The Unspoken Curriculum

What I learned about belonging from watching words and behavior collide

I grew up Mormon. Or more accurately, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I grew up in Inwood, going to church on Sundays and several times throughout the week for activities, service, and youth programs, always sharing proudly that I was a Christian. My parents and extended family were deeply involved, many as leaders. Our immediate church community was Dominican, alongside Honduran, Ecuadorian, and other Latino families. What united us was immigration, faith, and the shared hope that this country would give us something more.

We were all building something new, assimilating while quietly creating a culture of our own.

It is hard not to reflect on my upbringing now because it shaped so much of who I am, how I think, how I show up, and what I instinctively do without giving it a second thought. Growing up in a religious community was not easy, and I imagine that is true across many faiths. Institutions often present themselves as places of joy, order, and moral clarity. They advertise happiness through shared principles and ideals. But eventually, you begin to see that people are still just people, imperfect and layered, shaped by both their past and their present

My moment of awareness came not through what people said, but through their behavior. I used to hear people say, “I am a child of God,” which is also the title of a hymn. It was often said to remind you of your divine purpose. But what I noticed over time was that although these statements were spoken regularly, the behavior did not always match. You imagine someone devoted to helping others and leading with kindness. Yet sometimes the very same words came from people dressed sharply, whether from Macy’s or the Salvation Army, who would then mock others or make loaded statements that did not align with the belief system they publicly claimed.

That is when I learned that faith is not made up of perfect people, but of imperfect people trying to rise into whatever meaning they give to goodness and truth.

As institutions become central to your life, literature becomes guidance, doctrine becomes direction, and small groups become everything. What I witnessed over and over again was how support often flowed most easily to those who looked alike, moved alike, or felt familiar. Proximity became currency. Similarity became safety. This was not unique to the church. Once I began to see it, I could not unsee it.

So let us take church out of it for a moment.

Look at boardrooms. Leadership often reflects the same narrow pipelines, the same schools, the same networks, the same access points. Look at academia. The group mentality repeats itself there, too. Different setting, same structure.

What I did not understand as a child, but see clearly now, is that the church and many other institutions teach an unspoken set of social skills. Not the ones written in doctrine or manuals. The hidden language of hierarchy. Who is allowed to shine. Who is invited in. Who is kept safe. Who is lifted higher.

You learn quickly who belongs to the inner circle and how.

Due to personal reasons, I eventually stopped attending the Mormon church. I carry great respect for it, and I am forever grateful for the life lessons I learned through that community. There are truths I hold in my heart to this day. One of the deepest is this: no matter if you scream a statement or whisper it, the true conviction of your beliefs is rooted in behavior, in what you do for the benefit of others and not just for yourself.

The desire for belonging is something we all crave. We often learn it by watching systems of hierarchy and patterns of social climbing. We chase it, and sometimes we even reach a level we once dreamed of. But what we often realize after arriving is that we are still just people. And sometimes, the very people who welcome you in are not the people you want to become.

Be someone you are proud to be, whether you are climbing alone or being supported by others. Let your pride come from your integrity. Too many people give up their values in exchange for belonging, for status, or for a name that sounds important. And if you ever doubt that, all you have to do is watch the news and see how easily wrong is called right, and how many turn away from what they know is true.

This is not bitterness. It is awareness.

Awareness of how institutions shape us. Of how communities can both nurture and limit us. Of how power often moves silently through familiarity and proximity, not just through merit or goodness.

And perhaps the hardest part of growing up is realizing that faith, systems, and belonging are far more complex than we were ever taught to believe.

A Mental Health Anchoring Plan for People Who Long to Belong

1. Begin With Awareness, Not Shame

Goal: Separate your need for belonging from your sense of worth.

Belonging is a human need, not a weakness. Wanting to be seen, included, and protected is something we all carry. The harm begins only when belonging becomes more important than self-respect.

Practice:

• Write this affirmation and return to it often:
  My need to belong does not mean I must abandon myself.

• Notice when you feel the urge to shrink, perform, or agree just to stay included.

• Name it silently: This is my longing for safety speaking.

Awareness is the first form of protection.

2. Learn to Distinguish Words From Behavior

Goal: Protect yourself from emotional confusion and broken expectations.

You learned early that people often speak beautifully about faith, values, and purpose while their behavior tells a different story. That disconnect can create deep emotional dissonance.

Practice:

• When evaluating relationships or groups, ask:

  • How do they treat people with less power

  • How do they speak when no one is watching

  • Who is protected and who is discarded

• Trust behavior more than intention.

• Let consistency build your trust, not charisma.

This lowers anxiety and prevents emotional betrayal.

3. Detach Your Identity From Hierarchy

Goal: Stop measuring your worth by your position in systems.

Hierarchies quietly teach that being chosen means you matter. This is one of the most painful lies institutions pass down.

Practice:

• List what systems reward you.

• Then list what makes you valuable outside of those systems.

• Ask yourself regularly:
  If no one applauded me, would I still respect myself today

Your nervous system deserves safety that does not depend on status.

4. Build Belonging in Small, Honest Places

Goal: Create a real connection without performance.

Large institutions often reward image over truth. Healing belonging comes from smaller spaces where you do not have to prove your worth.

Practice:

• Seek relationships where you can:

  • Disagree safely

  • Be imperfect without punishment

  • Be quiet without disappearing

• Choose depth over access.

• Let your inner circle be people who benefit from your truth, not your usefulness.

This stabilizes emotional health and self-trust.

5. Create a Values Boundary

Goal: Prevent the slow erosion of your integrity.

Your essay holds a powerful truth: many people slowly loosen their morals to stay included. This creates long-term anxiety, guilt, and identity conflict.

Practice:

• Write 3 non-negotiable values that guide your decisions.

• Before making major choices, ask:

  • Does this cost me my integrity

  • Am I choosing this for safety or for truth

• If you feel chronic unease after gaining access to a space, pause.

Peace in the body is often the first sign of alignment.

6. Release the Fantasy of Perfect Belonging

Goal: Free yourself from the illusion that any system will fully save you.

No institution, church, workplace, or title can fully meet your longing to be fully seen. When we believe they can, we hand over too much power.

Practice:

• Let belonging be layered:

  • Some spaces nourish your work

  • Some nourish your spirit

  • Some are temporary

• Not every space that serves you must hold your whole heart.

This protects against emotional collapse when systems fail.

7. Measure Yourself by Who You Are Becoming

Goal: Replace social climbing with self-becoming.

The deepest healing shift is moving from “Where do I fit” to “Who am I becoming.”

Practice:

• At the end of each week, ask:

  • Did I act in alignment with my values

  • Did I protect my integrity

  • Did I extend humanity without abandoning myself

• Let your pride come from character, not access.

Belonging that costs your spirit is too expensive.

8. Honor Grief for What You Lost

Goal: Acknowledge the emotional cost of leaving systems.

Leaving institutions, faith spaces, or long-held identities carries real grief. Even when it is the right choice, your body still mourns the loss of certainty and protection.

Practice:

• Allow sadness without self-judgment.

• Write letters you never sent to the versions of yourself that once believed differently.

• Let gratitude and grief live in the same breath.

This prevents unresolved emotional looping.

9. Anchor to Service That Does Not Perform

Goal: Reclaim goodness without an audience.

You learned that real belief lives in behavior. One of the strongest mental health protections is quiet, unperformed service.

Practice:

• Do small acts of care that no one will ever applaud.

• Measure your goodness by who benefits, not who sees.

• Let your nervous system learn that goodness can exist without approval.

This restores self-trust.

10. Redefine Belonging as Self Loyalty

Core Truth:
Belonging does not begin with being chosen by others. It begins when you refuse to abandon yourself.

A grounded definition:

• I belong where I can be honest.

• I belong where my integrity is not a liability.

• I belong where my humanity is not conditional.

And most importantly:

• I belong to myself first.

I wish I could tell you that I no longer feel the need to belong, but that would be a lie. I still think about the sister in Sunday school who told me I was a child of God, only to later call me something ungodly while praising others in the same breath ( she didn’t know I overheard her, but I remember). It takes years to undo that kind of contradiction, to unlearn the instinct to seek validation from spaces that quietly wound you. And just when you think you have healed it, it happens again, only this time not in church, but at work. Or in a parent committee where you are politely pushed out. Oh, I have stories for days in that realm.

Here is what I have learned. You might feel like you do not belong, but you do. You really do. Getting there takes deep self-love, constant inner dialogue, and sometimes blasting your favorite song while screaming fuck that noise just to hear your voice drown out the rejection. Because the truth is, you are one of one. And if you made it this far, you and I already belong.