Decolonizing Therapy

What does it mean to decolonize therapy?

It’s a question rising like a tide in BIPOC spaces—whispers turning into voices as more BIPOC therapists step into the room and take up space. It’s a question rooted in lived experience:

‍Was this space ever meant for someone like me?

The truth? Yes—but with caveats.

Because while therapy can hold us, the systems it grew from often weren’t built with us in mind.

The systems and institutions we navigate today were not built with BIPOC culture, family dynamics, or ancestral roots in mind. Much of the foundational psychological research was conducted on whitemen. So how can this space fully support someone who is Black, Indigenous, Latinx, Asian, or from another marginalized background?

A therapist doesn't need to share your skin or story,
but they do need to care—enough to listen, enough to learn.
Enough to see that for many of us, family is everything.‍

Community is survival.
Tradition is medicine.

So when a therapist tells you to “cut off your mother” or to “stop eating rice,”
it doesn’t just feel wrong—it feels like erasure.

Therapy that honors culture doesn’t just make space for you;
it invites you in.
It understands that healing isn’t one-size-fits-all.
It knows that to be seen is the beginning of being whole.

As a BIPOC person—and a therapist—I want you to know:

You belong here.
This space can hold you.
It might take time,
it might take trial and error,
but your healing matters.
Your story matters.

And therapy, reimagined through your lens, can be a place where you are not just heard—but understood.