What It’s Like to be a Black Millennial Therapist
There’s so much to celebrate when it comes to mental health these days. More and more people seem to be seeking out therapy services, including Black folk, and the public discourse around mental health and coping is becoming more and more nuanced. However, the people behind therapy (therapists!) seem to still be full of mystery, so does the process itself.
I once had an appearance on a popular podcast called The Friend Zone, which I like to describe as a place of mental health refuge created for and by Black people. It’s wonderfully funny and unapologetically Black, all with wellness inspiration at its core. For that episode we discussed mental health in general, and other random things like what I might do if I ran into a client at the club (you’ll have to listen for the answer!).
That experience reminded me that many people fear seeking out therapy due to the unknown. For many of us to feel safe in a space like therapy, we need a better understanding, a peek behind the curtain to know that it can be a space built on trust and healing. And due to the historical traumas perpetuated by healthcare, many Black folks don’t view health providers with a profound level of trust. I hope to change that.
Here’s what it’s like being a Black millennial therapist.
Social Justice Underscores Everything
While psychotherapy traditionalists might frown upon this, the reality is that social justice and politics are a part of many of my conversations as a Black, millennial therapist. While we all logically know it’s impossible to divorce ourselves from the contexts in which we live, much of traditional psychotherapy seems to do just that: see people and their symptoms in isolation. However, with my training and lived experiences I know better.
I know that when a Black man enters my office he’s not just taking a step to take care of himself; he’s also balking at a slew of external messages about it means to be Black, what it means to be a man, and this what it means to be a Black man. That’s a tall order before even getting into the “work”. That’s not to mention that many of us don’t have well-established histories of exploring vulnerability safely, let alone with another man.
The issues of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and ableism are often present in sessions with clients. Not talking about the impact of the isms in the therapy space, and the impact on mental health, is willfully ignorant and in many cases, harmful. How can we expect clients to trust us if we’re not talking about the realities of their lived experiences? How can we feel safe as members of oppressed groups if we also feel implicit pressure to not talk about our true fears and frustrations on a daily basis?
Silence about these things continue to perpetuate the power differentials that play out in real life outside of the therapy space.
This means that as a therapist I periodically find myself venturing into politics on occasion, which is kind of a “no-no” in therapy. As I think back to my ethics professor from grad school, I’m sure she would have plenty to say about that. After all, it’s ethically problematic to impose our values (as therapists) onto clients. That means that for me, as a Black therapist, these conversations are often VERY tricky. How do you affirm and validate one’s lived experience, pain and frustration without coming off as if you’re advocating for a certain agenda? I don’t know if there’s a good answer to this for me. But I make it very clear to my clients that I’m a pro-equality, sex positive, queer and kink affirming anti-racist therapist who isn’t here for internalized messages of shame. I see it as my duty to help chip away at that. Unfortunately, that also means that I’m not the best fit for many folks. Being a Black therapist means coming to terms with that, and its impact on my business.
Humor Will Be A Part of Therapy…so will Beyonce!
Google recently released a video of some of the most searched pop culture moments of the past decade and it was Black…like SUPER Black. In my work with clients I often find that we refer back to what seem like ubiquitous Black experiences and cultural moments such as Beyoncé’s lyrical empowerment or the complicated feelings around Tyler Perry’s latest work.
These conversations are not just about how someone may or may not be in the Hive, but more so about how these cultural benchmarks impact my clients’ lives. It gives us a shorthand to draw analogies and talk through issues. We use Watchmen as a window into the emotional impact of government and police corruption and how Maxine Shaw (Attorney at Law!) and her independent streak is both admirable, and lonely when you actually live it day in and day out.
I must not forget to talk about Black Twitter. I like to think of Black Twitter as a reflection of the breadth of the Black experience in real life, but magnified. In session, me and clients may discuss how both helpful, and harmful, humor online can be. We often discuss how communities like Black Twitter help clients see reflections of themselves and feel a little less alone.
And, yes sometimes it means talking about Race
While it’s helpful to vent to your friends about micro-aggressions or micro-invalidations that you encounter in the workplace (or in life more broadly) there is a lot of power in having a professional validate your experience as a visible racial-ethnic minority. A lot of my personal validation came from my own training in graduate school as professors of color (mostly) talked about the impact of race-based stress on mental health. Suddenly I felt affirmed as a person, and equipped as a counselor to help clients label their own experiences, process them and gain important validation when we’ve been taught socially to not question racism (and sexism, homophobia, etc.) that we encounter in our lives.
Being a therapist is a rewarding, inspiring and sometimes exhausting experience. Being able to champion people through difficult periods in their lives is a great gift. There’s a special impact when I know that I’m working with clients who look like me and are working to break generational curses or traumas in my therapy office. Overall, it feels empowering to walk in my purpose as a Black therapist and I hope that as time goes on there are more and more people who look like me entering therapy, and the field as professionals, to continue to share the knowledge and aid those in the process of healing.
