All my life, I’ve searched for belonging. 

When I was a child in elementary school, I thought I didn’t belong because I was a child of divorced parents. In middle school, I searched for a sense of belonging in novels, video games, friends, and extracurricular activities, but to no avail.

In high school, I decided to belong to a boy, thinking that a relationship would cure all my emotional ailments. For a time, it did, and I felt like I was on top of the world. I can still see myself with my windows rolled down in my red Corolla scream-singing Como la Flor while driving down I-10 dreaming of where life would take me next. 

Of course, life had much more in store for me than I could have imagined at 17. I’ll fast-forward through some of the details, but I moved away to attend a Catholic university, endured a breakup with that boyfriend, and worked three jobs to support myself through college, all while facing mental health concerns of my own.

At 19, I found labels to describe some of my identity-related experiences: bisexual, polyamorous, fat, fourth-generation Latina. Each label by itself carried immense meaning for me, often connected to the spaces I moved through. However, at the end of each day, I still felt a deep tug in my gut that signaled my longing to be truly seen by those around me.

I learned that I moved through the world displaying the parts of myself that I thought would be most palatable to others. To my family, I was a subdued version of myself, only allowing myself to be opinionated when I deemed it mattered most. In graduate school, I was a brilliant, tokenized Brown woman, who educated my peers and faculty members about Latinx issues.

In my community, I was a White-washed no sabo kid who couldn’t pronounce items on the taqueria menu. The only person who saw me in each of these experiences was me, and even then, I was riddled with shame and rage and time scarcity, which all proved to be excellent reasons to avoid myself and my emotional needs.

Why self-compassion is helpful for belongingness.

My most recent therapist read me for filth when I told her that I hated self-compassion by saying, “that won’t work for very long.” I sat in absolute shock as her words washed over me. At the time, I had been in personal therapy for seven years and was on the brink of being a therapist for others. I was so certain that I had a handle on what it took to heal and change. However, after receiving that feedback from my therapist, I decided to double down on my self-exploration. 

I learned in both my personal exploration and professional development that shame is socially constructed, meaning that shame is created by the narratives in our society that tell us what is appropriate, desirable, and connecting.

Therefore, we must work to make explicit and clear the narratives that we have internalized around our Latinidad, our Queerness, our bodies, and our communities.

Our Queer Latinx ancestors were told that their love and authenticity were unacceptable by broader communities (often colonial; e.g., Catholicism, the United States). Out of a need for individual safety, it has therefore often been necessary to siphon off parts of ourselves that did not align with the norms of our gente. 

On the journey to belongingness, we must work to understand the impacts of having been told for generations that we didn’t or wouldn’t belong in certain contexts. 

Upon making explicit the narratives of shame we have held, we can begin to question their purpose in our hearts, minds, and lineages. Why does it feel necessary to hide parts of myself? When does this narrative pose a barrier to my authenticity? When am I acting out of a fear that belongingness is scarce? After receiving answers from the most intuitive part of myself, I can begin to soothe and validate the parts of me that act out of fear and worry. I can remind myself that my needs are normal and human and deserving of great care. 

Where do I search for belonging? The challenges of seeking external validation.

Self-questioning is often an ongoing process for those of us who exist in margins and liminality. Is “bisexual” really my label? Do I get to call myself “Queer?” Am I really Latino/a/e/x if I don’t connect with my culture? Does my Latinidad hold space for my identity if there’s no translation for my pronouns?

Questioning is a vulnerable reality of our self-exploration. The vulnerability in questioning often lies in the methods we use to find answers. If I question myself and search for answers with my friends, what will they say? In questioning externally, I run the risk of feeling rejected or misunderstood by those closest to me.

For those of us who have been socialized to treat what others say about us with high regard, it can feel necessary to take others’ feedback at face value. A seemingly “easy” answer to this conundrum could be to search for answers inwardly. However, many of us are also not given the tools to safely practice curiosity within ourselves. Setting the stage for curiosity by practicing self-compassion first can be helpful. 

First, I might notice what activates within me when I think about the topics I would like to explore. I might find points of friction in my mind or body filled with fear or past experiences. I can give myself affirmations that I am safe within myself, and that I accept my process of questioning as just that, a process, which can allow me to engage gently with myself. Then, I can ask myself questions about my experiences and my desires in a nonjudgmental fashion and rely on my intuition for answers. 

An example of this process for me was questioning my gender identity as a cisgender woman. Many people in my life experience and refer to me as a woman, and yet those labels have never felt like they described the wholeness of my gender. While I have had the privilege of not experiencing gender dysphoria, I simultaneously contended that I deserved more authentic alignment with my identity labels.

As I grappled with this self-questioning, I often worried that I would be co-opting the experiences of trans and nonbinary by claiming my own authenticity in being gender-expansive. In my practice of self-compassion, I reminded myself that I believe it is a human right to engage in self-questioning around one’s identity labels, including gender, and that my experience of questioning is valid and desirable to myself by way of my values and desires. Furthermore, it is normal for the labels we use to grow and change as we evolve. 

How do I affirm my own sense of belonging when the world doesn’t?

It is imperative to note that we have a choice in our search for validation and belongingness. We may choose to search for belongingness externally in our families, neighborhoods, and friend groups. We are afforded the equally valid choice to affirm ourselves when we recognize we are seeking to belong. 

Some affirmations that align for me include:

• I belong to myself when I choose to nourish and comfort my body intentionally and intuitively. 

• I belong to myself when I cultivate self-intimacy through journaling, play, connection with my breath, and creativity. 

• I belong to myself when I curate my physical space in ways that please me.

• I belong to myself when I see all parts of myself as fundamentally good-natured and adaptive.

• I belong to myself when I witness my whole being at once, including mind, body, and spirit. 

• I belong to myself and my ancestors when I hold space for the intergenerational trauma and gifts we have shared.

• Belonging to myself is fulfilling, nourishing, and worthy of my time/energy.

What does it require to finally feel like I belong?

Our world is riddled with notions of “enoughness.” In fact, many of us face trials in “enoughness” on a daily basis related to our partners, our pets, our jobs, and our schooling. It can be tempting to ask whether we are cool enough or competent enough or interesting enough for a certain opportunity.

However, when we speak the language of “enoughness,” we are speaking the language of social hierarchy, external validation, and scarcity. When practicing self-belongingness, however, it is within our power to determine that we are enough for ourselves and enough for the people, places, and things that help us cultivate mutual sustainability and reciprocity.

The truth of the matter is that many of us live in constant states of dysregulation due to the interlocking systems of oppression that require us to prioritize production, consumption, and comfort. When we search for belongingness in others and are met with undesired outcomes, our default tendency is to believe that rejection means something about us personally rather than the trappings of our society. This is a natural, normal tendency that is interwoven with the needs of our neurobiology. 

Belongingness is a universal human right that has been trampled and exploited by the rhetoric of “borders” and “enoughness.”

Allowing ourselves to belong in a world that can be deeply inhospitable is radically healing and free to access. It can be an act of justice for ourselves and others to validate that we belong simply because we are here. We belong to ourselves, our Queer siblings, our chosen family, our ancestors, and to the Earth, which by default is enough. 

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Zonia Teresa Huerta, M.A., Licensed Professional Counselor-Associate (TX).

Supervised by Anna Clark-Miller, M.A., LPC-S, LMHC