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When I lost my job, I didn’t cry. I didn’t sit with it. I didn’t call anyone and say I was scared or ashamed. What I did was get angry. I was frustrated and irritable. I moved through my days with an edge that I told myself was drive — that I was just hungry to fix the situation, to get back on track. That’s what it looked like on the outside.

What was actually happening underneath was shame. Sadness. A quiet terror that I had failed as a man, as a husband, as someone who was supposed to have it together. But I didn’t have the language for any of that. So it came out as anger, because anger was the one emotion I had always been allowed to have.

I studied psychology in college. I had read about emotions, understood the concepts, and could name the frameworks. But growing up in Miami, surrounded by Latino culture, there was no real push to go further than academic understanding. Knowing what emotions are and actually naming what you're feeling in real time are two completely different skills. And nobody around me was practicing the second one.

“Anger was the only emotion that didn’t make a Latino man look weak. So we became fluent in it.”

It wasn’t until depression forced me into therapy that I started doing the actual work. My wife had already been in therapy. Her emotional vocabulary was years ahead of mine. She could name what she was feeling with precision, not just “I’m upset” but the specific feel of it, where it came from, what it needed. 

I didn’t have that. 

I was operating with maybe three emotional categories: fine, angry, and really angry.

A Cultural Gap

That gap between us wasn’t just personal. It’s cultural. And it’s costing Latino men more than they realize. 

Here’s what happens when anger becomes your default output: everything gets filtered through it. Sadness comes out as snapping at your kids. Fear manifests as controlling behavior toward your partner. Shame comes out as defensiveness at work. You’re not actually angry in those moments — but anger is the only translation your nervous system knows how to make.

The people around you, like your wife, your children, and your team, don’t experience your sadness or your fear. They experience your anger. And over time, that’s what they learn to expect from you. That’s what they build their behavior around. That's what your kids grow up watching as the model for how men handle hard things.

“You’re not an angry man. You’re a man who was never taught what to do with the emotions underneath the anger.”

This distinction matters enormously. Because if anger is your personality, there’s nothing to work with — that’s just who you are. But if anger is a mask, that means there’s something real underneath it. Something that can be named, understood, and worked through.

The reason Latino men default to anger isn’t weakness. It’s training. In our culture, anger is the one emotion that reads as strength. It signals that you’re not to be messed with, that you’re in control, that nothing is getting to you. Every other emotion — such as sadness, fear, shame, and grief — made you vulnerable. And vulnerability, we were taught, was dangerous.

So we got good at anger. We practiced it until it became automatic. Until we stopped even noticing that something else was happening first.

Not a Quick Fix

Therapy didn’t fix this for me overnight. Neither did reading about it in college. What shifted it was a combination of being forced to stop (by job loss, by depression, by a marriage that needed more from me than I was giving) and having a partner who modeled what emotional fluency actually looked like up close.

Most men don’t get that combination until something breaks. The goal of this series is to give you the framework before the breaking point.

Try this: the next time you feel anger rising, get curious before you react. Ask yourself what’s actually underneath it. Not as a therapy exercise but as a leadership skill. Because the man who can identify what he’s actually feeling in real time is the man who responds instead of reacts. In his marriage. In his parenting. In every room he walks into.

That man isn’t soft. He’s precise. 

And precision is power.

Let’s continue the conversation because this is what Waking Up His-Panic is about.

Every week on YouTube: real talk on emotional awareness, Hispanic identity, and what it actually looks like to evolve as a man, a father, a leader. 

I promise — no filter or no performance. 

Just the work.

About the Author

Chris Bustos is a Latino father, business coach, and the host of Waking Up His-panic — a podcast and YouTube channel exploring emotional awareness, Hispanic identity, and what it means to evolve as a man. His work helps professionals and entrepreneurs grow without losing themselves in the process.

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Julio Ricardo Varela edited and published this edition of The Latino Newsletter.

The Latino Newsletter welcomes opinion pieces in English and/or Spanish from community voices. Submission guidelines are here. The views expressed by outside opinion contributors do not necessarily reflect the editorial views of this outlet or its employees.

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