I remember watching my parents navigate the world. They moved through their days with a quiet resilience, carrying the weight of a home they’d left behind while building a new one for us. They spoke a language of hard work and sacrifice, and I learned it fluently.
Maybe you know that language, too.
It’s the language you speak when you’re balancing two cultures, trying to honor your family’s traditions while creating your own path. It’s the pressure you feel to make their sacrifices worth it. It’s the constant, low-humming exhaustion of code-switching between how you are at home and how you are at school or work.
It’s a lot to carry on your own. And when you think about talking to someone about it, the last thing you want to do is have to explain the basics.
The Search for Someone Who Just Gets It
Finding a therapist is a vulnerable process for anyone. But for us, it comes with a specific fear: “Will I have to spend my session explaining my culture? Will they understand why I can’t just say no to my family? Will they get it?”
That’s what culturally competent therapy is all about. It’s not a clinical buzzword. It’s finding a therapist who understands that your background isn’t a footnote to your story. It is the story.
It’s the difference between a therapist who says, “Tell me about your family,” and one who already understands the complex web of love, duty, and guilt that ‘family’ can mean in many of our cultures.
You deserve a space where you can finally put down the heavy bag of explanations and just be.
The Things We Carry
Everyone’s story is unique, but so many of us in the immigrant and first-generation communities carry similar burdens. It helps to know you’re not the only one. These are some of the things we often talk about in therapy:
- That feeling of being a bridge. You’re the translator, the cultural guide, the link between your parents’ world and the one you live in now. It’s an important role, but it can be a lonely one.
- The pressure and the guilt. The feeling that you have to be perfect to justify your family’s sacrifices. This can make it hard to take risks, to fail, or even to rest.
- Navigating all of who you are. Your identity is made of so many beautiful, intersecting parts. You might be first-gen and queer, for example. You need a space that celebrates and understands all of you, not just one piece at a time. Affirming Therapy
- Healing from the past. Sometimes, the journey here came with real trauma. And living here can bring its own pain from racism and discrimination. Therapy is a safe place to begin healing those wounds.
So, How Do You Find the Right Person?
Okay, the practical part. If you’re looking for a therapist for immigrants in MA, here’s my advice.
Think of it less like a search and more like an interview. You are the one in charge. A good place to start is an online directory like Psychology Today or Inclusive Therapists. But don’t just stop at the profile.
Go to their website. Read their “About Me” page. Does the way they write feel… human? Does it feel like someone you could actually talk to?
Then, trust your gut. Schedule your intake session. You’ll know more from that than from hours of reading profiles. Ask yourself: “Did I feel a sense of ease talking to them? Did I feel like I could actually be myself?”
The right therapist for you is out there.
This is Personal for Us
This work is personal for me. I started Colorful Resilience because I know what it’s like to sit in a therapy room and feel like you have to hand the therapist a glossary just to get started.
As a Queer-Afro-Latina-owned practice, we are members of the communities we serve. We’ve lived these stories. We’ve sat with that same feeling of being a bridge. We built this space so that you could have what we often needed: a place where you are understood from the moment you walk through the door.
We believe you are resilient. Our job is to help you connect with that strength.
Let’s Talk
If any of this feels like your story, maybe it’s time to talk about it. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself anymore.
When you’re ready, reach out. We’re here to listen.
