Transcending Academia and Redefining Success as a First-Gen Latina
By: Sylvia Herbozo
I’m a first-generation, Peruvian American born and raised in Miami. My parents were unable to pursue higher education in their home country. After immigrating to the United States, they worked tirelessly to provide my sister and me with educational opportunities. They laid the foundation for what was possible.
Many would say I “made it” based on my accomplishments. A PhD in clinical psychology, postdoctoral fellowship at Yale University, and tenure-track faculty job. Yet, my academic journey was not without challenges. Through the twists and turns, I gained valuable lessons on gratitude, representation, grief, and purpose.
Walking Away from Tenure
During my early career years, I was grateful for my tenure-track faculty job. It allowed me to mentor the next generation of clinical psychologists. I focused on supporting my doctoral students and stayed optimistic when I faced challenges at work. But over time, it became more difficult to maintain the ethical standards of my profession under the leadership. Then, once I was eligible to apply for tenure and promotion, I couldn’t accept an unimaginable situation. I was blocked from tenure. I fought for it as much as I could. In the end, I resigned. I changed my career trajectory and left Los Angeles. It was a series of hard decisions that stemmed from what I perceived as a failure.
Pivoting and Advocating for Change
My perception of failure shifted after I moved back to Chicago to start my new career as a clinical faculty member. I fully recognized the systemic barriers that contributed to my tenure experience. I also realigned myself with Latino cultural values, such as collectivism and community, which I had drifted away from in pursuit of tenure. Not only did it help me feel more grounded in my work, but it also presented me with an opportunity for lasting change. I advocated for my white colleagues experiencing similar barriers at my prior university. My efforts to improve the tenure system were successful as my former colleagues became tenured faculty. They gained the prestigious recognition they deserved.
Creating Latino Student Pathways
I was often the only Latina or person of color as a doctoral student, postdoctoral fellow, and faculty member. It wasn’t until my career transition that I truly reflected on how I made it into my doctoral program — mentorship from a white faculty member and white doctoral student in the field of clinical psychology. Currently, only 8% of psychologists (APA, 2023) and 6% of tenured faculty (Matias, Lewis, & Hope, 2021) are Latino in the United States. We continue to be significantly underrepresented.
In 2020, I founded Psicólogos Latinos Avanzando Nuestros Servicios (PLANS), a grassroots initiative to increase the number of Latinos in clinical and counseling psychology doctoral programs. PLANS provides culturally aligned mentorship and community to Latino undergraduate and postbaccalaureate students pursuing careers as clinical and counseling psychologists. We have over 40 Latino psychologists volunteering to serve as mentors for our students.
To date, 30 of our students have accepted offers into psychology doctoral programs across the United States. Now, as a recently designated 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, PLANS will expand programming, increase access to mentorship, and offer more resources to our students.
Lessons Learned
My journey highlighted key lessons for me in academia and beyond. Although my experiences were in higher education, many of these lessons also apply to associations and nonprofits — especially for first-gen professionals and Latinas navigating career decisions, leadership, mentorship, and systems that weren’t built with us in mind.
Gratitude and growth can coexist. I was raised to be grateful for what I had as a first-gen. While this is an important sentiment, it was taken too far and held me back in my tenure-track faculty job. The university wasn’t a good fit well before my tenure experience. I tried to leave, but couldn’t get another tenure-track faculty job. I stayed until it got much worse. I realized I could be grateful for my job and want more for myself. Growth wasn’t possible until I decided I deserved better.
The impostor phenomenon isn’t just about the self. I prefer “impostor phenomenon” over “impostor syndrome” to avoid suggesting a clinical syndrome. In line with this phenomenon, I questioned whether I even belonged in a tenure-track faculty position after I resigned. The problem wasn’t my own shortcomings as I exceeded the tenure requirements. Instead, it was external factors that often don’t receive much attention. I eventually saw how institutions and systems cultivate feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy, especially for people of color.
Representation in mentorship matters. My amazing mentors were all white until the fourth year of my tenure-track faculty job. At that time, I was selected to participate in a one-year research program for underrepresented junior faculty at New York University. The program directors were two Black tenured professors. I found my voice in academia through their mentorship. They empowered me to advocate for myself in ways I hadn’t considered. I wanted to provide Latinos with similar mentorship sooner than I could access it. PLANS is a testament to the power of culturally aligned mentorship. This type of mentorship doesn’t just shape career trajectories. It also instills confidence and belonging in future leaders.
Grief comes in different forms. I used to mainly associate grief with the loss of a loved one due to death. In reality, grief can arise from any type of loss. My loss was twofold — my first career and beautiful life in Los Angeles. I worked hard for both. I was able to heal once I named my response as grief and allowed myself to mourn what I lost. Acknowledging my feelings without minimizing them was key for me.
Therapy is a transformative resource. From graduate school to tenure-track faculty, I often figured things out on my own. This made it hard to ask for help. I waited too long to seek therapy for the loss I experienced. I had confided in family and friends who were very supportive, but there was only so much they could offer. My Black therapist provided objective support and guidance while I processed my feelings. She had a significant role in improving my overall well-being.
Redefining career success may be necessary. My sense of failure was tied to my definition of career success. Since graduate school, I had accepted the pervasive message that success meant securing a tenure-track faculty job and earning tenure status. I couldn’t see another pathway to success until after my resignation. I reevaluated what was important to me, and I let that guide what came next. A different version of success followed.
I found meaning from my loss by leading efforts to break down systemic barriers in academia. While doors closed for me, I made sure to help leave them wide open for Latino students like me. This doesn’t “count” on my curriculum vitae, but it is what I am most proud of in my career.