Therapists who identify as queer people of color, like me, are few and far between. As a result, women of color (WOC) and LGBTQ+ people of color (POC) often take a keen interest in my mental health advocacy. I am routinely asked for advice about how to find WOC and LGBTQ+ POC therapists, in particular, and many also inquire about my availability. In response to the latter question, I began to notice over time that sheer disappointment washed over some folks’ faces whenever I shared that I don’t currently practice therapy.

“Surely, I can’t be the only like-minded therapist out there,” I always think to myself. But for many, I am.

Findings from a 2013 study revealed that White Americans comprised 83% of psychologists, while representation of Black Americans stood at 5.4%, Latinxs at 5%, and Asian Americans at a mere 4.3%. Native Americans — a demographic that researchers routinely disregard because of cultural erasure — were not even accounted for (despite Native American youth having the highest rate of youth suicide, by ethnicity). Likewise, WOC and LGBTQ+ POC psychologists, as well as therapists of all types, are also underrepresented, both in research and in the field. This invisibility has alarming implications.

Findings from a 2013 study revealed that White Americans comprised 83% of psychologists.
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For one thing, research on race-matching in therapy suggests that for some clients, sharing a minoritized identity with a therapist may reduce guardedness, mistrust, and self-consciousness. Yet, the dearth of WOC and LGBTQ+ POC therapists means that clients from these backgrounds often face an uphill battle searching for a cultural match along the lines of race, gender, and sexuality. Add to this the fact that rates of depression are higher among WOC and LGBTQ+ POC, compared to cis-hetero (cisgender-heterosexual) men of color and White people who identify as LGBTQ+.

For these reasons, I created this resource about therapy, specifically for WOC and LGBTQ+ POC. My aim is to share the most frequent question asked of me: “How do I find a therapist who ‘gets it’?” These four simple questions can help you do just that.

1. Why do you do what you do?

Pro-tip: If you ask a therapist why they got into counseling, and they reply, “I just wanted to help people”…run.

The “I just wanted to help people” type of therapist is what I call a general practitioner. They can surely support you with one-size-fits-all interventions that aren’t culturally specific. But when it comes to addressing mental health stressors related to identity and oppression, they usually overpromise and underdeliver. Rarely, if ever, have these therapists demonstrated a strong, unwavering commitment to centering underserved communities in their work.

Furthermore, these “I just wanted to make a difference” therapists will sometimes subject you to their self-serving savior complex. Their motivation for working with minoritized communities is often not rooted in a genuine interest in social change, but in ego and pity, instead. As a result, many disregard a core principle of cultural humility: that impact trumps good intentions. Failing to recognize their own blind spots and implicit biases can lead to some very awkward and offensive interactions. Don’t be their “cultural competency guinea pig.”

2. How do you do what you do?

Pro-tip: If a therapist can’t cite the spiritual healers, philosophers, theorists, therapists, or even revolutionaries who inform their work…run.

Every therapist informs their work with one or more theoretical orientations (i.e. “standard interpretive frameworks” and “philosophical assumptions” that guide interventions). Cognitive behavioral therapy, or CBT, is probably most well-known. Feminist therapy, which is particularly affirming of WOC and LGBTQ+ POC, is much less mainstream, on the other hand.

The good news is that clients can exercise the right to request feminist therapy, or any other orientation. In fact, you could ask your therapist to get familiar with any school of thought or healing practice that supports your goals, no matter how “alternative,” non-Western, or unempirical. Simply ask, “How do you do what you do? Could you please describe your preferred theoretical orientation(s), as well as your willingness to consider other approaches? ”

WOC and LGBTQ+ POC rarely assert their needs in therapy, especially to White, cis-hetero therapists. But closed mouths don’t get fed.

3. Who and what informs your understanding of oppression?

Pro-tip: If a therapist can’t define intersectionality, or, at the very least, make an educated guess…run.

During therapy sessions, intersectional feminists often find ourselves pausing after every sentence to explain social justice terms like positionality and rape culture, and concepts like “the personal is political” and “prejudice plus power.” On top of that, we’re burdened with unpacking the historical context around myriad forms of internalized oppression, as well as nuanced intracommunity issues. WOC and LGBTQ+ POC get into these predicaments partly because no one encourages us to screen the politics of our therapists.

Often, we just take a chance on new therapists. We simply pray that they will share our awareness of structural intersectionality, and the language that we use to makes sense of it. But the only surefire way to gauge whether a therapist is equipped to meet you where you are, is to ask, “Who and what informs your understanding of oppression?”

Be sure not to settle for run-of-the-mill answers about cultural competency workshops, either. Ask what you really want to know, like whether they are familiar with the work of certain feminist scholars of color, or if they follow certain blogs, podcasts, or activists on social media. Only the most thorough and specific answers will clue you in to their learning curve.

If a therapist can’t define intersectionality…run.
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4. How will you hold space for me when we discuss my oppression?

Pro-tip: If your therapist isn’t willing to lean into discomfort…run.

According to author Heather Plett, “holding space for someone” means bringing your entire presence to them, and walking alongside them on their journey, without judgement. She suggests eight tips for holding space, including: “give people permission to trust their own intuition and wisdom,” “don’t take their power away,” “keep your ego out of it,” “give guidance with humility,” and “create a container for complex emotions, fear, trauma, etc.”

When you settle for therapists who can theorize about oppression, but not process the emotional texture of it, you settle for therapists who cannot hold space for you. Almost always, these therapists will shift the focus from your needs, to their countertransference of defensiveness and guilt. It often looks like being tone-policed, treated like a know-it-all, mocked as a “social justice warrior,” schooled about non-existent “reverse” -isms, or even pressured to apologize because of your therapist’s tears.

Moreover, a therapist who cannot separate their work from your work, especially your anger, is not mature or skilled enough to do engage with you about oppression in healthy and affirming ways. Holding space for you should always be a therapist’s first priority, even if leaning into the discomfort of their privilege means leaning into your rage.

As writer Amy Dentata penned, “People often say ‘stop being angry and educate us,’ not understanding that the anger is part of the education.”

4 Self-Care Practices For When Working As A Woman Of Color Has Got You Down

Practicing self-care at work, or in response to issues at work, can be the difference between feeling hopeless and isolated or inspired and optimistic.

flickr/WOCinTech Chat

By Alisha Acquaye

Originally published on Everyday Feminism.

Self-care is the battle cry of our generation. It is a realization that — in order for us to be better activists, feminists, and friends — we have to take time out to check in with ourselves, heal wounds, and feel loved.

It is especially significant today as we socially, politically and culturally exist in a war with a goal of dismantling the white heteronormative patriarchy and achieve true human rights and equality.

Self-care is a testament to the ability to understand, nourish and identify with our complex, layered and ever-evolving selves. It is a self-centering decision to acknowledge, address and cater to our bodies needs — spiritually, emotionally, physically, mentally and more.

I’ve been intentionally practicing self-care for a few years now, first starting by cleaning and clearing my mind, evaluating friendships, and recognizing personality and relationship patterns.

But, more recently, I’ve been considering how to practice self-care in response to toxic or traumatizing experiences and environments.

Self-care is the battle cry of our generation.

As you’ve read in my last articles, working as a black woman in predominantly white offices can be mentally and emotionally exhausting.

While working on this series, I began thinking deeply about how women of color and marginalized identities can practice self-care when they find themselves in these environments.

When I felt alone, exhausted by microaggressions, or undervalued or frustrated at work, I developed a few self-care methods to cope:

• Arriving early to enjoy breakfast and a cup of tea in the silence of the office.
• Scheduling lunch or coffee dates with other people of color or employees I wanted to learn from.
• Going for walks or taking trips to the roof during my breaks.
• Planning trips, which gave me something to look forward to on long weekends or holidays.

Most significantly, I formed a group of close friends of different backgrounds and sexualities who gave me even more life. We held each other down, provided support and offered billions of laughs.

We validated each other when we endured daunting racist, sexist or ageist experiences at work and inspired one another to take on new projects or assert ourselves in our teams.

Most of all, we made each other feel less alone: we were reflections of each other that affirmed one another’s existence and importance.

I found that these remedies — especially my friends — guided me towards more positive outlooks and peace of mind, which, coincidentally, helped me refocus on what I was really passionate about: the work I was doing, and the next chapters in my career.

Practicing self-care at work, or in response to issues at work, can be the difference between feeling hopeless and isolated or inspired and optimistic. It can help you refocus and realize what you value in your work experience and how to obtain it.

While writing this, I realized that not everyone has access to these self-care solutions and even less may have strong friend connections at work. So I wanted to explore different steps that people can take to care for themselves and make a difference in their communities. Here are four of them:

1. Engage in passions and projects that reaffirm your greatness.

One of the best decisions I’ve made as a post-grad working girl is signing up for writing classes. As writing is what I do for a living, it can sometimes feel like a job and less like a passion.

Writing classes — especially creative writing ones — allow me to exercise my imagination and strengthen my talents as a writer. The result: empowerment and freedom.

Going to work can be that much more daunting and depressing if you’re not only experiencing microaggressions but on top of that, aren’t in love with your job.

For those whose work doesn’t align with their passions or whose job is for survival and not creative stimulation, participating in projects or activities outside of work can be instrumental to your emotional health and confidence.

For this reason, one of the keys to self-care lies in impressing yourself, harvesting your talents and energies into something that’s meaningful to you, and watching yourself excel.

It’s especially important for women of color, LGBTQIA+, people of different abilities and more, to find creative outlets that empower them and strengthens their skills and confidence.

It’s one step to being better leaders and more expressive and assertive professionals. It’s going after what you want and recognizing your power and potentials.

2. Find a mentor — or become one!

One of my long-term goals is to find a mentor who can help guide me on my professional journey. Ideally, I’d love for her to be a Black woman who works in media, who understands the challenges of having an intersectional identity in professional spaces and who’s learned to navigate these setbacks in exponential ways.

Of course, I’ve had several mentors of different genders and backgrounds who have assisted me personally and professionally, but I imagine a bond with a Black woman mentor would feel more personal and inspiring.

How To Survive A White Workplace As A Person Of Color

Mentorship is a transformative force in marginalized communities. Having a role model who looks like you and has achieved something you aspire to makes your dreams feel more possible, tangible.

If you’re able, I also encourage you to become a mentor. Being a mentor to someone else is just as important as having one of your own. It’s a small but significant way of giving back to your community and helping another person reach their potentials.

3. Organize meetings to address workplace microaggressions

It is no secret that women and people of color can experience microaggressions at work, ranging from someone inappropriately touching your hair to a male coworker belittling or ignoring your ideas.

The challenge, however, is addressing these issues in a healthy and productive way.

Sometimes, talking to your manager or privately confronting a coworker isn’t enough. And as a marginalized person, taking this action can feel like our jobs are at a greater risk than the person who inflicted the microaggression.

Mentorship is a transformative force in marginalized communities.

A coworker at my last job — a Black woman — took initiative by organizing inclusivity workshops for the whole company to attend. To be sure, this is not an easy responsibility, but the payoff can lead to productive conversations and greater awareness of office issues.

Meetings and workshops can also be safer alternatives to speaking to a superior or confronting an employee directly. It opens space for conversation without having to put yourself on the line.

If you do decide to organize a meeting, it could be a great opportunity to discuss how to make company culture safer and more welcoming for marginalized people and strategize inclusive hiring methods.

4. Start meetups for women of color.

Self-care can mean building community or actively surrounding yourself with people who nurture your soul.

This year, I co-founded a bimonthly brunch series for my friends of color, where we share food and engage in conversations about self-care and our lives.

It has been the highlight of my year: not only do I feel a stronger sense of community with women of color in my city, I’ve also gained a renewed sense of leadership, therapy, and event organizing.

I have a friend who engages in dinners for Black women in media. She says that some of the highlights of these dinners is the shared community of expressing work and career-related frustrations, as well as the casual networking.

Not only does she feel validated and comforted, she meets people she can possibly collaborate with in the future.

Organizing a dinner, brunch, book club or any other social gathering for your specific groups and identities is a great way to strengthen your bonds in those communities.

The suggestions above are meant to serve as methods to empower and excite you when you’re down about work or try to eradicate office microaggressions you may face. However, they are in no way meant to entirely resolve any unhappiness, unfulfillment or discriminations you may experience in response to your intersectional identity.

Things can get really tough and, if they do, I hope you are able to consider finding a new job or going the entrepreneurial route — maybe you’re meant to create or start something new within your field.

Ultimately, I am no expert on self-care — I’m just a passionate self-care enthusiast. But there are many people who do have expertise.

Originally, I hoped to interview Gianne Doherty, a wellness maven, for this story, but unfortunately did not get her reply in time. She recently held her first W.E.L.L. Summit: a convention promoting self-care and inclusivity amongst women of color.

There’s also Lauren Ash of the Black Girl in Om podcast and initiative, who frequently discusses the importance of women of color practicing and implementing self-care into their daily lives.

Ash and Doherty are two wonderful resources who inspire me to use self-care as an innovative and personal form of resistance during these trying political and cultural times.

I hope you’re able to find peace and comfort — whether through my advice and others’ — especially in the one place where all you want to do is make money, or make a difference. After all, negative vibes and oppressive forces should never get in the way of stacking your paper.

]]> https://theestablishment.co/kids-misuse-of-the-term-racist-is-dangerous-so-let-s-disrupt-it-95235fb9a5fe-2/ Thu, 15 Feb 2018 20:39:26 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=3017 Read more]]>

Kids’ Misuse Of The Term ‘Racist’ Is Dangerous —So Let’s Disrupt It

An adult who is reluctant to clearly and effectively correct such careless and damaging behavior by children is complicit.

flickr/Texas.713

I f you regularly spend time with kids and adolescents in the upper and middle grades, there’s a good chance you’ve recently heard them use this phrase: “That’s so racist!”

As a parent, I’ve overheard kids using the phrase at my child’s school and during her extracurricular activities. The claim takes a variety of forms, including, but not limited to: intentional misuse as a joke (Child A: “Go stand by the white door.” Child B: “That’s so racist!”); intentional misuse as a joke that reinforces a negative connotation of the word “black” (Child A: “Let’s not play on the blacktop.” Child B: “That’s so racist!”); and accidental misuse that shows misunderstanding of the concept of racism (Teacher: “What do you notice about the kids in this photo?” Student A: “They are all white.” Student B: “That’s so racist!”).

I reached out to several other parent allies who I thought might share my concern, and over half of them had either directly heard children using the retort, or had learned about it from their child.

Whether uttered by adults or children, misusing the word “racist” reduces its legitimacy and dehumanizes the people who suffer from its real effects. No matter how subconscious or innocent, it is a strategy which re-appropriates the word according to the terms of the racial group that has been uncomfortably confronted about its role in systems of oppression.

Misusing the word ‘racist’ reduces its legitimacy and dehumanizes the people who suffer from its real effects.

Although we may be tempted to shrug these words off as immaturity and nonsense, they reveal real attitudes about racism to which kids are being exposed at home and in popular culture. Our current political climate has emboldened skeptics of systemic racism to openly dismiss it with claims such as #AllLivesMatter and #NotAllWhitePeople. Joining this chorus of doubters, adults who have never experienced real racism may sarcastically label a comment or behavior as “racist” to mock what they perceive as oversensitivity from people of color (POC). Current events highlighting our political and racial divides, such as those involving Colin Kaepernick or Jemele Hill, offer ample opportunities for white adults to consciously or unconsciously share these attitudes with their children. Putting air quotes around the term, rolling eyes, or using a sarcastic tone are behaviors that send a strong message to kids about how they can talk about racism.

Even if you don’t personally engage in these behaviors, kids are picking it up from discussions between other adults in real life or via mass media — and this shouldn’t go unchecked. By any measure, an adult who is reluctant to clearly and effectively correct such careless and damaging behavior by children is complicit in perpetuating a host of dangerous ideas.

Taking A Colorblind Approach Only Normalizes Whiteness

Adults’ failure to correct misuse of the word “racist” teaches children that talking about race, particularly about whiteness, is wrong.

The last example shared above is the only one where the child is actually responding to a real race label being used by her classmate. Student B’s accusation implies that simply talking about or noticing race is a racist act. This colorblind approach to race is not only unrealistic, but ineffective in combating racism, as explained in volumes of contemporary social science research and summarized in the article “7 Reasons Why ‘Colorblindness’ Contributes to Racism Instead of Solves It.” Noticing race is natural, and it’s not the problem. The problem is our conscious and unconscious biases about various races, which show up in the way we use, or do not use, race labels. When children flinch at the term “white,” and call it racist, it shows their buy-in to the normalization of whiteness as a default identity that needn’t be labeled. Talking openly about whiteness creates discomfort for white children unaccustomed to their race being named, disrupting the assumption that white is synonymous with normal. The article “Why Talk About Whiteness?” presents a succinct explanation for why refusing to use white as a race label disempowers us from fighting racism altogether.

Joking About Racism Is A Micro-Aggression

Tolerating kids’ use of the word “racist” as a joke is also disempowering and damaging to the wellbeing of children who identify as people of color.

Children of color are already at risk for loneliness and isolation in situations where they are a racial minority, as explained in the brilliant piece “27 Things You Had To Deal With As The Only Black Kid In Your Class.” Because POC are often accused of misinterpreting situations where race-based micro-aggressions have occurred (such as a white person’s surprise about their academic ability or how articulate they are), they grow up learning to just tolerate these offensive behaviors. Children may not have the ability to explain why joking about racism feels like a microaggression, or they may just choose not to call it out because it reflects behavior to which they have become accustomed. Often, the negative consequences of calling out their peers would override any real benefits, so they remain silent. Children of color may even be the ones jokingly misusing the term “racist” as a method for inclusion, since adapting to systems of oppression can often feel less taxing than fighting them.

We Need To Talk About Racism In Education

The Effects Are Cumulative

Allowing children to casually and frequently misuse the word “racist” diminishes the focus and concentration of children of color, resulting in an unfair educational playing field.

Researchers have been able to identify and measure the cumulative effects of micro-aggressions, especially how they affect task performance and therefore the achievements of their targets. Countless studies show that exposing humans to negative stereotypes about their group before asking them to complete a task results in measurable declines in performance. These findings are widely cited when explaining differential math and science outcomes for girls versus boys. Similarly, when a child of color who experiences real racism is constantly forced to dedicate emotional and cognitive energy to processing comments from white peers about racism, it reduces the energy they can expend on the task at hand. Reacting to these daily triggers and seemingly small behaviors adds up over time to disproportionately impact children of color in academic settings.

Many readers will balk at what appears to be over-sensitivity about this issue, and some will retort that policing the word “racist” is just another catalyst for a generation of snowflakes. If this describes your reaction, my guess is that you are white or white passing. It’s worth asking yourself if your racial privilege includes the luxury of thinking this just doesn’t matter.

Adults in the racial majority might be uncomfortable with this call to action because they never agreed to be complicit in systemic racism and they don’t fully understand their role in dismantling it. Here are some ideas to start with:

1. Commit to calling out race-based micro-aggressions, such as misuse of the term “racist,” as a crucial part of your role as a parent or teacher shaping the minds of the next generation.
2. Educate yourself. If you’re uncomfortable and inexperienced in this territory, kids can tell. Start by reading the short article ”How to Talk to your Kids about Race: A Guide for Parents” or taking a webinar such as “Let’s Talk! Discussing Race, Racism and Other Difficult Topics With Students.”
3. Be prepared. Memorize a phrase you can use so you don’t have to come up with one on the fly, such as “Hey (child’s name), when I hear the way you use the word ‘racist’ it makes me worried that you may not understand what it means. Can we talk more about it?” Use your script as an entry point for a brief age-appropriate discussion about how racism is dependent upon power, and why it’s not okay to joke about it. To help develop your own understanding, grab a copy of the book Is Everyone Really Equal?
4. Get decision-makers on board. Do some research and then contact your principal about in-depth training for teachers at your school from organizations such as Crossroads and Teaching Tolerance. Seek funding from the district or other sources and commit to playing an active role in making it happen.
5. Develop empathy. If you are a member of the racial majority, read up on the lived experience of those who find themselves in the position of being a racial minority in the classroom. The book Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together In the Cafeteria? is a great place to start.
6. Share this information. If you are a white parent trying to figure out your place in racial justice, consider joining Showing Up for Racial Justice Families to learn more about how you can spread information effectively within your own racial peer group.

Given our sordid past when it comes to showing up for people of color, folks with racial privilege must embrace our collective responsibility and get on board with working to eliminate oppressive language of any kind, including misuse of the word “racist” on school grounds and at home. Ignoring or excusing children’s casual, inaccurate, and excessive use of the term demonstrates lack of bravery and accountability, making us the exact kind of bystanders that anti-bullying curriculum warns against. Disrupting this behavior is part of our job as the role models and mentors of young people, especially for those of us with racial privilege and power. Now let’s get to work.

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