Alexa Soto

INTERVIEW BIO WITH Alexa Soto

Tell me something about yourself that people think is surprising.

People often find it surprising that I’m not a very emotion-forward person. The way I express emotions looks different—I tend to lean into my more logical side and compartmentalize when I’m experiencing more activating feelings. I’m not a big crier. When I’m sad, I might shop. When I’m angry, I don’t yell—I’ll cook something very particular. It surprises people because it doesn’t match the way they expect emotion to look.What does it mean to find your emotions in doing?

It feels freeing. I used to feel misunderstood when I would share that I was sad but wasn’t crying, and it sometimes created a relational rupture. People didn’t know how to comfort me because I didn’t need a tissue or a hug—but I might need someone to tell me to stop adding items to my cart or gently redirect me. Over time, I’ve been able to name that my history and upbringing taught me to hide emotions and channel them elsewhere. I want to express emotions through intentional action.

I also like this because it gives people—both in my life and in my work—more space. If someone doesn’t feel like crying, they don’t need to force it. They can take stock of what they’re feeling and notice what comes naturally. Lean into that. Grab a cookie. Listen to loud music. Watch something comforting. It’s individual, and it’s okay if it doesn’t look typical.

What kind of therapy informs your approach?

My work is primarily informed by Acceptance and Commitment Therapy and relational therapy. With ACT, I think a lot about why a behavior exists, what function it serves, and whether a different behavior might better meet that same need. I’m drawn to the idea that you don’t need to change anything about yourself in order to be worthy of love or community—we only commit to change if it truly makes life easier or more spacious.

Relational therapy is also central for me. I enjoy creating a space where the relationship itself doesn’t have to look typical. You don’t have to cry—or stop crying—to talk to me. I like when clients ask what the expression on my face means, and when I ask what the twitch in their foot might be saying. I enjoy the mirroring and mutual curiosity that can emerge through relational work.

How is this meaningful for the clients you serve, especially Black and Brown women coming into new spaces?

Many of my clients wonder if they’re being selfish or if prioritizing themselves makes them look bad in other people’s eyes. We spend time untangling where that belief comes from—where they learned that other people’s perceptions matter more than their own.

I push against that in the space. Do what you want. Take your shoes off. Eat food. If I eat when I’m hungry, you can eat when you’re hungry too. At the end of the day, the decision you make is valid and enough.

Where do cooking and astrology have space in therapy?

There’s space for both, as long as they’re used as tools rather than rules. Astrology doesn’t have to be predictive to be meaningful—it can simply be a language for reflection and mirroring.

Cooking holds a similar meaning for me. Engaging with food—working with time, heat, and care—can shift patience, gratification, and how you feel in your body. Making something slowly creates a different experience than grabbing it quickly. Both astrology and cooking invite curiosity rather than performance.

If I had to describe myself as a therapist through a type of cuisine, it would be Thai food. There are many flavors at once, and each bite is a little different. I bring a flexible base, and the work is shaped by the client. The base is me; the toppings are my clients.

How does queerness show up in your work?

I think everyone is a little queer—not necessarily sexually, but in the sense that everyone carries something that sits outside the norm. Queerness, for me, is an orientation toward freedom. It’s permission to question inherited rules and decide what actually fits.

I’m especially drawn to clients navigating identity formation—gender, sexuality, work, relationships, or simply how they want to live. I love working with people who sense there’s something in them they haven’t fully named yet. That space of exploration and not-knowing really interests me.

What is your universal piece of advice?

Let me be.

It creates distance between myself and others’ perspectives and reminds me to let people explore, grow, pause, or change on their own timeline. It also reminds me to honor my younger self, my future self, and who I am right now. Let me be, and let myself be. Honor all of it, and notice what you orient toward most.