Latinas Are Expected to Live With Our Parents Until We Marry — But I’m Breaking Tradition & Living Alone

In many cultures, it is the norm to live within a multigenerational home, and for Latinas, there’s generally an expectation that we remain in our parents’ home until we get married. There’s nothing wrong with this approach, and given the state of our current economy, it’s incredibly smart to live with family as long as it’s under safe and healthy conditions. For most of my adult life, I lived with my family and, for a short time, with a roommate. But for the past six months, I’ve been living alone. As someone who likes to explore the options the elder women in my family didn’t have, I knew I didn’t want to go from living with my parents to living with a significant other. I also didn’t want to look back and wonder if I missed out on having my own space. 

Pop culture often over-romanticizes living alone (think Carrie Bradshaw and Holly Golightly), but it is actually quite challenging.  I wasn’t sure if I’d love it or hate it, but as a single 29-year-old, I felt more than ready to enter this new era of my life. What I wasn’t prepared for was all the different emotions — guilt, sadness, and excitement — that would come with it. Luckily for me, I didn’t have to navigate these emotions on my own — my family is still supportive — and I have learned several lessons in the past six months of living alone. 

My sister, who is five years younger than me, is the first in my immediate family to live alone. Watching her live out a goal that we shared gave me the push I needed. As the oldest of four siblings, most of my life I have felt responsible for setting a good example for my brothers and sister and stepping up when my parents need support. 

Additionally, as a Mexican immigrant, familismo, a Latine cultural value of loyalty and commitment to the family, has taught me the importance of putting my relatives, including extended ones, first. So when I found my current apartment, an affordable one-bedroom in a beautiful neighborhood located exactly where I had hoped to live, I was over the moon. At the same time, as I thought about giving my parents the news, I couldn’t help but feel an ache of guilt in the pit of my stomach. 

My parents immigrated with me to the United States from Mexico when they were 21. They always did their best to give my siblings and me what we needed and as we each got older, they made it clear that their home would always be our home. There was never any pressure to move out by a certain time. Yes, I did pay them rent each month, but I also had access to my mom’s delicious home-cooked meals. By moving out to live on my own, it was as though I was choosing to struggle over the comfort and stability my parents had worked so hard to provide. 

Dr. Camila A. Pulgar, LMCHC of Salud Mental Health, PLLC says these feelings are normal. “Be compassionate with yourself as you navigate those feelings of guilt. Because marianismo, the Latine traditional feminine gender role of selflessness, is so ingrained in our culture, don’t expect them to go away completely,” she told Refinery29 Somos. The guilt I felt came from not wanting them to think I was ungrateful for their sacrifices. However, their sacrifices allowed me to do exactly what I’m doing: living a life filled with opportunities they didn’t have. Amalia Miralrio, LCSW of Amity Detroit Counseling, says, “it’s okay to want to develop your sense of identity in relation to your family but also on your own, and it’s not about finding the right answer. It’s about trying things on and getting to know how it feels.”

Moving out has helped me get better at saying “no” and setting boundaries with my family. I let them know when I’m too busy to help with something they need instead of adding more to my already full plate. To my surprise, it hasn’t negatively impacted our relationship and has improved our communication. The physical distance between my family and me has created a stronger relationship among us, and I find myself talking to them more than when we lived together. It’s been an unexpected gift.

I also didn’t foresee the amount of loneliness I’d initially feel. Going from a house of six people plus our family dog to living alone was like night and day. I went from constant noise to quietness, and it made me feel melancholy. “There might be a lot of emotions or maybe a lot of sadness at first,” Pulgar explains. “You might even miss your family, and that’s just part of the process. Allow yourself to feel that duality of excitement and sadness.” 

The initial silence was intense, and I yearned to have someone else around. “The silence might be uncomfortable at first because you’re not used to it,” Pulgar adds. “It can be helpful to use those moments of silence to reflect and journal about your experience.” Doing this proved effective for me. I had room for contemplation and reflection. It can be easy to spiral, so I focused on redirecting my thoughts and affirming myself and my decision. It’s not that I didn’t love my own company; it’s that it was a foreign concept to me. Now I get to learn about myself on a new level, and sometimes that comes with realizing there’s still lots of healing to do. 

Growing up in the U.S., I internalized the idea that proving you could do things on your own is something to applaud. I now reject this concept because anything I have ever accomplished was never by myself; it’s always been with the support of others. While some might think it’s necessary to be completely self-sufficient, having a solid support system is a testament to the abundance of love in my life. Living alone has been a reminder of the significance of interdependence and has made me better at asking for help. To combat the loneliness, I adopted my puppy, Leila, and she’s shown me a love I haven’t experienced before. Sharing the mundane moments of everyday life with another being, including a pet, is so much sweeter. 

But feelings of loneliness are possible even when living with others, so when those feelings come up, I try to get to the root of it. Sometimes I just want to talk to someone about literally anything, and other times there may be feelings I’ve been avoiding that I need to process. For years, I’d heard of healing your inner child, but it wasn’t until living alone that it finally came to the forefront. 

According to Miralrio, “This is a good time to ask yourself, ‘If I were here with like my inner child or a younger version of me, how would I care for her? How would I nurture her in this space?’ And use that as a guiding principle of getting enough — building a space of self-compassion, care, and joy for yourself.” I have started to care for myself the way I’d care for my younger me: eating more intuitively, napping when I need to, and allowing myself to be more playful and less serious. Of course, there are still days that are rough, but having my own space has opened the door to figuring out my needs. 

My decision to live alone came from my desire to have a place I could call my own and the new experiences I would face. As Miralrio shares, “Living alone is a great adventure and any great adventure is full of a lot of feelings, so embrace all of them.” 

I don’t know how long I’ll live alone, but I know it probably won’t be forever, which makes me cherish this part of my life even more. One day I will move in with family, get a roommate, or meet someone with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. Life is constantly changing, and its impermanence is a reminder to be in the present moment. So until then, I’m going to make the most out of this adventure. It’s only been six months of living alone so far, and I’m excited for what else there is to learn. Above all, I’m proud that I gave myself permission to live this chapter for me and defy expectations and norms, in both Mexican and U.S. cultures. I get to create a path of my own.

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