Black Women Deserve Therapists Who Look Like Us
How unconscious bias plays a pivotal role in therapy’s effectiveness
Her office was always draped in heavy, dark curtains. The air was musty, perhaps because the emotional support dog frequently napped in the corner.
Where I come from, animals aren’t kept indoors, so the scent of wet dog clinging to the linens was new. The room, however, felt familiar. Maybe because it was filled with antiques, like British West Indian homes in the ’90s which were outfitted with Syrian rugs and Chinese porcelain figurines. Unfamiliar were the European-esque paintings, reminiscent of my therapist’s upbringing. The only thing missing was a painting of White Jesus, but she struck me as more of an atheist anyway.
She sat opposite me in a wide-armed chair. Her pale, friendly face was slim and sunken. She was fit despite her age, or at least I thought she was. I could have simply equated thin with fit, or White and thin with fit. I always imagined her jogging at 7 a.m. with her phone strapped to her arm, her straight blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, swinging from side to side like a pendulum, just like on television.
Perhaps I’d begun to judge her too quickly. It had only been a few weeks ago after all. But how could I not; I was about to divulge my deepest…
