If you’ve seen the movie Encanto, you’ve witnessed a powerful reflection of what generational trauma can look like in Latine families. In the story, the family knows something is wrong with Casita—things are breaking, shifting—but no one wants to talk about it. No one, except Mirabel. She’s the only one who notices the cracks in the walls and the flickering candle holding their magic together.
As Mirabel tries to hold everything together, she discovers that beneath their magical gifts, her family members are carrying heavy struggles of their own. Isabela, señorita perfecta, can’t do anything wrong. She goes so far as to agree to marry someone she doesn’t love for the sake of the family. Luisa has to be strong and hold everything together to support everyone, and she isn’t able to talk about her hardship because she’s supposed to be strong. The message she has received is rest is not meant for her. Tía Pepa can’t process her emotions, so every time she feels something and a cloud appears, she has to push it away instead of fully experiencing what is happening. Bruno sees things the family doesn’t like or doesn’t want to talk about, and because of it, he ends up being the black sheep and leaves—or so we think. In reality, he loves his family so much that he stays close, hidden where no one can see him.
Eventually, Mirabel learns why Abuela is so determined to protect the magic: years ago, Abuela watched the love of her life die in front of her. She sacrificed her own healing to raise her children alone, pouring all her strength into keeping them safe. But she never spoke of her pain. And because she never healed, that pain didn’t disappear—it quietly shaped the whole family.
Like the characters in Encanto, many of our parents, grandparents, and even ourselves have carried the weight of survival, silence, and sacrifice. They did what they had to do: leaving their homelands, working multiple jobs, and enduring hardship without complaint. Silence became a way to protect the family; emotions were pushed down, stories went untold. Sacrifice was expected and even praised. Personal needs were set aside for the sake of others. And while these values helped our families survive, they also came with a cost. We can find ourselves caught between loyalty to where we come from and the longing to care for our own mental health.
Resmaa Menakem, in his book My Grandmother’s Hands, explains that intergenerational trauma is passed down through family patterns, unsafe systems, and even cultural norms. Research shows it can also be passed down in our bodies—through our very DNA. Sometimes we carry wounds we didn’t create, but still feel deeply.
This is why therapy matters. Many of us grew up believing that pain would simply fade with time, or that if we were strong enough, it would eventually disappear. But it doesn’t. Trauma stays. Our bodies remember. Our bodies feel it all.
Therapy gives you a space to gently unpack these patterns. It’s a space where you can be heard, where you don’t have to hold it all alone. Whether it’s emotional silence, people-pleasing, or feeling responsible for everyone’s well-being, therapy helps you name what’s been passed down, process what was never yours to carry, and learn new ways of being. It’s a chance to set boundaries, give yourself permission to rest, and create the emotional safety you may have never known. Therapy also challenges the stigma around mental health, it’s a powerful step toward rewriting your family’s, your own, story.
When you choose to heal, you’re not just healing for yourself. You’re planting seeds of change for the generations that follow. Every step you take to break harmful patterns, speak your truth, and tend to your well-being creates a more loving, open space for your children, your siblings, your loved ones. Healing is an act of love, one that ripples outward, even to those who never had the chance to heal themselves.
You don’t have to carry this alone. If you’ve felt the weight of family expectations, silence, or unspoken pain, therapy can be a place to start letting go. I invite you to reach out and begin this healing journey. Together, we can honour your story, break cycles, and build a future rooted in compassion, courage, and hope. I offer culturally responsive therapy for Latine communities, children of immigrants, and anyone navigating the weight of survival and silence. I work with clients across Ontario through secure virtual sessions. Learn more or book a free consultation today.
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