June 2020. While COVID was the main news topic. George Floyd and unrest took up space in headlines as well. In fact, June 2020 was one of those rare times where there seemed to be so much unrest amongst Black people that it seemed that something would need to change, make a fundamental shift. Fireworks were being blasted into late nights, adding to the fever and tension across the country.

In addition to a strict walking regimen which got me out of the house for one to two hours a day, working out as much as possible and expanding on my resume I decided to get back in touch with an old therapist to see how she was doing.

I had one therapist from the early 2000's until about 2017. She helped me deal with a lot of issues from growing up. While she was able to help me out with a lot, there was just one issue that turned into a widening blind spot over time. This therapist was not Black.

This meant that when I discussed my challenges with being Black in the office, being that one Black friend, or wondering why there was sch a disposable quality to many friendships & interactions, I'd be met with advice to give myself compassion as well as others around me.

While that's not generally bad advice, it does not help situations where one is the token Black friend. It wasn't until I was processing what at the time were surprising White responses to Michael Brown & Ferguson that the quote from MLK's Letter from a Birmingham Jail came to resonate:

I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negroes’ great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s “Counciler” or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can’t agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically feels that he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by the myth of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

So when I called my therapist, they asked if I was interested in having a session and resuming our work. I replied that while I did want to know that they were doing as well as could be during that time, I was working through the current crists with a Black therapist. Considering both our history of dealing with race as wll as the reality of the current climate (which as been clearer to more & more Black folk), it was definitely beneficial to have a Black therapist.

One who could address my fears of Trump becoming president with practical advice for self-care, while others would claim "This is not who we are". One who would not encourage me to put such concerns on the back burner, but deal with them first & foremost. One who could separate my internal issues from my internalized issues. I did appreciate all that she had done, but recognized that much of the remaining work was outside her experience or expertise.

She wished that she had had a better set of tools, or answers to deal with these problems. There was a time where I did as well, but one of life's ongoing learning lessons is knowing what to ask of whom. More importantly, what not to.