I Spent Thousands of Dollars To Look Less Latina, but Assimilation Came at a Much Higher Price

I spent thousands of dollars trying to erase my Latinidad—thousands on suits, accessories, and looks that I thought would make me blend into a world that was never meant for me.

Every trip to the store felt like a transaction, not just for clothes but for acceptance. I didn’t realize it then, but every dollar I spent pushed me further from who I truly was.

I wish I could say my wallet was the only thing suffering, but the emotional toll of not fitting in was far heavier.

By the time I entered the corporate world, my desire to fit in had only intensified. When I got my first promotion, it came with a better salary—more than any of my family members ever had the opportunity to earn.

But the promotion didn’t come alone. It also came with a $450 allowance to buy clothes. I was young and eager to prove myself, so I followed their advice without question, buying outfits that made me feel like I was wearing someone else’s skin.

This need to fit in didn’t start in my corporate career—it began when I was young.

I still remember receiving my allowance and rushing to the store to buy things I thought would make me look more “executive-like” or “less Latina.” I didn’t realize it back then, but every dollar I spent was a step away from embracing who I truly was.

That moment in corporate America solidified my belief that to succeed, I had to mold myself into what others expected—a more “acceptable” version of myself.

Every suit and accessory I bought was less about expressing who I was and more about covering up my identity, literally and figuratively.

After these experiences, I started to question if I even belonged at that table.

I second-guessed every decision I made, working extra hours on projects to make sure they were completed to perfection. Hello, imposter syndrome. The pressure was real, and I became emotionally exhausted.

But I couldn’t share this burden with my mom or other family members. Each time I tried, I was reminded to be grateful for having access to a 401K, a stable paycheck, and the office job they couldn’t have. No one in my family had walked the corporate path before—I was paving the way.

The emotional toll became too heavy to handle.

In 2019, my dream career came crashing down when my pregnancy became an “inconvenience” to my immediate supervisor. Their words made me realize that no amount of trips to the mall or effort to assimilate could fix this. The toll of assimilation was not worth it anymore.

Every paycheck became a transaction—not just for clothes or accessories, but for acceptance into a world where looking less Latina felt like my only way in. When I finally left that job, there was no longer a need to buy clothes to fit in or spend hundreds of dollars from my paycheck—money that, over the years, added up to thousands.

And for the first time in decades, I walked into a closet full of suits that didn’t just make me look older—they symbolized who I wasn’t. Every piece represented the woman I tried to be, not the mujer I truly was.

At that moment, I realized I had spent thousands of dollars to look less Latina.

Leaving corporate America was hard, but letting go of the identity I had built around my job and title was even harder.

I began by donating the suits I had once worn so proudly. Even without the pressure of an office, I found myself wandering through the “business” sections of department stores, unsure how to style an outfit that truly reflected my Latinidad.

Overspending to fit in had come with a steep price. When I finally took a hard look at my finances, I was shocked to realize how much damage had been done.

I wish I could say I had a plan, but I didn’t. I had just a $2,000 balance in a regular checking account, and I was terrified of confronting my personal finances because money was such a big taboo topic in my family growing up.

But that’s when curiosity kicked in.

Why had I developed such an unhealthy relationship with money? Why had overspending become a necessity?

I started reflecting on how my past experiences shaped my financial habits. And the moment I learned how to invest, everything changed. Taking control of my money—learning how to manage and grow it—became my super poder.

I discovered that no job or title was worth losing who I was: a bold Latina who loves to wear bright colors, laugh out loud, and rock red lipstick aunque tengo los labios grandes.

For so long, I thought I was alone in this journey. But when I started sharing my story on social media, other busy mujeres began raising their hands, saying me too.

They shared how they had also been assimilating for years, not feeling safe enough to be their authentic Latina selves in corporate America. They feared that showing their Latinidad would make them seem less qualified for the executive seat.

Reading these stories made me realize that I wasn’t alone and that other mujeres struggled with this too. Unfortunately, assimilation to succeed in corporate America is an unwritten rule many are willing to pay for.

But it makes me wonder: Is letting go of your roots really worth it?

The thousands of dollars I spent to look less Latina could never buy me the confidence and sense of purpose I gained from showing up as my full, unapologetic self.

I learned that true success isn’t about fitting into someone else’s mold—it’s about creating space for your authentic self to thrive.

In the last five years, I’ve witnessed more and more Latinas embrace their identity. That’s not only their super poder—it’s what’s getting them a seat at the table.

And where there isn’t a table for them, they aren’t running to the department stores to buy fancy suits to look less Latina. They’re creating their own tables and, along the way, bringing other Latinas with them.

Assimilation, as I’ve come to realize, is an expensive and exhausting price to pay.

It strips away your identity, makes you feel small, and keeps you from showing up fully in the world.

For years, I thought looking less Latina was my ticket to success, but I’ve come to understand that my true power lies in embracing who I am—and there is no greater wealth than that.

As I close this piece, I invite you to reflect: Are you willing to pay the cost of assimilation? What is the financial and emotional toll on your identity, confidence, and ability to thrive as your authentic self?

Remember, the price of losing who you are is far greater than any suit or title could ever be.

Luzy King is a trailblazer Latina in personal finance, dedicated to empowering Latinas to take control of their financial futures. As the founder of Say Hola Wealth, Luzy has built a thriving community where Latina professionals learn how to achieve financial independence, balance their careers with their personal lives, and break free from the limiting beliefs around money.