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As a psychotherapist who identifies as a Black man, I look in the mirror regularly as a form of self-reflection and a challenge to see myself in my most honest form. How would I appeal to someone who looks like me and identifies as a Black man in this part of the world where I am often minimised, criminalised, scrutinised, racialised and ultimately penalised before uttering a word. What are the hurdles that I have to face to bring that man into my therapeutic space, and how do I ask him to jump, every single one, to get to the other side?Ìý

The barriers

What is it to be a man today? I mean, what are the rules and regulations guiding manliness today? The guidebook has been edited out of coherence; to be strong or not to be strong? To embody chivalry or stand back, to be ‘a real man’, whatever the hell that is now. No, we must embrace metro-sexuality, bend it like Beckham, with or without the sarong. The landscape is confusing and feels forever changed without clarity. This is the climate which a lot of men now inhabit.  Add to this, the identity of blackness; the otherness, the work twice as hard as your white peers and fingers crossed, the hyper sexualised label, the dangerous tag, the many masks to wear and the cultural expectations and responsibilities that defy the western evolution.Ìý

The stigma of therapyÌý

Therapy within the Black community has always been seen as a western luxury only affordable to those with time on their hands and money to burn. This is not for us; the language is not directed at us, but rather for European ears and sensibilities. It goes against the teaching of don’t talk inside the house, business and outside. The fear that by involving authority, you will be inviting the devil home. The history of Black men and authority is paved with institutionalisation and the grave, so why be a part of that statistic, no thank you.Ìý

It is also widely known that men seek medical help later than women, usually when a crisis hits or when that lump is now reaching critical mass. Sometimes, we do not even ask for directions, because as a man, I should know how to get around without help. Somewhere in the old guidebook, we were taught that this was a sign of weakness, a non-masculine trait along with crying or sharing your feelings. Now imagine adding cultural influences to the mix. The culture that says that men should be men and never complain. Gender roles haven’t evolved much in some areas, and the role of the man as the silent provider and protector still reigns supreme. How does the Black man reconcile being the protector with asking for help in coping with the mental health challenges he may face? How does he acknowledge that his imperfection will somehow render him less than a man?  It can be hard enough admitting this to yourself, let alone another person, even if the other person is a professional.Ìý

The effect of all of this is hypervigilance, stress and sometimesÌýan innate sense of not being seen. This leads to some mental health issues from depression and anxiety to suicide ideation, where the aim is not to end your life, but to end the pain that makes you feel hopeless about things changing.Ìý

The therapyÌý

There has been an increase in Black men seeking therapy over the past five years, I have noticed this uptick in my practice as Black men of African and Caribbean lineage have sought out my services. I attribute this partly to the George Floyd killing, and the subsequent unleashing of cocooned racialised trauma and the Covid 19 lockdown that allowed much reflection and space to acknowledge the pain and anger that lay dormant in some cases.Ìý

Why me? I often asked myself in the summer of 2020, as more people who looked like me explored the many counselling directories to seek me out. The answer, it seems, lay in what my supervisor later labelled me, ‘a unicorn’. That is a Black man in the psychotherapeutic profession; It seems we are as rare as the unicorn (I am, of course, aware that there hasn’t been a credible sighting of one outside a bedtime story!). I do not represent the dangerous authority or carry the baggage of judgment. There is an implied understanding that I also would have gone through the challenges they face, which to their eyes, makes me more qualified to work with men, Black men.Ìý

As an integrative psychotherapist, I practise Intercultural Therapy to better engage and establish the working alliance. What also helps is that I am seen as a real person who understands. The need for my clients to sit across from someone who looks like them, someone who can understand the cultural shorthand and the varied lexicon. As someone who has worked with men for the past 17 years, I have noticed and amended my practice to reflect a different way of identifying, connecting and ultimately reaching and helping this client group. Men’s emotional language differs from women’s and the depth of their emotions is not less intriguing or deserving of exploration.Ìý

The healingÌý

Healing starts with the admission of the issues, the acknowledgement that support is needed to attend to the sometimes-unidentified issue. Once this is done, the next challenge is to find a space where you feel you could help, and that’s why it is vital that there are spaces where these men can feel safe and welcomed.Ìý

I started a Black Men’s Group with a charity in 2020, and this still runs today as more Black men seek a space to be introduced to healing that is tailored to them. A space where the language is inclusive and doesn’t exclude the many ways to connect. In this group, we speak about loneliness, relationships, fears for the future, latent trauma, suicide ideation, and so much more. What I recognise in my years facilitating this group is that so many Black men feel they have no choice but to wear masks. A different mask for each context. The work mask, the relationship mask, the social mask, and sometimes the mask at home; with no solace.Ìý

The opportunity to provide the safety of spaces for Black men to seek emotional refuge is an honour and a privilege that goes a long way in soothing the inner child that once sought his own refuge in areas that didn’t see him or understand the subtle nuances of interculture.  Space where the masks can be taken off, and we can truly engage and see the person in front of us.Ìý

I now provide therapy with the mantra: meet them where they are at.

The relationship is the therapy. The connection beckons the healing. The ‘feeling seen’ holds the hand as a guide towards authentic acceptance and thriving.Ìý