us?

Personal Story: Finding Validation in the Journey of Therapy - After a Lifetime of Minimizing

On a personal note, my journey in therapy has been a quest for validation. I often find myself questioning the validity of my grievances, wondering if I am just being "dramatic" or exaggerating my struggles. As an adult, I've shared true stories of hardship with a touch of humor, only to be met with shocked expressions, particularly from individuals of a different cultural background. This reaction has always gotten under my skin.


Growing up, I come from a family that embodies resilience in the face of adversity. I was taught that life is never easy, we should always be grateful for what we have (in comparison to those with less), and we learned to navigate its challenges with laughter as our steadfast companion. In our culture, we believe that not everything needs to be approached with intense seriousness; sometimes, you have to laugh to lighten the burden of reality. Which is great!

Laughter can help with adversity by providing a temporary escape from stress, boosting mood, increasing resilience and fostering a sense of connection to others. It can serve as a coping mechanism, helping individuals to find moments of joy and levity even in difficult situations; thereby improving their overall emotional wel- being and ability to navigate challenges.

While laughter and humor can provide temporary relief and help individuals cope with adversity, it’s important to acknowledge that they are not a substitute for addressing underlying pain or serious issues. We need to feel so that we can heal.

Unpacking Minimization: Unveiling the Root Cause

Over time, I have come to a profound realization: I have been minimizing real and profound struggles in my life. But why? This introspective journey has led me to understand that my tendency to downplay the gravity of my experiences stems from a deep-seated need to protect myself from the overwhelming emotions that accompany them. By making light of difficult situations, I inadvertently shield myself from confronting their true impact on my well-being.

Cultural Influences on Minimization

The cultural lens through which we perceive and navigate the world plays a pivotal role in shaping our defense mechanisms. In some cultural contexts, there exists a collective belief in the power of resilience and laughter as tools for survival. However, this cultural resilience can sometimes manifest as minimization, leading individuals to overlook the gravity of their struggles in an effort to maintain a sense of control and composure. This hyper-independent super power is by design. It helps us fall into place.

The truth is:

We CAN and we SHOULD laugh, it’s great medicine for our souls. Though, not at the expense of FEELING every wound, gift, loss, doubt. Our TRUTH matters. Every experience should be felt and each emotion should move through you.

Embracing Vulnerability and Seeking Authenticity

As I continue to unravel the complexities of minimization in my own life, I am learning to embrace vulnerability and seek authenticity in my experiences. It is essential to recognize that acknowledging the true weight of our struggles does not diminish our strength; rather, it empowers us to face our challenges with courage and honesty.

The interplay between minimization as a defense mechanism, cultural resilience, and the healing power of laughter is a complex and multifaceted one. By delving into the root causes of our coping strategies and embracing vulnerability, we pave the way for genuine self-discovery and emotional growth. Remember, it is okay to confront the depth of your emotions and experiences – for it is in this raw authenticity that true healing and resilience can flourish.

Decolonizing Mental Health: Breaking the Chains of Perfectionism in Parenting

In today's fast-paced, achievement-oriented society, parents often find themselves under immense pressure to be the perfect parent. We strive to limit screen time, be actively involved in our children's lives, work full time, and ensure they excel in every aspect of their lives. However, in my journey towards decolonized mental health, I have come to the realization that this pursuit of perfectionism is detrimental to both my well-being and that of my children. Instead of performing parenthood through unrealistic standards, I’ve shifted my focus toward raising grounded, emotionally aware critical thinkers and breaking the generational patterns that keep us stuck.

1) Embracing Imperfection:

As parents, we are bombarded with messages that suggest we should constantly strive for perfection. We are made to believe that our children's success and happiness depend on us being the ideal parent. However, this unattainable standard only leads to immense stress and anxiety, both for ourselves and our children. It is crucial to recognize that perfectionism is a colonial construct, rooted in oppressive systems that prioritize conformity and productivity. When we name perfectionism as a tool of social control, not a personal failing, we are better able to release it and reclaim our humanity.

2) Minimizing Anxiety:
(I know. It’s easier said than done.)

In our quest for perfection, we often inadvertently pass on our anxieties to our children. Children are perceptive beings who absorb the stress and pressure around them. By constantly pushing them to excel in every area of their lives, we unintentionally contribute to their anxiety and feelings of inadequacy. Recognizing this, I have chosen to prioritize my own mental health and that of my children by creating a nurturing environment that encourages self-expression, exploration, and personal growth rather than rigid achievement. Regulation in the home begins with the adults—we become the nervous system our children borrow.

3) Redefining Success:

Society often measures success through academic achievements, sports prowess, artistic talent, and other external markers. However, I've learned that true success lies in raising critical thinkers who challenge societal norms and systems. In a world shaped by inequity, teaching children to question, analyze, and make meaning is more protective than any resume of accomplishments .By nurturing their curiosity, encouraging independent thought, and fostering a love for learning, we can empower our children to question and dismantle the flawed systems that perpetuate inequality.

4) Grace over Perfection:

One of the key aspects of decolonized mental health is allowing ourselves and our children grace. We need to recognize that we are products of generations of colonization, and unlearning deeply embedded beliefs and patterns takes time and patience. Grace allows room for repair, humanity, and rest. Things perfectionism never offers. Instead of stressing over every little detail, I have chosen to prioritize self-compassion and allow room for mistakes and growth and emotional authenticity

5) Food and Snacks- A Balanced Approach:

Another area where the pressure to be a perfect parent can manifest is in the realm of food and snacks. We are bombarded with messages about the importance of healthy eating, organic foods, and the dangers of processed snacks. While it is essential to provide our children with nourishing meals, it is equally important not to become consumed by food-related anxieties. Instead of obsessing over every ingredient or feeling guilty about the occasional indulgence, I have learned to adopt a balanced approach. By providing a variety of nutritious options while also allowing treats ( no Switch Witch, here!), I am teaching my children the importance of listening to their bodies and cultivating a healthy relationship with food.

6) Breaking Generational Patterns:

Decolonizing mental health involves recognizing and breaking free from generational patterns that have been passed down to us. These patterns can include us leaning into some of our less preferred (or socially approved) coping mechanisms, “toxic“ behaviors, and limiting beliefs. By prioritizing our mental well-being and consciously choosing to challenge these patterns, we can create a healthier and more supportive environment for ourselves and our children. Breaking free from these patterns is not only liberating for us but also paves the way for future generations to thrive and embrace their true selves.

7) Supporting Critical Thinking:

Rather than pushing our children to excel in every aspect of their lives, we can prioritize their development as critical thinkers. This means encouraging them to question norms, examine power, and think independently. Critical thinking is not defiance—it’s an act of liberation. By fostering curiosity and open dialogue, we empower our children to participate in building a more equitable and just world.

Decolonizing mental health in the context of parenting requires us to let go of the pressure to be perfect and instead prioritize our well-being and that of our children. By embracing imperfection, minimizing anxiety, redefining success, allowing grace, adopting a balanced approach to food, breaking generational patterns, and nurturing critical thinking, we create a more empowering environment for the next generation. Parenting becomes not a performance, but a practice; one rooted in liberation, humanity, and wholeness.