Growing Up Mexican American: The Bicultural Experience So Many Have An Opinion About… so here’s one more.

For the sake of this post, I’m speaking from my own cultural background. I use the term Latina to also include others with similar experiences who may identify as something other than Mexican American.

“No, you’re 2nd gen.”
“Well, where was your mom born? What about your dad?” Ughh

Growing up, my identity felt like one big word problem. But one thing I always understood, even as a kid, was how much I loved being Mexican American. I didn’t understand all the complexities yet, but I felt it, especially when I watched Selena on repeat on a VHS tape so worn out it probably had flashbacks of its own. “Anything for Salinas!” “Busti-que la… es un bra!” All of those classic lines still make me smile. But there’s one line that has followed me into adulthood, therapy sessions, political climates, identity crises, and everything in between:

“You have to be more Mexican than the Mexicans and more American than the Americans.”

Back then, I didn’t think much of it. Now? Those words feel like they were written as a thesis about bicultural life … especially for the mujeres.

Because being Mexican American is beautiful… but it is confusing. And as I’ve gotten older, moved away from my hometown (calm down I know it’s only 150 miles but you’d be surprised how different it is), become a clinician, and worked mostly with bicultural women, I’ve realized I’m not alone in this confusion.

We grow up carrying two cultures like two giant tote bags. Both important, both heavy, and both filled with things we didn’t entirely choose but can’t imagine living without.

There are certain values that were instilled in me: Loyalty, hard work, family first, respect, tradition. And seeing how those values show up in other mujeres I work with reminds me how deeply rooted they are. But there’s another side to it. The side where you’re encouraged to dream big but not too big. Be educated, but not intimidating. Be confident, but not “creída.” Be independent, but “no te mandas tú sola.”

It's like walking a tightrope where every step is evaluated through two different cultural perspectives that rarely agree.

The comments we hear growing up stick to us like Velcro:
“Pregúntale a tu papá.”
“No te va a querer nadie con esa actitud.”
“Ya te crees mucho.”

That last one? Yeah. That one can sit heavy in your chest for years.

And before anyone tries to twist my words, I’m not here to bash our culture. I love being Mexican American. I love our humor (we can definitely be assh*les- but thats for another post), our resilience, our handle-it-even-if-you’re-falling-apart energy (consider this your reminder to check on your people). I love the way my community shows up, even with limited resources (porque donde come uno, comen dos), and the pride we carry in our roots.  But loving something deeply doesn’t mean you ignore its contradictions.

What many people don’t realize is how much this cultural paradox affects mental health. The guilt, the pressure, the fear of disappointing your family, the constant code-switching, the quiet identity crisis you learn to mask because… well, everyone expects you to just handle it. You become responsible at a young age, hyper-independent as a teenager, and emotionally exhausted as an adult and people call it “strength.”

And maybe it is strength. But it comes at a cost, often burnout, imposter syndrome, and/or both.

Trying to exist in two worlds at once means you’re always adjusting. It’s either your tone, your opinions, your language, your appearance, your confidence but it often feels endless. You’re constantly reading the room and deciding which parts of yourself are allowed out. You want to honor your culture and make your family proud, but you also want freedom, and boundaries, and maybe a life that looks nothing like the one your parents imagined for you.

And that’s where the shame creeps in.
The question no one wants to say out loud:
“Am I betraying my culture by wanting something different?”

But here’s what I’ve learned … personally and as a therapist:

You are not betraying anyone by healing.
You are not less Mexicana or Latina because you choose rest or boundaries or ambition.
You are not dishonoring your culture by refusing to carry emotional burdens alone.

And you certainly don’t need to be “more Mexican” or “more American” to belong. That’s the trap we were handed. A myth we didn’t choose but absorbed anyway.

The truth is simple:
You don’t have to choose between being Latina and being yourself.
You don’t have to split yourself in half to fit in.
Bicultural identity isn’t a problem to solve … it’s a story to shape.

I am proud of where I come from.
I am proud of the women in my family.
I am proud of the next generation who’s questioning everything with courage we didn’t always have.

And I am proud of every Latina who is out there trying to navigate healing, identity, guilt, culture, ambition, boundaries, and family expectations, sometimes all in the same day.

If you’re figuring it out too, just know this:
You’re not confused … you’re layered.
You’re not disloyal … you’re evolving.
You’re not “too much” … you’re a whole self in two cultures that taught you to shrink.

And you don’t owe anyone proof that you belong in either world.
You already do.