As a Black woman and licensed therapist, I’ve wrestled with a persistent question: How do I protect myself from harm while honoring my professional obligations?
This question has never felt more urgent than in today’s political climate.
We’re taught that the cornerstone of our work is to remain neutral—a “blank slate” for our clients. But for many of us, especially clinicians of color, that framework misses the mark.
How should I respond to the client who told me, “Black people are lazy and should go back to Africa?” Or the client I had who said they are voting a certain way because women should be “silent, barefoot, and pregnant”? How am I supposed to hold space for a client who denies my humanity with racist or sexist views? How does neutrality impact me—or the therapeutic process—when a client’s beliefs are fundamentally harmful?
The ethical guidelines around multicultural competence and non-judgmental listening that we’re trained in offer some direction. But these guidelines are historically rooted in perspectives that don’t understand the lived experiences of marginalized communities. These frameworks weren’t made with therapists or clients like me in mind—and they don’t always hold up in the face of real-world harm.
As I moved into private practice, I became more selective about the clients I work with. I’ve shifted from being a “bridger” who tried to empathize with everyone—even those whose beliefs were harmful to me—to being more of a “drawbridge.” Sometimes, I have the emotional bandwidth to engage with these tough conversations. Other times, I don’t—and that’s okay.
I recently attended MHM’s community workshop on Elections in the Therapy Space. After this discussion and hearing the experiences and challenges of my fellow clinicians, here’s my advice to therapists:
We Don’t Have to Endure Harm
We are not obligated to endure harm in the name of professionalism. We don’t have to sit silently while our clients express harmful views—whether those views are racist, sexist, xenophobic, or otherwise degrading. We aren’t required to swallow that harm just because someone is sitting across from us in a therapy room.
This isn’t about running from tough conversations. It’s about recognizing that staying in the room when someone denies your humanity does more harm than good. Self-preservation is not a sign of weakness—it’s a necessity.
Boundaries Are a Form of Self-Care
We’ve all heard that our clients’ needs should come first. But as therapists, our needs matter, too. Boundaries aren’t just something we teach our clients—they’re essential for us. Setting firm boundaries protects our mental and emotional health, and sometimes, that means stepping back from harmful conversations.
We’re allowed to refer clients out when their views or actions cross that line. Sometimes, the most ethical choice is ending a therapeutic relationship. Not every client is ours to carry, and protecting our energy is not just our right—it’s our responsibility.
Self-Compassion Is Essential
In a field that asks us to give so much of ourselves, we need to show up for ourselves with the same compassion we extend to others. That might mean limiting exposure to harmful rhetoric, taking a step back from toxic political discourse, or seeking support from other therapists who understand the toll this work takes.
Find your healing spaces. This might mean stepping back from social media, avoiding sources of painful language and messages, or seeking consultation rooted in diversity and your own needs and experiences.
Whether it’s therapy, supervision, or simply finding time to be with those who get it—who get you—give yourself permission to feel what comes up, rather than pushing it down in service of neutrality.
Find Your People
Community is everything. Surround yourself with other clinicians who share your experiences and values, especially those who understand the unique challenges of working with marginalized populations. These are the people who will affirm your worth, challenge the status quo, and help you build emotional resilience.
We don’t have to go through this alone. I’ve found that connecting with culturally competent therapists who share my experiences has been vital for my survival in this field. In spaces like these, we can have the real conversations we need—about race, politics, and the toll it all takes on us as human beings.
Push the Field to Evolve
Our profession needs to evolve beyond the frameworks we’ve inherited. Many of the therapeutic interventions we’re trained in were created by white men who did not consider the lived experiences of marginalized populations. These methods often miss the mark when it comes to cultural competence, leaving us to navigate complex and harmful dynamics without adequate tools.
It’s time we stop expecting therapists from diverse backgrounds to operate within systems that weren’t designed for us. We need more inclusive research, more culturally competent interventions, and a broader ethical framework that centers the well-being of both the client and the therapist.
We are part of the therapeutic process, too. Our voices, our well-being, and our humanity must be factored into how we practice. The more we push for this kind of change, the closer we’ll get to a profession that truly supports all therapists and clients, not just those whose experiences align with traditional, dominant perspectives.
What Now?
In the days, weeks, and months ahead—especially as politics continues to be a driving force in our clients’ lives and our own—let’s remember:
- We don’t have to endure harm. Boundaries are an act of self-care.
- Practice fierce self-compassion. Care for yourself the way you care for your clients.
- Seek out spaces that affirm and support you. Community is a source of strength.
- Challenge the field to evolve. Our work isn’t just about helping our clients; it’s also about transforming the sometimes harmful systems we work within.
Our profession asks a lot of us. But it’s okay to demand more in return—more support, more inclusivity, and more protection for our mental and emotional health. We deserve a field that takes care of us, too.
These past few months have been tough, but they have also renewed my commitment to use my voice to push for changes that will better serve both clinicians and clients—particularly those from marginalized communities. I hope you’ll join me. Thank you for the work that you do.
