My Dad Going To Therapy Changed How I See Latino Masculinity

Growing up, we see our dads as strong, heroic figures, and I was no exception. My dad was always working, always providing, always moving—doing whatever it took to keep food on the table. I only saw him maybe once a week. He worked mornings and nights at two different jobs. I missed him, but I also knew I was supposed to be grateful, and I was. Even as a kid, I understood the sacrifice.

My dad wasn’t the type to suffer in silence, exactly. Instead, he carried his pain through humor. He cracked jokes, kept things light, made people laugh, never bringing the mood down even when something was heavy on him. Like so many Latino men, he embodied the art of aguantando—to endure and be strong for everyone else. I learned early on that strength, especially for men, meant hiding your emotions and for a long time, I confused that silence for love. That was just the way things were.

So when my dad casually mentioned one day that he had started seeing a therapist, I was stunned.

As someone who had been in therapy for quite a few years, I briefly recommended therapy to my dad, especially as he navigated a ton of personal challenges with a recent divorce and life shifts. The decision, however, came entirely from him and his desire to heal.

In our community, therapy still carries a lot of stigma, especially for older Latino men. It’s seen as unnecessary, indulgent, or more commonly, a sign of weakness. I’ve seen how that stigma can keep our fathers, uncles, and brothers trapped in unspoken pain. But watching my dad break that mold in his 40s? It opened up something in me. I realized how much generational trauma gets passed down not just through actions, but through what’s left unsaid.

Over time, I noticed the subtle shifts.

My dad started setting boundaries. He said “no” more often and was able to justify those nos intelligently. He spoke up when he felt disrespected or when he felt conversations weren’t useful. He asked how I was doing and really listened. He started naming feelings, regrets, and hopes for himself. We started having really deep conversations about emotions, things that happened to us, and unpacking those. Suddenly, I saw my dad as a real person who was beyond just a provider; he truly became my best friend.

This shift in him permitted me to reimagine what masculinity could look like. What fatherhood could look like. What healing, even later in life, could make possible for families and the ties that bind within them. How men, when healed, make spaces truly safer and enable others around them to fully relax without judgment or a show.

It also made me think about access. About how rare it is for Latino men, especially older ones, to have space for this kind of growth. Between language barriers, affordability, and cultural norms, therapy often feels out of reach or off limits. But what my dad showed me is that change doesn’t have to come with a dramatic announcement or a complete undoing of who we’ve been. Sometimes, it starts with one small, brave decision, and ripples out.

My dad going to therapy didn’t just change him. It changed how I see him.

It changed how I see myself. And it changed how I think about the kind of future I want to build: for my family, for my community, and for the next generation of Latino men who deserve more than silence or hiding their feelings to fit the mold.

If you or someone you love is thinking about therapy, or even just starting to wonder what healing could look like, know that it’s never too late. Strength doesn’t mean going it alone.

Here are some mental health resources created with our community in mind:

• Therapy for Latinx – A national directory of Latinx therapists and culturally affirming providers. therapyforlatinx.com
  
• Latinx Therapy – Podcast, resources, and therapist directory focused on breaking the stigma in Latinx communities. latinxtherapy.com
  
• NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) – Offers support groups and education, including Spanish-language resources. nami.org
  
• Open Path Collective – Affordable sliding-scale therapy for those without insurance. openpathcollective.org
  

Healing is hard, but it’s also possible. And most of the time, it starts with one brave step to raise your hand and get help.