This toxic Latin mentality prevented me from telling stories
During Mental Health Awareness Month, we asked Latinx comedians and creators we admire how comedy has helped them overcome trauma and face their most important challenges. how in life. Read the sections here.
There’s a cultural saying in Latinidad that always makes me a little uneasy: “Lo que pasa en casa se queda en casa.” It means what happens at home stays at home – aka loyalty above all else.
Growing up in a family of subjective humor taught me invaluable lessons about the power of humor and its role as a survival tool, especially in challenging times. In my Ecuadorian immigrant family, our main coping mechanism was to find solace in humor amid the chaos. But there is always a line, an invisible boundary as to how much we can share due to the “lo que pasa en la casa” mentality – the notion that some things should never leave the boundary. limit our house. I realized early on that this mentality stemmed from a desire to maintain appearances, protect the family’s reputation, and promote the value of privacy.
The “lo que pasa en la casa” mentality has always felt like a kind of silence or secrecy that prohibits many of my Tias, Tiaos, cousins, and siblings from seeking things like therapy. It is also an invisible shackle that binds my art before it even begins. Some may argue that “lo que pasa en casa” is only about “privacy” or “protection,” but that’s a double-edged sword. There are situations where it’s critical (for example, if someone in the family wins the lottery and you don’t want everyone to come out of the woodwork to get a piece of the pie). In those cases, it’s about protection. But for me, the heavy subtext demanding loyalty rears its ugly head when “lo que pasa en casa” is presented as privacy. I’ve always been annoyed about how Latin culture seems to value what others think over the actual truth. It’s all about “el qué dirán!” – the fear of what other people will say – that’s what haunts me as a creative person. And believe me, after more than a decade as a social-first writer and producer, I think I can do it. Don’t be alone in there.
As a funny storyteller and someone who has used the Internet as a place of personal experimentation, much in the way a stand-up comic uses the stage, I often feel the weight of this mentality weighing on me. While most of my content was initially focused on pop culture and humor, including everything from J Lo’s relationship drama ARRIVE New York City character, the shift to a personal perspective was much easier for me conceptually than in practice. It’s convenient to start with facts that always paint my family in the best light – for example, the story of what my family is like. mother’s courageous determination helped me get rhinoplasty at age 3 to stop childhood bullying.
Tiptoeing around easier stories with a touch of realism is second nature to me; that’s how I navigated the world throughout my adult years, never really allowed to acknowledge how difficult things were economically, how violent my father was toward my mother, or how one of my sisters would eventually become hostile towards me. Although my mother refused to let us share the truth with teachers, friends, or even extended family, I was fortunate that her strength and wisdom decided to enroll us in the program. family counseling when I was about 6 years old. Unfortunately, by then, my sisters were so entrenched in the fear and consequences of “lo que pasa en casa” that they refused to talk until they stopped attending altogether.
As the youngest person who wished to understand, I tried my best. However, I spent years perfecting the art of omission to ensure my mother would never have to face her greatest fear in “me las van a quiar,” a phrase meaning “they will take them away from me”. For 13 years, I went through therapy sessions feeling mentally limited in my level of reality, which ultimately prolonged my healing and creativity.
However, my first therapist must have seen me struggling with untold truths and advised my mother to enroll me in acting classes. In theater, I found my first creative outlet for my pain. The words on the page were never mine, but the feelings were, and for many years, that was enough. Ultimately, I longed to tell my stories, but my fear of exposing others’ truths kept me from exploring.
There are different types of comedians: stand-up artists and sketch artists, to name a few. The person I always admire the most is the solo performer. I’ve always been a longtime fan of one-man show icons like John Leguizamo. But he also paid the price — and confirmed my “lo que pasa en casa” worries when I learned his father almost sued him for defame character for his impression of his dysfunctional family on the 1998 show “Freak”.
The Internet is my most notable creative outlet, but I’m finally ready to explore more. Therefore, I recently decided to challenge and nurture the artist within me. The concept of “lo que pasa en la casa” has limited me to just standing on the surface of my truth, but the tide is turning. I think one of the best examples of someone who believes her truth is Mayan Lopez, co-founder of “Lopez vs. Lopez“, with her willingness to reveal parts of her family’s private affairs. Her choice was to do an entire series of voice-over films. “Why do my divorced parents still act like they’re married?” got her the green light from a studio. She told the Los Angeles Times“Culturally, yeah, we don’t publish that stuff. But that’s part of some of the issues in our community — generational trauma and unaddressed masculinity.”
It’s easy to say that her content has gone viral with help from her famous father. However, it was the behind-the-scenes actions that only she had the right and courage to share, along with her father’s support, that helped her challenge the “lo que pasa en casa” mentality. In the series, Lopez tackles themes of abandonment and father issues in a way that renegotiates the narrative of the “united Latine family”.
Since we are an incredibly diverse community, it is time we demonstrate that Latinos are not a monolith. Some of us have dark, awkward, raw, honest, and strange stories that need to be told to give our communities true, diverse humanity and help us all Heal wounds with laughter. Our art expands when we, as artists, embrace our messiness.
So here I am, at a crossroads, throwing caution to the wind and ready to share some unfavorable stories with the world. I’m learning and inviting others to challenge the “lo que pasa en la casa” mentality with me. My “content” is evolving into open-ended monologues. I’m back in theater and this time I’m telling my true stories. I took some risks, joking about things like daughter of the father who supported my mother’s failed abortion to avoid his responsibilities. While I realize that many family members and outsiders will judge my choices, I have to honor my truth, even if it ruffles a few feathers.
I will always start by respecting the humanity and fallibility of others. Culture and family are important, but I have the right to share my story. Some of us use humor to hide our darkness, but we’re not afraid to let our bold truth shine through. So what if people don’t understand me? The people who sympathize with my story are the people I make comedy for.
Honestly, I think you can choose what you keep private. Humor is personal, but we are entering an age where authenticity is essential. And humorous storytelling is not a one-size-fits-all solution. I truly believe that creativity is within all of us, but some of us hide it behind secrets we are forced to keep. Art thrives when it is understandable and healing, regardless of how it is perceived. It’s not about showing off; it’s about accepting the truth, about having the courage to challenge the norms that “lo que pasa en casa” throws at us to help others feel comfortable. And hey, sure, “lo que pasa en casa” has its place, but it’s time to kick that custom to the curb. It’s not all bad – it’s like a coin with two sides – but man, it’s “el que diran!” part! That’s one of the many things that are holding our community back.
Katherine G. Mendoza is a seasoned Ecuadorian-American writer and producer, boasting over a decade of expertise in socially engaged storytelling. Her work has appeared on the pages and screens of prominent publications and media outlets including PS, The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, Variety, Univision, Telemundo, Huffington Post and Uproxx.
