Growing up as a Black girl in the South, I was forced to understand the experience of marginalization and intersectionality. There was no getting around discrimination on all fronts. Once I came out as a lesbian I had another layer of my marginalization to consider, to live through, and to find beauty in. I grew up in Texas and just by that statement alone you can probably imagine what my experience was like. Figuring out my identity often came at a price. A price of lost friendship, community, familial relationships, and much more. You name it, I have probably grappled with that loss. Often people will wonder how it is possible for myself and people like me to go through these things daily and still experience joy. Radical and unadulterated joy. The short answer is finding joy in the resistance, the pain, the discomfort.
One of my biggest acts of joyful resistance is being a Black Lesbian therapist. I have made it a mission to be very intentional about the physical space as well as the mental and emotional space I have created for my clients. As I was designing my office, I wanted to make the space feel like coming to your homegirl’s house. The homegirl that makes you sit on her couch and tell her what’s really going on.The homegirl whose house makes you feel all the nostalgia because you know that your heart and secrets are completely safe.The homegirl that makes you forget that when you step out into the world people are already creating narratives and assumptions because on her couch… on my couch, you get to just be. 
I am big on making sure that my clients feel like they can be completely free in the space. Kick your shoes off, eat a snack and just allow yourself to exist without any judgement or expectation. People are often surprised that this experience is not one that they know how to sit in because it is not familiar. I tell clients within the first session that I am very passionate about creating safe space for queer people of color because there aren’t many in the world and they usually respond with a smirk or an agreement. Despite their agreement, I get the feeling that most of my clients haven’t fully understood that they lack safe spaces in their lives. Because when they find themselves in the safety of my office, they quickly realize that they don’t know how to rest and simply exist. This space is for queer people, especially queer people of color, in the face of the oppression that is both already here and looming in the future. The space we create is all about coming back to yourself and to your community. This is how we continue to resist. Not only by having these spaces but by being brave enough to experience them for ourselves.
I will be honest, I never thought I would be a queer therapist. I grew up in an environment where queerness was othered and demeaned. I didn’t think it was possible to live proudly in my own queerness, let alone create a space every day where people can live proudly in theirs. I am often in awe of the fact that people trust me with the most vulnerable and valuable pieces of themselves. I wake up every morning with the gift of knowing that my work means something. It not only means something to me, but to the people that walk into my office everyday and get to finally take a breath.They experience what it feels like, sometimes for the first time, to be completely seen, known, and celebrated. I get to celebrate with clients who are experiencing trans joy or who have come out to their friends and family. I have the opportunity to hold space for those that are heartbroken that their family doesn’t see them fully for who they are or those that make bold choices to live out loud even in the face of oppression and marginalization. Everyday when I sit in my office chair, I take a moment to recognize the privilege I have to witness my clients becoming more fully themselves. To witness their growth not only to loving themselves more fully but also the growth in choosing to not allow the current, past, or future political administration to diminish them.
This is my act of resistance: being able to cultivate queer joy and safety in a world where so many would prefer queer people resign to the doom and despair and go back into the closet. I love being able to sit with other queer people and allow them to rest in their authenticity so that they can go back out into the world with even more strength and resilience.
What drives me the most–and where so much of my resilience comes from–is recognizing the rich history of Black Queer people who have fought long and hard fights, and knowing that concurrent with their fight was their abundance of joy and love. Their lives and joy have so much to teach us about how the fight continues. They may not be remembered in the history books, but they are remembered every time I choose to exist loud and proud, and encourage others to do the same. My ancestors refused to sit back and shrink in the face of adversity and so do I. I will continue living and loving boldly, I will continue to take up space, I will continue to encourage others to do the same! As I live more authentically, I am able to create and share authentic space with every person that comes to sit on my couch.
[ssba-buttons]
