I’m a Black Therapist…& Yes, it matters.

I’ll be honest with ya here...this is the first post I’d ever dreamed of writing and putting out there, but here I am, two posts later and several days late, staring at my cursor, in fear, like it’s gonna smack me into next Tuesday. I’ve been procrastinating on this topic partly due to COVID, but also because I’ve experienced a mixed bag when it comes to others’ perspectives about this topic. But I’ve always been the “loud, troublemaker” in my family, so I might as well keep that theme going in my writing, too!

It hit me, like a sack of bricks, when I was in my second semester of Graduate school, during our mandated Diversity course when my non-black professor made the choice to throw the N word casually into conversation…and no, it didn’t end in an “a”. Their reasoning was that it was for educational purposes.,.“to provoke a conversation” with the students. Myself and my one other Black colleague, in the room, thought otherwise. It was in that classroom that I realized how important my role as a Black therapist was. Because it wasn’t just their language that shook me, but the knowledge that some non-black colleagues recognized they had a blind spot: they hadn’t heard the professor speak the word, at all, while some even validated the professor’s reasoning for using the slur. And this wasn’t the last professor, or professional I’ve met, to make this mistake…

Logically, I knew my role as a Black therapist would be important, it’s part of the reason I chose this profession. But it was in this encounter, along with many others along the way, that I realized just how necessary it was for Black clients to see themselves reflected in their therapists and mental health workers.

So back to why I was nervous about writing this. As therapists we’re required to go through cultural diversity training to become “culturally competent”. I’ve gotten into some cute little squabbles over the idea that because of this training “therapists are trained to work with everyone”; and I’m not arguing against this, some have assumed I mean that non-black therapists can’t work with us. In fact, I believe we all have the capacity to work with diverse peoples. HOWEVER, I do believe in eliminating as many blind spots as possible and providing a space for clients in which they feel seen, heard, and understood without shame, judgment, or stereotyping. And I firmly stand behind the idea that for the Black community, seeing themselves represented in their clinicians can be healing and empowering in such a profound way.

My girl Tennya Smith (Registered Associate MFT), put it beautifully:

“Black therapists are imperative to our communities because they help uplift us, advocate for us and reduce the stigma towards mental health. As an Afro-Latina associate marriage and family therapist, I find comfort in knowing that my identity does not need to be masked or hidden when reaching out for mental health services that are provided by Black therapists or therapists of color. The joining process that happens in this therapeutic setting allows for an individual not to feel like an ‘other.’ When that has been your lived experience, it feels nice to sit with someone who truly understands and gets it. I think that Black therapists are needed in order to promote healing within communities while holding a space for minorities, and encouraging change within individuals and their wider communities. Without this connectedness, it’s challenging for change to occur as a client may feel worried about stereotypes, prejudices, and not being fully understood.” (Insta: @_poetryncurls_)

My passion for my work comes from my own experience. I’ve experienced my own share of microaggressions from people in life and others in my field. They have their blind spots. I’ve heard accounts of clients reporting feeling judged, shamed, or stereotyped by their clinicians. It’s because of these stories that I advocate strongly for Black people who wish to try therapy, but are nervous, to find a therapist with whom they identify.

In training we learn about what I call “The Click”: that moment when the client feels like you, as the therapist, truly understand them and can empathize with their experience. In my opinion, “the click” consists of two very important things: trust and authenticity. The client has to feel comfortable enough to show their true selves, without fear of judgement or shaming. They have to feel comfortable navigating the “what ifs” in therapy.

Having a therapist of your own community removes a few of those “what if” moments: What if they don’t get my family dynamic? What if they don’t get ME? What if they’re stereotyping me? What if they don’t get my slang? What if I have to code switch so they don’t judge me??

Beneath that, we all understand the power of representation. There is a concept in therapy called modeling. As therapists, we, at times, model “appropriate” behavior whether it’s how to navigate conflict, how to manage stress, or how to simply sit with difficult feelings. When it comes to modeling, being able to internalize verbal or non-verbal cues from your therapist comes that much easier when your therapist identifies with pieces of yourself. If Angelina Jolie told me to manage my anxiety by taking a quiet moment to reconnect with myself and breathe, I’d be less likely to buy it when compared to Kerry Washington….y’know???

We’re relational animals, we thrive in packs. It’s why the family unit, biological or otherwise, can be so powerful. Healing is primal and having a Black therapist, as a Black person, only amplifies that process, as it taps into our core sense of self and sense of belonging. Again, I’m not saying that non-black therapists can’t work with Black people, I’m highlighting the importance of seeing pieces of yourself in your therapist: you see your skin, your hair, your nose, your lips, your turn of phrase. You don’t have to censor your words or explain what certain phrases or beliefs mean. You don’t have to justify or prove your experience of racism. We can look at one another, as you say “you know how Aunties can be” and just nod, because we get it. Familiarity Breeds Trust…and Trust is the framework for great therapeutic work.

And this work isn’t just for adults. I’ve had my share of Black clients under the age of 12 while working in schools as a Mindfulness Educator. I’ll never forget the little girls and boys who I connected with…their smiles…how they would find me after class…the looks we’d share in class…and the tightest hugs I’d get when I had to say goodbye for good. Children deserve to see themselves in their models (teachers, politicians, actors, musicians…and therapists!).   

This is what my girl Sydney Estrada had to say about her role in the field…

“Being a black woman in the mental health profession is extremely special to me. It’s special in a way that models resilience, courage and sacrifice. It allows me to be a positive figure for children of color who have a similar background as mine and who strive for more. I am so grateful that I am able to work in a field that I can provide children and families with resources that promote building stronger connections and bonds. Statistics claim that children of color are less likely to have strong protective factors and positive role models. However, if given the opportunity to recieve support from mental health professionals, like myself, that empathize with their experiences and come from similar backgrounds, children of color along with their families can cultivate protective factors that support them in overcoming any obstacle and lead them to success. 

Holding the title of a Child Development Specialist, trainee at an institution whose philosophy strives towards enhancing the family unit, reminds me of growing up in a home that was focused on love and supporting each other. My mother protected my siblings and I like a mother bear would her cubs. My step father did what he could to make sure that we can enjoy privileges such as Disneyland or Knotts Berry Farm. My older sister tagged us along everywhere she went and was the positive role model in striving for what we want in the educational system. My grandfather was the rock of the family, allowing the family to use his home as a bonding space where we felt safe.

The Black family’s bond and strength within family systems is underrepresented and misunderstood. You know that old saying “It takes a village to raise a child?” Well Black families live by that saying and will do anything to protect each other. Moral of the story is, despite what the statistics say, the family that I call my own is what got me where I am as a Black professional, within the mental health field, and continues to push me to be that representation for the Black community. Mental health professionals like Lauren, Tennya and I strive to let our resilience continue to be proof that with guidance and support from people we love and can relate to within the mental health field, we will continue to enhance our ability to overcome any and everything”. (Insta @sydbabee)

This work matters. I see it in my clients who can be their authentic, true selves, embracing their natural hair as they work with me. I saw it in the young Black girls I got to know when working in majority white schools, who would leave me little notes and find me on the playground to talk about their day or talk about their fresh braids. I see it in myself when I find myself code switching, in my OWN therapy and having found solace in my support group of amazing Black women therapists who allow me to be who I am. I’ll forever be grateful to the support they provide every single day! We deserve to be seen and heard. We deserve to see ourselves in our healers. Representation matters, Black clients matter…and yes, Black Therapists Matter.