She grew up in Compton not knowing she was poor, moved to Colorado and didn’t recognize herself, picked up a criminal record at 20, and still found a way to become a PhD, a trauma therapist, a business owner, and the exact person she needed when no one like her existed. Dr. Xochilt Alamillo isn’t just breaking generational cycles — she’s building the road everyone else gets to walk on.
Not Knowing What You Don’t Know
Growing up in Compton, Dr. Xochilt Alamillo didn’t know she was poor. Everyone around her was in the same boat. School felt normal — until she moved to Colorado as a teenager and realized she’d spent years in under-resourced classrooms that didn’t even have textbooks. She was buying a backpack for the first time in her life because, back in Compton, there was nothing to put in one. They did worksheets. No books. Teachers doing what they could with what they had, which wasn’t much.
It wasn’t until she was out of that environment that she could see it for what it was. And that shift in perspective — seeing your past clearly from the outside — turns out to be one of the first steps in a very long journey.
Culture Shock, the Wrong Crowd, and a Criminal Record
In Compton, Dr. Xochilt was a good student. That changed when she arrived in Colorado, where she was one of the few brown kids in her school and found herself behind academically — not because she wasn’t smart, but because her underfunded schools had left her underprepared. She didn’t belong. So she found the people who also didn’t belong, and they found trouble together.
She followed what she describes as “the path expected of her as a Latina” — got married young, had kids — and a combination of being first gen, navigating bad relationships, and not having the knowledge to protect herself in business dealings led to a felony conviction. The criminal offense occurred when she was just 20. The conviction came ten years later.
“If that hadn’t happened to me, I might not be where I am now. Having so many doors shut in my face made me realize I had fallen into the trap of becoming a statistic — and I was going to get myself out.”
A felony on your record means you can’t rent an apartment. It’s hard to get a job. Some colleges won’t even let you apply. But for Dr. Xochilt, it also became the thing that lit a fire she couldn’t ignore.
Becoming the Therapist She Couldn’t Find
When the weight of courts, probation, and urine tests got to be too much, Dr. Xochilt knew she needed support. She went looking for a Latina therapist. She didn’t find one. The therapists she worked with were helpful — but she spent a significant portion of every session explaining the context of her life before any real work could happen.
That experience planted a seed. She decided to go back to school — starting at community college, climbing her way up while doing side hustles, raising kids, and keeping her eyes fixed on a goal that seemed improbable from the outside. She got licensed as a Clinical Social Worker. Then she enrolled in a PhD program. She graduated from the University of Denver with a doctorate in Social Work, with research focused on Latina youth suicidality, bicultural stress, and the intersections of culture, gender, and family.
She wanted to be the therapist she couldn’t find. So she became her.
The Mental Health Struggles Latinas Carry in Silence
As a trauma-informed therapist working primarily with Latinx and BIPOC communities, Dr. Xochilt sees the same patterns over and over. Anxiety is at the top of the list — but not the casual kind. For Latinas, anxiety is the weight of an entire family’s future sitting on your chest. Your parents’ future. Your kids’ future. The whole family’s future. Because as Latinas, she says, we feel responsible for everything.
She also sees a lot of relationship work — Latinas who want to break cycles, have healthy friendships, heal inner child wounds, and get along with their parents in ways they never were able to as kids. As her first podcast episode explored, we are a generation of cycle breakers, and that work is hard, emotional, and deeply necessary.
When “Being Strong” Becomes Self-Abandonment
We’ve been taught to endure. To survive. To be the strong one. And so much of the time, that’s framed as a compliment — you’re so resilient, you’ve been through so much, you’re so inspiring. But Dr. Xochilt is direct: the moment being strong comes at the cost of your wellness, you’re doing too much.
She’s not talking about one bad day. She’s talking about the high blood pressure. The inability to sleep because you’re worried about everyone else. The no time for yourself. The body quietly keeping a tab on everything your mind has refused to process. That’s when strength stops being a flex.
“At the point that it comes at the cost of your wellness — that is when you’re doing too much.”
Bicultural Stress: Not Latino Enough, Not American Enough
Dr. Xochilt wrote her dissertation on bicultural stress, and it’s one of her favorite topics to talk about — because so few people have language for what they’ve been experiencing their whole lives. Bicultural stress is the experience of not belonging in either world: being told you’re “not Latino enough” because your Spanish isn’t perfect, or being too “Americanized” because of the way you dress or the education you’ve pursued.
It shows up as masking — acting one way with your familia, another way in professional spaces. It shows up as shame around language. Jannese shared her own experience of growing up Puerto Rican and getting made fun of for her dialect of Spanish by other Latino communities — so much so that she stopped speaking Spanish altogether and had to relearn it as an adult. And in corporate spaces, the story flips: now you’re too Latino.
The result? You feel like an imposter everywhere you go. You don’t even know who you are.
“Being proud of being in between — that’s where we start. I know two languages. When did that become a flaw?”
Dr. Xochilt also referenced singer Becky G’s Billboard Women in Music Awards speech, in which she called herself a “200 percenter” — 100% American, 100% Mexican — and encouraged other bicultural women to push through the loneliness of that road. That’s the energy: own all of it, unapologetically.
What Healing Actually Looks Like
Here’s what Dr. Xochilt wants you to know about healing: it is not the romanticized Instagram version. It is hard. Physical healing hurts — and emotional healing is no different. She’s watched people quit the process because it gets so painful, and she understands why.
But here’s what she also believes: you can get to a place where you consider yourself healed. Not in a way that means nothing ever affects you again. But in a way where you’re equipped. Where shit happens and you keep going — not because you’re in denial, but because your sense of who you are doesn’t crumble every time life gets hard.
She describes healing as grief — grief for who you never got to be, grief for things that happened, grief for things that didn’t. And grief, she says, never fully ends. You just learn to live with it. What changes is how it affects you.
“Healing is not about not experiencing hard things. It’s about being able to handle whatever comes your way.”
Survivor Guilt and the Weight of Being the Enlightened One
When you’re the first in your family or community to start healing — financially, emotionally, professionally — things get complicated fast. You’ve got your nice house, your career, your therapy appointments, and when you go back to the neighborhood, you see the people you love still struggling. That’s survivor guilt, and it’s real.
Dr. Xochilt’s advice? Find people who get it. Your amigas, comadres, homies who are on the same path — because if you try to process the guilt alone, you’ll talk yourself into carrying what was never yours to carry. And she’s also clear on this: you cannot want healing for someone more than they want it for themselves. You can hold space. You can offer resources when they’re asked for. But pushing someone toward a journey they’re not ready for only hurts you.
Sometimes they’ll get there. Sometimes they won’t. And learning to be at peace with that is part of your own healing process.
Debunking Therapy Stigma — One Conversation at a Time
Even in 2026, therapy stigma runs deep in Latino communities. Dr. Xochilt wishes more people knew three things:
First — therapy doesn’t have to look like a stereotypical therapy session. It’s a conversation with someone who has no skin in the game, who can observe you and your patterns and teach you tools for navigating life. You show up as yourself. That’s it.
Second — you can shop for a therapist. If you’re not clicking after a few sessions, move on. Even therapists want this for you.
Third — when therapy isn’t accessible, lean into what your cultura already does well. Cafecito with your friends. Curanderismo. Time in nature. Making space for chisme and connection without kids or deadlines. These things aren’t substitutes for therapy, but they’re not nothing either. They’re community. And community is medicine.
The Vow of Poverty Is a Lie: Building a Business as a Therapist
Somewhere along the way, social workers were sold a story: you’re in this for humanity, which means you accept that you’ll be underpaid and overworked. Dr. Xochilt is done with that narrative.
Her entrepreneurial journey started during her PhD program, when a small stipend forced her to pick up side hustles — facilitating groups, retreats, and trainings for other organizations. She started learning the ropes. She had mentors who showed her how to find her own clients outside of one-on-one therapy. She realized she could make more impact with a room full of people than with one person at a time — and that the business model could reflect that.
Today she has a private practice, but also coaches other mental health providers on building their own businesses, leads retreats, and hosts The Chicana Therapist Podcast. Multiple income streams. Flexible schedule. More money. Work she’s proud of. She’s been shamed for her rates and shamed for her choices — and she’s done caring about the shame.
“We are basically told we should take a vow of poverty. I don’t know why. Because I feel really good about the work I do — and I deserve to be paid for it.”
A Retreat Where You Don’t Have to Code-Switch
Dr. Xochilt has spent years going to professional retreats that left her more exhausted than when she arrived — because she had to spend the entire time managing how much of herself she showed. Non-POC spaces can be draining in ways that are hard to explain until you’ve experienced them. Code-switching around the clock. Insensitive comments. A total disconnect from what your community is actually going through.
So she’s creating the space she always wanted. Together with her friend Claudia Muro, she’s hosting a five-day healing retreat in Oaxaca — exclusively for Latinas. Therapeutic workshops. Group sessions. Excursions to see where alebrijes are made. Intentional economic support for Indigenous women entrepreneurs in the area. And zero need to mask or explain yourself to anyone in the room.
Because sometimes healing requires a container where you’re already understood before you open your mouth.
10 Things to Remember from This Episode
- Bicultural stress is real. Being rejected by both your culture and mainstream America has serious mental health consequences — and you didn’t make it up.
- Anxiety in Latinas isn’t just personal worry. It’s your whole family’s future sitting on your chest. The weight was never meant to be yours alone.
- Emotional neglect is one of the most normalized (and damaging) patterns in Latino households. Naming it isn’t talking trash on your cultura — it’s how change begins.
- Healing is not the aesthetic on your Instagram feed. It hurts. But the goal isn’t a pain-free life — it’s being equipped to handle whatever shows up.
- Survivor guilt is real when you’re the first to make it out. Find people who get it, because you’ll talk yourself into carrying things that were never yours to carry.
- You cannot want healing for someone more than they want it for themselves. Protect your peace. Hold space when it’s asked of you — and let it be enough.
- Therapy doesn’t have to look like a couch and a notepad. It’s a conversation with someone who has no skin in the game. You just show up.
- When therapy isn’t accessible, your cultura already has tools: cafecito, community, curanderismo. Do more of what already works — with intention.
- Therapists and social workers: you do not have to take a vow of poverty. Retreats, groups, trainings, and coaching are all legitimate income streams.
- Finding your people — online or off — is one of the most radical acts of self-preservation a first-gen woman can make. The internet exists. Use it.
Resources Mentioned
Dr. Xochilt Alamillo — www.thechicanatherapist.com
The Chicana Therapist Podcast — available on all major platforms
Follow Dr. Xochilt on Instagram: @the_chicana_therapist
Financially Lit! — Jannese’s book: financiallylitbook.com
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