I made the decision in 2022 to seek out a therapist who looked like me. It was a landing spot I’d long yearned for—someone who could show up for me intentionally, a therapist who could relate to me as a multiply-marginalized Black person. I eventually found a therapist who could play this role in my life, and over the last year she has been one of my saving graces.
I initially sought therapy not because I was in crisis but because I knew I needed a neutral party to provide support that was helpful and healing. I was going through a lot, both personally and professionally. Unfortunately, at the time, I wasn’t getting what I needed from my inner circle, which was once a source of strength. I have always seen myself as a friend who shows up for people, and it hurt me deeply that I was not receiving the care I needed to sustain myself. I knew I had to do something for my own self-preservation. Sometimes, the “helper” needs help, and as someone who has never been reluctant to ask for help, I treated this moment as a reminder to acquire what my bodymind yearned for.
Going into my search for a therapist, I knew I wanted to escape whiteness in this part of my care. My activism began as part of my profession. I started by discussing disability from an intersectional lens to other social workers. And as a social worker who once desired to be a therapist, I am familiar with how racism and anti-Blackness function in our profession. Knowing what you want from a therapist is just as important as knowing what you don’t want. I knew I didn’t want to be in “teach” mode while on the proverbial therapy couch, and my tolerance for practitioners who aren’t culturally competent is nonexistent.
Due to my professional background and being a former client who received disability-related services, I have a keen sense of what to ask for when engaging professionals in authoritative roles, such as therapists and case managers. I am deeply aware of how ableism functions in these spaces and how it impacts multiply-marginalized clients. I wanted a therapist who understood my intention and who didn’t try to impose their own views on the kinds of support a disabled client may need or want. Finding the right match is difficult when you realize that the teachings therapists receive are often outdated, and this shapes the way they engage with the marginalized communities they set out to serve.
I have heard from countless disabled people who met therapists and related professionals who were ableist and ill-equipped to provide the support and care they needed. Given how hard it is to find a therapist (and a Black therapist especially), disabled people are often forced to decide if they want to try to maintain a therapeutic relationship that isn’t working. Many feel as if they have to settle for who they are because of how hard it is to find a therapist from their community. For example, according to the American Psychiatric Association (APA), only 2% of the estimated 41,000 psychiatrists in the U.S. are Black, and just 4% of psychologists are Black—and this has “life and death consequences” for Black communities.
Even if you find a therapist with a similar background, this doesn’t mean they will “get” you. Therapists and other professionals in related roles are still imperfect people—and they, too, should be held accountable if they do or say something that lacks awareness and care. The labor that multiply-marginalized people often have to do is inappropriate, and the harm that may ensue from these kinds of encounters should be taken seriously by those in the field.
I found the therapist I needed exactly when I needed her. One of the first friends I made as a disabled writer was nearing the end of her life. Finding a therapist in time to process my grief was my way of making sure I had the steadfast support I needed. When my friend died, my new therapist found an opening in her schedule so that I could process my grief and loss. Beginning our work together at such a difficult time showed me the depth of my therapist’s skills that were grounded in empathy, understanding, and a real sensitivity to the reality that loss is too common for disabled people. We often lose people who are young and have a lot of life left to live. This was certainly the case with my friend, and my therapist’s understanding of why this loss hit so hard made me feel safe and seen.
My therapist has displayed not only a competency in disability issues and disability justice—in part by being COVID-conscious, but she also has experience working with activists and movement organizers. These were important points of reference when I discussed outlandish moments I experienced in activist spaces and within my work. It is important to have a therapist who understands the context you’re operating in. In my case, my therapist typically has a story to share about other clients who experienced similar transgressions. I’ve come to deeply appreciate her insights because my line of work can be unfamiliar territory for many. Not having to explain all of the nuances of my life makes my therapy sessions feel less like “teaching” and more like healing.
Having a Black therapist has also made sharing cultural moments easeful. For example, we both went to Beyoncé’s Renaissance World Tour. Were we able to discuss not only our joy and fangirl moments, but also my frustrations with the inaccessibility I encountered. I shared with her the article I wrote for Prism about my experience, and she also noted some of what she observed at the concert—including the fact that there were no gender-neutral bathrooms at an event purporting to center Black queerness and culture. Having a therapist who instantly understands and can engage in these conversations is refreshing and rare.
None of this is to say that non-Black therapists cannot relate or that all Black therapists will relate. However, having a therapist whose lived experience grounds their client interactions makes a difference. Every time we have these moments, I am reminded why being steadfast in my criteria is important.
I am highly aware of the privilege of being able to “shop around” to find the right therapist. It’s something that I wish for everyone. The barriers to accessing mental health care are real, and there is plenty of research that shows how often Black people may experience cultural incompetence and other harms in therapy. Racism and anti-Blackness are ever present in the fields of psychology and psychiatry. Even my own profession—social work—has had to atone for the racism and whitewashing in the field. You cannot discuss these fields without also interrogating the harm experienced by communities that sought care and instead found mistreatment.
It is valid for Black people to feel hesitant to seek out these services because of the historical mistreatment we have collectively been subjected to by professionals whose oath to do no harm did not apply to us. This understanding is a driving force for many Black people who enter these fields; we have an understanding of the weight our presence carries. We are not just practitioners; we are shifting narratives around who can provide support, bringing more cultural competence to the field, and pushing against the stigma surrounding mental health and seeking care. Black folks—especially those of us who are multiply-marginalized—have created spaces and resources for members of our communities interested in accessing mental health care. Some of these resources include directories that list Black therapists and counselors to make finding a Black practitioner easier.
By prioritizing my emotional support needs, I’m already seeing changes in myself that are paying dividends this year. I’m grateful to have a therapist who has been a dynamic presence in my life. Seeking therapy isn’t shameful; it’s a necessary act of sustainment and a way to assert our personhood. I hope everyone reading this can get similar support. You deserve care, healing, and to be heard and fully seen.
Why finding a therapist with a shared background has been my saving grace is a story from Prism, a BIPOC-led nonprofit news outlet that centers the people, places, and issues currently underreported by national media. Please consider making a tax-deductible donation to support our work today.
