Ode To Black Male Therapists
I found him through talkspace.
I was intentional about finding a black man as a therapist because I believed that this particular voice had been absent from my life. Sure, I had a hands-on dad and a logical brother, but they all had their patriarchal quirks and cultural biases.
I wanted someone who had been vetted in the art of understanding the human psyche.
And sure, I could’ve taken a shortcut. Ran to the male led podcasts and YouTube channels that give platforms to black men who otherwise don’t need one.
You know, those with more vocabulary than character.
Who monetize and weaponize pain for pleasure.
But I couldn’t accept that the voices I heard perpetrating harm to women that looked like me were the only ones that existed. Just because someone is the loudest in the room doesn’t mean they’re correct.
So I went hunting.
I’ve always only had female therapists. And there was always a degree of bias in their instruction.
I wanted to be called out on my bullshit.
But I wanted it done intelligently and from someone who had healed.
So, I found a black middle-aged man who had 13+ years of experience in psychology. Who was respectful, well-mannered, and honest. Most of all, he was kind.
Having a black male therapist is a form of rebellion for me. Proving that black men care about the mental health and well-being of a black woman without degrading her appearance or disparaging her for her mistakes is something I’ll forever be proud of. The trend of humbling, humiliating, and minimizing women of color to duty has been disheartening. Sentiments from men so angry with their own black mothers or previous partners that instead of healing, they publicly shame an entire race and gender that the world already hates.
In contrast, my therapist helped me navigate a world that told me I wasn’t good enough. A world that was cruel and unkind. He helped me work on me. He called me out on my stupidity, but he spoke life into me first. He bandaged me up, affirmed my place in this world, and recognized me as human.
After a few months of therapy, I made a conscious decision not to interact with men who tried to degrade me. This had been a stumbling block on my road of development since my college years. I always had an answer, always had to respond to try to prove my worth. I’ve come to recognize the beauty of silence. And the silent rebellion and appraisal that happens when I choose to walk away.
For example, the VP of my department at my old job called me into a meeting to let me know that despite my qualifications, background, and dedication, he wouldn’t be giving me a raise. Not because he couldn’t (because he had done this for others) but because justifying it to HR was out of the way and would take months.
I quit the following week because a Fortune 500 company thought differently. They took one look at my resume and realized I wasn’t worth missing out on. I had a brand new job, a significant bump in pay, and a shiny new title in less than a month of that conversation.
A good therapist helped me to see my worth and navigate the sharks.
So, this is a public ode to black male therapists. So often in media therapists are portrayed as women. But the men exist too. And they’re qualified, unbiased, and unwavering.
A misconception is that, of course, therapists are dedicated because they’re being paid!
My therapist has often given me free sessions in periods of crisis. Like any person who truly loves their job, especially in health care, he has presented to me compassion and empathy. Traits not commonly associated with men, particularly black men, as they are seen as rough and callous.
Today, I stand in the gap for black men in social work because they deserve to be seen. They are here. And I can attest they are damn good at their jobs.
