The Psychology of Representation: Part 3
Written by Dr. Fabrice Lubin
“If you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves.”
I once had a white therapist who specifically focused on couples therapy, and his office was as bland as a standard-issue football. Inside of it was the couch, a horrid shade of brown, the framed images hung crookedly from the wall describing nothing and affixed with as little intention as the subject they attempted to convey. Paul sat across from us with a yellow legal pad and bore witness to our struggles with the detachment of a lawyer deciding if he was a prosecutor or defense attorney.
The conflict within our marriage had brought us to the brink and into therapy. Metaphorically, I suppose, the office my wife and I sat inside was so concisely devoid of hope that we felt utter desperation seep into the shape of our arguments. The environment, threatening to our senses, made it necessary to interrupt and inquire if we could decorate Paul's office in exchange for a reduced session fee. Whether divine grace or dark humor, I believe that this atrocious “healing space” provided our marriage a much-needed enemy to retaliate against and saved us from annihilation. So severe was the ugliness of this space that it became the butt of our jokes outside Paul's office. Upon leaving our couples therapy, we felt relieved not because of all the pain we had unpacked, sorted, and moved through, but because it was like escaping a rapidly enclosing tomb. By this point in my professional career, I had been used to inhabiting uninspired healing spaces, whether it was a doctor's office, university counseling, trauma-focused inpatient units -- all of these spaces carried within it the same absence -- the artifacts, objects, and layout of these spaces bore no sense of the personality. Instead, many tried to make themselves as ubiquitous as possible, thereby settling into the indifference of a driver's license state facility.
What was more troubling is that this absence reflected an element missing from the therapeutic relationship itself. Working within a clinics and hospital environment, I encountered adult mental health "advocates" and "professionals" speaking like embittered police officers. Their cynicism permeated the air with crude jokes about their patients, references to "repeat offenders who were beyond saving”, and offers to trade clients that they found annoying or below their standards. In our final session with Paul, my partner and I became flagrantly upset and we began shouting at one another. After a few minutes of this intense back and forth, she abruptly left the session, leaving Paul and I alone. I sat on his couch, crying, while Paul motionlessly stared at me. Eventually, I stood up, so did Paul, and he proceeded to approach me with what I thought was going to be a supportive gesture. Instead, I realized he was fumbling to retrieve his credit card reader to process payment. We never returned to his therapy practice again.
I now understand: the absence was intimacy.
As much as therapists may wish to have neutrality, there is no neutrality. As bell hooks noted: "the personal is political." Therapy offices, hospitals, and wellness places reflect the structures, values, and guidance invested within it. Those (white) individuals who governed and led their organizations approached things with an aggressive homogeneity. It was comfortable to be neutral, to allow themselves to exist within an illusion of distance, and not reckon with systemic suffering and white supremacy. They did not have to consider whether their spaces were inviting to the BlPOC community, culturally vibrant, inspiring, or appropriated. These sterile environments perpetuate the belief that individuals experiencing mental health-related issues are fragile and hopeless. They may also replicate the same scenarios in which racially aggressive actions occurred — there exist countless examples of discrimination when BIPOC people seek professional and health services.
Therapy is an act of solidarity, trust and collaboration.
In my private practice space, we seek to create an environment where vulnerability is encouraged, culture is welcomed, and consent is paramount. We do this by loudly, proudly, and transparently asserting our cultural identities and the values we have towards dismantling oppressive dynamics. Our waiting room, for example, is designed to facilitate solidarity by encouraging those coming in and out of sessions to linger, rest, and pause. A typical waiting room is filled with magazines, television, or other ways to distract. We attempted to make a space where people could connect and share without having to pretend they're not seeking help. We play diverse music throughout the space, often wearing our cultural influences proudly, hoping to stimulate and remind people that healing can take place anywhere and can take on different forms. We foster the creation of groups that are peer-led and community-oriented. In my own therapeutic practice, I model vulnerability for my clients by bringing up my background and experiences of complex trauma-related to racism; by doing so, I open up a door of thought. An idea that previously may have felt forbidden: "maybe the problem isn't me, maybe the problem is within what surrounds me."
I have a metaphor that I share with my clients:
I want you to envision yourself as an orchid growing in the desert region. How well is that orchid going to grow in a desert? If this orchid is dying in this environment if it feels: malnourished, deprived, and neglected. Would yelling at this orchid work to make it grow? Would comparing the orchid to the cactus allow it to thrive suddenly? Is providing this orchid a thimble of water and some small shelter sufficient for it to blossom?
Ultimately, I ask:
Is it the orchid's fault?
And if it's not what is responsible for the orchid's death?
The answer is no.
It is not the orchid's fault or failure; it is the relationship in which the orchid has with its environment. No amount of chastising or telling the orchid to "pull itself up by its bootstraps" assists with its success. A racist climate is more than "unsuitable", it is outright hostile. Representation is more than merely being another "token" in the room.
It is an act of changing the environment in such a way that something new can grow. It is about providing an opportunity for supervision, modeling, mentorship, and leading. It is about understanding the nuances of experience and teaching others how to navigate through oppressive environments. It is about signaling to others that their dreams, values, and character are essential to shaping our world for the better. Creating the right environment isn’t about knowing what to “do” in every given situation. It’s about understanding what your values are and attempting to hold yourself accountable for bringing it out in the world.
As I write these words, I struggle with what it means to be a "professional." Will my words reach the minds of those I most want to hear them? What ingredients or magic am I missing to communicate to a broader audience? I worry that my tone pushes people out or that I'm not "smart enough" to talk about my own life experiences. Looking back at my life, I realize that I’ve been so dependent on the concept of “knowing” -- of being right. My experiences as a Black psychologist have taught me to rely less on “knowledge” and “correctness.”
Instead, I realize there is confidence in not knowing and the willingness to unlearn.
Embracing this uncertainty allows us to open up new dimensions and foster a reality not immediately present.
I renounce the elements I was instructed to be:
Objective
Neutral
Distant
I have no desire to fulfill those aims.
The psychology of representation means being transparently subjective: we wear our values on our skin.
The psychology of representation means engagement and social activism. We explore with our clients that the world out there is not neutral, passive, or beyond reproach. We are all active agents in the system, and all have our unique roles to play in grasping for a better world.
The psychology of representation means closeness and shared vulnerability. We relate to our client's struggles and do not place ourselves "above" their own experiences. We exist to provide spaces where sharing, expressing, and connecting is part of a healthy functional being.
The psychology of representation is inherently imperfect. We should not rob ourselves of continuous learning in fear of being seen as "wrong" by other white professionals or any other oppressive force that seeks to undermine the values of forgiveness, restoration and growth.
My words matter. My thoughts matter. My feelings matter. Your words matter.
Your thoughts matter. Your feelings matter.
I put myself out here at this moment.
I confront my avoidance.
I am representative of what is possible.
I never did go back to Paul.
Instead, we built a space for us.