Some of us weren’t given the option to be carefree

Some of us were handed the role of “reliable” before we even understood what it cost.

In my culture, being a woman, there’s no real space to not be strong. Where I come from, “reliable” is not a compliment; it’s a generational assignment. As a first-generation daughter of Panamanian, Spanish, and Indigenous roots, raised between collectivist expectations and capitalist survival, I didn’t just become reliable; I was trained in it.

In many Brown and Afro-Latina families, you're praised for being “helpful,” “mature,” “the strong one.” But what that really means is: You don’t get to fall apart. And when you are in America, the choice of being who you want to be is already chosen for you.

Growing up, I was the translator at doctors' offices. The emotional buffer in family conflict. The one who held space for everyone, while no one knew what I was holding inside.

Later, when I worked in social services and education, that “reliability” followed me. I was the de-escalator, the coach, the counselor, the fixer, even when it wasn’t in my job description. I would willingly stop what I was doing to be there for those who needed it because it was the right thing to do, to always put others before yourself. Especially as a neurodivergent woman masking for survival, I became the invisible net holding the system together. And saying no to others felt foreign and uncomfortable.

And when I worked in Ed Tech and Corporate Ed? I became the do-er. The person who reflexively said “yes ma’am,” or “yes sir.” I didn’t speak up for my rights or ask for accommodations. I maintained composure to produce, to please others, to avoid making anyone uncomfortable. For example, when one of my former supervisors disclosed their neurodivergence, my needs went out the window. When I tried to advocate for my needs, I was treated like a therapist—expected to manage their discomfort. When I spoke up again, I was dismissed, ignored, and quietly labeled “needy.”

Let’s talk about what being invisible costs.

The Visibility Tradeoff

Here's the paradox: the more emotionally responsible we become for others, the less visible our own needs, growth, and leadership become. We become the behind-the-scenes fixer, never the one invited to speak on the panel, lead the meeting, or pitch the strategy.

The Career Stall

Reliability becomes a form of quiet erasure. We get praised for being the dependable one—always available, always managing, but rarely resourced, mentored, or sponsored. Our emotional labor is mistaken for "potential," never power.

Industrial-Organizational (I/O) Psychology is the science of how people think, feel, and behave at work. It examines factors such as motivation, leadership, hiring, workplace culture, and well-being, and how to improve work for both employees and organizations. If we apply  Industrial and Organizational Psychology to the context of this post, we would label this as a misalignment of role expectations and identity expression. In simple terms, you're rewarded for emotional containment, not innovation. You're seen as stabilizing but never leading.

The Well-Being Collapse

The invisible labor of emotional anchoring isn't just at work. It lives in our families. Our group chats. Our caregiving roles. Our calendars.

Burnout isn't just about overwork; it's about identity distortion.

When your identity becomes enmeshed with being everyone's "go-to," you start to disappear. You become the high-functioning, masked version of yourself, always calm, always capable, while your inner world collapses quietly.

Navigating Cultural Expectations

In many communities of color, neurodivergence is misunderstood, pathologized, or outright denied. There's no word for "executive dysfunction" in Spanish that doesn't sound like an insult.

Cultural and gender expectations demand caretaking, obedience, and achievement—all at once. And if your shade within that cultural context is not the "acceptable" norm, you experience shade thrown your way from your own people. And yes, I've lived this.

When that happens, you begin to question your belonging, which directly impacts identity, confidence, and well-being.

Societal norms reward productivity, professionalism, and perfection. And in the workplace? Stereotypes of certain cultures and women within those cultures box us in. When we step outside the expected role or dare to show up as our whole selves, we're called extra, too emotional, too angry, too sensitive, too much, not enough.

If you don't take note of these coded norms around gender, culture, or appearance, you might end up aspiring to them, wrongfully shaping yourself into someone else's mold because you've never seen a version of success that looks like you.

You start asking yourself: 

• "Am I failing my culture or saving myself?" 
• "Am I being ungrateful or just exhausted?" 
• "Do I say no or do I risk being called 'lazy,' 'difficult,' or 'unreliable'?"

This is the identity cost no one warns us about. This is the tension between survival and selfhood.

Redefining “Reliable”

The truth is that: Being reliable isn’t the problem. Being reduced to reliability is.

We deserve to: 

• Be supported, not just needed
• Be respected, not just tolerated
• Be seen for our whole selves, not just our labor
• Reclaim the right to evolve, reinterpret, and reshape our cultural traditions without judgment or shame to reflect who we are becoming, not just who we’ve been told to be

You are allowed to say: "This version of reliability is costing me my joy, my clarity, my identity and my well-being."

And you are allowed to build a new definition, on your terms.

If You’re Living It: Identity Reclaiming Reminders

For the women holding everyone together, often at the cost of their own well-being:

• Ask yourself: “Which of these roles still feel like mine and which ones am I just performing?”
• Track your energy, not just your productivity. Your body knows when you’re running on depletion.
• Practice saying “Not right now” without guilt. You don’t have to explain your no.
• Remember: You’re not unreliable for reclaiming your time, your needs, or your peace.

Survival doesn’t have to be your permanent identity. You are allowed to become someone new.

If You’re Witnessing It: How to Show Up Better

If you’re a leader, coworker, friend, or family member watching someone quietly carry too much, here’s how to disrupt the cycle:

• Stop praising over-functioning. Instead, ask: “How are you really doing and what do you actually need?”
• Don’t give extra tasks to the person who "can handle it." Redistribute responsibility.
• Amplify their ideas, not just their support. Bring their voice into leadership spaces.
• If you benefit from someone else’s work and efforts (emotional, cultural, logistical) acknowledge it and offer something back.

Don’t confuse their silence for consent. Don’t mistake their strength for capacity.

Want to Explore This Topic Deeper?

Itzel shares tools, stories, and articles like this at The Unfolding Room™ and on her Substack, The Multi-Thread Manifesto.

For consulting, workshop bookings, or community facilitation, reach out directly at itzely@theunfoldingroom.co.

Core frameworks referenced here are part of the Identity Intelligence™ suite by Itzel Yagual and are protected proprietary concepts used only in licensed workshops and consulting programs.