Tag Archives: Multiculturalism & Diversity

Multiculturalism & Diversity

The sensitivity of boundary setting in collectivist cultures

By Shabnam Brady October 11, 2021

In our Westernized culture, we are prone to upholding a dominant approach to managing our relationships that involves boundary setting. Thus, our therapy practices and culture often emphasize setting boundaries as a key element of developing and maintaining “healthy” relationships. The United States mostly engages in an individualistic culture, which can promote and help to sustain boundaries to protect and even nurture a relationship with the self. 

But what about cultures in which the family is at the center and boundaries are often blurred? What is deemed “healthy” in such cultures — and who defines this? These are called collectivist cultures. In collectivist cultures, family members identify closely with one another and often make decisions for the family as a whole rather than for the self. Sacrifice, honor and loyalty are some of the core values of such families and cultures. For example, saying no to the family or setting limits on simple family events or dinners may be perceived as selfish and rude. 

Imagine Maryam, a married mom of two, fatigued from her workweek and yet being asked to host the weekly family dinner. This gathering includes grandparents, uncles, cousins and, of course, mom, dad and siblings. Maryam rushes to the store, then home to cook a very involved rice and stew dish. The family arrives early, adding anxiety to her already-exhausted mental state. 

Later in the week, Maryam attends her therapy session. Her therapist suggests setting limits and saying no to hosting these events in the future or proposing that her sister, Fara, hosts the next time. Maryam agrees, but she struggles because this would mean making a decision for herself and based solely on her own needs. Although this may be considered “healthy” by the dominant culture, it is causing Maryam more stress and, now, added guilt. Maryam may not even feel comfortable sharing these new thoughts with her therapist due to her culture of origin’s boundary for respecting authority (she may potentially view the therapist as the expert and authority). 

Workable boundaries

What do we do, as mental health providers, in the case of Maryam? 

First, we can validate and normalize her emotions. Next, we may pose questions to allow her to further express herself and ponder potential resolutions. In talking with her, we may at some point realize that she is stressed but at the same time happy to see and host her family. There may be no need for behavioral change here; rather, expressing emotions in a safe place and feeling heard by the counselor may be enough for Maryam. Potentially, she may need support identifying her emotions to further express them too. 

If Maryam continues to share concerns about her fatigue level, it may be supportive to suggest what I call a “workable boundary,” with consideration given to her culture and her values. This workable boundary could simply be adjusting the time that everyone comes over so that Maryam has some time to rest first upon arriving home. 

A workable boundary is flexible. It is not rigid like typical boundaries may be perceived or promoted to be. It is similar to a compromise and works to respect the client’s culture of origin and needs. The flexibility may prioritize the client’s culture and empower the client to choose what is workable. 

Straying away from the stringency of a black-and-white approach to boundary setting can be more inclusive. The less we guilt individuals into self-care and self-prioritization, the more we can become aware of their needs, wants, values and cultures. Some individuals in collectivist cultures gain energy, pride, strength and honor when the family is well and happy. 

Prioritizing client boundaries

The connectivity of emotions, identity and well-being in a collectivist family and culture of origin is complex, requiring respect for exceptional and unique boundaries. Roles and authority may serve a special function in the collectivist family experience. 

For example, in my own personal collectivist family experience, as well as in working as a counselor with college and high school students with collectivist cultural backgrounds, I learned that even the majors we chose for our college experiences originated in our family values and expectations. We honored our families by choosing to become accountants, doctors and engineers, among other professions. We struggled and wanted to quit. Yet many of us continued on this path to a field mostly chosen for us by the influence of our collectivist cultures and families. 

Experts on setting boundaries may advise students who are feeling stressed to follow their own career paths, which would encourage straying from the family norm. Here is an opportunity for us to remember our counselor ethics and to prioritize client values over our own and even over those of the dominant culture here in the United States. We can work to be culturally humble and learn to navigate and negotiate values as clients desire to apply them in their own lives. 

The goal of the client seeking counseling at the university counseling center may simply be to feel humbly supported through their time of feeling stuck or yearning to change majors. Their desire may purely be to not feel alone. What seems simple may be forgotten because we are often inundated by the dominant cultural norm of pursuing our own dreams and goals first. While students and clients may report feeling pressure, they may also report feeling pride in their struggles and motivated in their pursuit of this family dream, especially if they are from collectivist, immigrant backgrounds. 

Likewise, choosing whom to marry may be a family-based decision in collectivist cultures. Boundaries may be perceived as vague. Those outside of these families and cultures may view these family roles and relationships as examples of unhealthy enmeshment. Nevertheless, in some cultures, honoring the family will continue to be the foremost concern when making such a major decision. After all, a romantic partner is commonly considered a new member of the family. Thus, the decision requires the approval of the family in these cultures. 

Providing counseling to an individual who is navigating such circumstances and decisions may require offering further values assessment to support the decision-making process. If family is the client’s No. 1 value, this could support the client’s decision to involve the family in choosing a life partner. Setting boundaries prematurely based on individualistic cultural norms may prevent family members from playing their traditional roles in the individual’s life. 

What may be challenging to understand in the dominant culture — including the high value placed on duty, honor and authority — is part of the traditional fabric in some collectivist cultures. Often, we assume that it is harmful for others to choose our life partners. However, in many cultures, this is viewed as the practice of respecting authority and feeling honored to receive this input and potential blessing. Some clients feel excited to enter these life partner journeys with the support and input of their parents and families. Other clients may not, and that is OK too. The purpose of viewing boundary setting from a wider, more culturally inclusive lens is to stop making assumptions about what is “healthy” for all clients and desired by all clients and to stop promoting only the dominant culture’s perspective of boundaries. 

A nonassumptive approach can lead to greater appreciation of the client’s worldview, needs and ability to reach decisions with the support of the therapist. Open-minded, nondominant cultural perspectives can further encourage this process. Taking such steps can also lead to less guilt, potential shame and frustration on the part of clients who experience the world as bicultural (i.e., negotiating and identifying with two cultures). 

It is often more convenient to go along with the dominant culture’s expectations. Likewise, there is frequently less judgment when choosing the dominant culture’s norms. However, this can be harmful for individuals who appreciate and potentially want to choose collectivist cultural values and norms in some life areas. The pressure many may feel in such situations can be overwhelming. For example: wanting to live at home beyond the age of 18, wanting to date someone chosen by one’s parents, wanting to name one’s child with a chosen family name. 

These are just a few examples of the many decisions children and adults who are bicultural may face (and prefer to make) that others can regard as boundary “blurring.” The therapy setting can provide an open, safe space for clients to explore and arrive at decisions that are best for them, taking all cultures involved into consideration rather than focusing only on the expectations of the dominant culture. Counselors can set aside the boundary-setting trend that might seem liberating on the surface but that may in fact be confusing for some individuals from these cultural backgrounds. By diminishing the idea that inflexible boundary setting is the “healthy” option when it comes to managing interpersonal relationships and life decisions, the lifestyles and complexities that many culturally diverse individuals and families experience and prefer can be included and explored.

Sumala Chidchoi/Shutterstock.com

Culturally inclusive practices

I am a bicultural, immigrant American therapist and individual who has experienced and navigated, both personally and in session, the guilt that can arise from the boundary-setting expectations of the dominant culture. In choosing my life partner, I practiced strict boundary setting with family members in my collectivist culture. In choosing to go to graduate school to earn a doctorate, the boundaries were workable, blurred and, at times, enmeshed with my family’s dreams and goals. 

I have supported many diverse clients in navigating different areas of life, including grieving differently than their family, by using workable boundaries that include both their cultural and individual needs. The following steps can support more culturally inclusive practices for navigating boundary setting in collectivist cultures. 

>> Develop and pose questions or prompts that reduce the potential for “dominant culture speak,” such as “your needs” and even the word “boundary.” Instead, consider adding to your language the phrases “cultural considerations” and “family needs tied to your needs and wants.” For example, a possible question to explore with the client is, “I hear that’s hard for you. What are some ways you can meet your family needs that perhaps seem to influence your needs, especially with the weekly family dinners?” 

>> Explore the topic of guilt with clients. How does guilt affect them interpersonally and emotionally? Does it apply in their identity, role and cultures? How, if it all, does guilt come up when considering boundaries with family members, partners or friends? 

>> Investigate what the word “boundary” means to the client. Does it have a meaning? Is it culturally relevant for them or is it a new concept? How would they like to incorporate it into their wellness journey, if at all? 

>> Offer psychoeducation on boundary-setting practices for potential emotional wellness while acknowledging cultural implications. Then ask for feedback and reactions. What does the client think of this concept? Do they agree or disagree? Why? Would they like to explore these practices in their life? 

>> Finally, individualize boundary-setting practices to respect the client’s culture, needs and wants. Assess what these practices are and introduce concepts such as workable boundaries or more innovative ways that may work for the client in an inclusive style. Implement a feedback model in therapy to assess the client’s satisfaction level with such strategies.

 

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Shabnam Brady holds a doctorate in counseling psychology. She is a therapist, professor, author and founder of Therapy for Immigrants (@therapyforimmigrants), an Instagram community whose aim is to raise awareness and expand inclusivity practices in mental health for immigrant communities. Contact her at drbradytherapy@gmail.com.

 

Counseling Today reviews unsolicited articles written by American Counseling Association members. To access writing guidelines and tips for having an article accepted for publication, visit ct.counseling.org/feedback.

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

African Americans and the reluctance to seek treatment

By Patricia Bethea Whitfield September 16, 2021

Amid talks of how African Americans have been disproportionately impacted by the COVID-19 pandemic and speculations about their hesitance to be vaccinated, the Tuskegee experiment has been cited numerous times as a kind of landmark explanation of why African Americans are reluctant to seek treatment. In the Tuskegee experiment, African American men were recruited for what they thought was a medical treatment but was actually a study of untreated syphilis that continued long after penicillin was a recognized intervention for the disease. In fact, the men were never treated, and many went on to infect their partners as well. As unethical as this research is now recognized to be, the reluctance of African Americans to trust systems and seek treatment is actually rooted closer to home, in the long history of mental health abuse and failed mental health intervention for African Americans. 

Today, African Americans face numerous challenges that affect their mental health, including high rates of unemployment, poverty and incarceration; health disparities and disability; the emotional and psychological impact of the pandemic; and the steady uptick of police shootings in the African American community. All of these challenges are complicated by the intergenerational trauma of slavery, the very mention of which often arouses an almost visceral reaction even 150-plus years after it ended. In fact, Africans were brought to this country as slave labor and, along the way, laws were passed to ensure that they and their descendants would continue to be enslaved forever. Over time, the color of their skin was equated with servitude and privation in a way that has persisted for over 400 years. Slavery is our common history, and if it is a shame, it is our common shame. 

Now there are new mental health challenges in the emerging myths that discount the history of African Americans and slavery. The first myth is that slavery is a hoax, meaning that Blacks were never enslaved in this country. The second myth is that Blacks were enslaved but slavery was really not that bad. In the first myth, the discounting of history is insidious. It is meant to befuddle and confound in the same kind of gaslighting experienced by the lead character in the movie of the same name (Gaslight). In this case, the myth is intended to create doubt of perception and historical memory such that Black people are being told, “You think you went through hell, but it did not happen.” In an era of turbulent racial tension, the second myth of slavery as a harmless social good conveys a tone of slavery reconsidered for African Americans, and recent voter restriction laws help to flesh out the second boogeyman as a political reality. This historical revisionism retraumatizes, angers and reactivates centuries-old intergenerational fight-or-flight strategies for coping, including confrontation (rallies and marches) and withdrawal. 

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2017), non-Hispanic Blacks are more likely than non-Hispanic whites to report feelings of “sadness, hopelessness, worthlessness, or that everything is an effort all or most of the time.” The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) Office of Minority Health reported that suicide was the second-leading cause of death among African Americans ages 15 to 24 in 2019, and the death rate from suicide for African American men was four times that of African American women. African Americans have one of the highest rates of poverty in the United States, and according to the HHS Office of Minority Health, African Americans living below the poverty line are twice as likely as other individuals to report psychological distress. In 2019, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration reported that among adults who experienced mental health issues in the past year, non-Hispanic Blacks were significantly less likely to receive mental health treatment than non-Hispanic whites (8.7% compared with 18.6%). 

Despite the evident need for mental health counseling, many African Americans are reluctant to seek treatment. Some of this reluctance may be rooted in the reality that, historically, African Americans have had their mental health abused and their mental health treatment administered with a liberal dose of discrimination and bias. Initially, it was assumed that African Americans could not be mentally ill. The general notion was that a person had to own property and actively engage in business and civic affairs to experience mental illness, and because African American slaves “had nothing and nothing to worry about,” they could not be mentally ill. In fact, when both the 1840 and 1850 U.S. census found such low rates of mental illness among slaves, it was concluded that slavery actually protected slaves from the known diagnoses of the time. 

Science rushed to support pro-slavery views. Physicians and scientists promoted the notion that slavery was such a good thing that a slave would have to be mentally ill to want to leave it. Thus, drapetomania emerged as the first race-based diagnosis. Samuel Cartwright, a physician, coined the term in 1851 to describe a “disease” that made slaves develop an irrational urge to run away from slavery. He also identified a second physical and mental abnormality, dysaethesia aethiopica, thought to attack Black people who had too much freedom. This condition was purported to make them sabotage their work, break things and become confrontational with others. 

While early attempts to label African American behavior seem antiquated and almost laughable today, they have had a profound impact on the regulation of Black behavior and the transmission of intergenerational bias. Over time, resistance to oppression and free labor stereotyped African Americans as “lazy” people who did not want to work, and for their most vociferous resistance to slavery, they were often labeled “deranged.” In this way, race and control were conflated with mental illness in the lives of Black people, and that was just the beginning. Slavery in the United States ended in the mid-1860s, and the usefulness of Blacks for free labor and reproduction of more slaves ended with it. Slavery left a lot of broken families who were never able to reconnect. Employment was nearly nonexistent, and Jim Crow laws codified new subservient behaviors for Black people, who had to go to the back door for service and step off the sidewalk to let white people pass. From 1882-1968, 3,446 Black people were lynched in a campaign of terror, according to Tuskegee Institute. 

Also in the late 1800s, Francis Galton coined the term “eugenics,” the notion that only certain people should be able to reproduce. Herbert Spencer supported this idea with his now famous “survival of the fittest” theory or social Darwinism. Eventually, the concept of eugenics was adopted and applied for various purposes: the genocide of the Jews by Adolf Hitler, in immigration policy and, ultimately, in the forced sterilization of people considered mentally defective, including persons with disabilities. According to the Equal Justice Initiative (2013), in addition to persons with disabilities and prisoners, “thousands of poor Southern Black women were sterilized without their knowledge or consent.”

The notions of Galton and Spencer further fueled views on miscegenation, or biological race mixing, and the legal prohibitions against intermarriage. The supposition was that by outlawing mixed-race unions, the white race would remain the strong, pure race, while mixed-race individuals, called “mulattoes,” would meld into the Black race. It worked. By definition, mulattoes disappeared nearly a century ago after the U.S. census dropped that category and mixed-race individuals were forced to self-identify as Black and intermarry with Black people. Legally, the prohibition on mixed-race marriage lasted until the Supreme Court struck it down in Loving v. Virginia in 1967. But in the dominant discourse, it has lasted much longer. 

Well into the 20th century, the realities of Black mental health were minimized in service to age-old views on the dangers of Black people having too much freedom — namely, that it would cause them to lapse into ruin and insanity. Mental health treatment and facilities were fledgling and limited notions for everyone at the time, but for Black people, institutionalization was dismal. Because of segregation, Black people who were mentally ill were housed separately from whites, to the point of being lodged on the grounds or in overcrowded spaces, forced to work in the facilities, and often hired out to support the institutions.

In some cases, individuals were institutionalized for other disorders, other disabilities were mistaken for mental illness, and people were confined on the word of an employer. Despite passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, some states continued to provide discriminatory mental health services in which African Americans were more likely to be labeled as aggressive, less likely to engage in talk therapy, more likely to be segregated on pharmaceutical interventions and, in the case of African American men, more likely to be labeled as schizophrenic and restrained. 

Consequently, many African Americans remain skeptical that mental health professionals are here to help them, and they are often right. According to a fact sheet published by the American Psychiatric Association in 2017, African Americans are less likely to receive “guide-line consistent” care, more likely to use the emergency room or a primary care provider for intervention, and less often included in research. In a 2013 study from Earlise Ward, Jacqueline Wiltshire, Michelle Detry and Roger Brown, African Americans were found to be generally reluctant to consider psychological problems, were concerned about the stigma associated with mental illness, and were “somewhat open” to mental health services, although they preferred “religious coping.” A 2015 study by Janeé Avent, Craig Cashwell and Shelly Brown-Jeffy found that in Southern Black communities, the faith leader or “preacher” is often a front-line source of support for church members experiencing mental health distress. 

To attract Black people to mental health counseling, we must address old prejudices around the flawed construct of race, lingering biases in mental health treatment, and the lack of access to mental health services for those living in poverty. We could recruit more counselor education students from marginalized groups, and we could address the shortage of African Americans among counselor education faculty. According to the 2017 CACREP Vital Statistics Report, African Americans make up just 14.52% of counselor educators, and of that number, 4.11% are African American men. We could ask ourselves hard questions about why counselor education textbooks have been silent about what has happened to African Americans in mental health treatment, and when we do that, we could decide not to put that dialogue in a separate section of the book. 

We could have an integrated discussion about the segregated history of mental health treatment in this country. We could stop saying that Black people “drop out” of treatment and start a conversation about why African Americans are skeptical of our labels and our notions and potions as they relate to the historical regulation of Black behavior. Finally, it is late — but not too late — to do due diligence in the clinical assessment of people who bought and sold human beings and, in many cases, perpetrated horrific acts of violence against them. The victims who resisted oppression were labeled “mentally ill,” but we have yet to label the perpetrators of these atrocities. 

For these reasons, the myths that deny the injustices of slavery or that slavery ever even existed are not benign. African Americans have lived for more than 400 years in a kind of psychological fun house with mirrors that reflect everything in exaggerated shapes. The message: “Your life experience does not matter.” 

Ultimately, viewing enslaved people as less than human, recklessly labeling them and then wantonly disregarding African American mental health for two centuries formed the justification for the Tuskegee experiment. So, if African Americans are reluctant to seek treatment, the reluctance has less to do with race and more to do with trust. That is what the reluctance is about. Happily, that is what counseling is about too.

pixelheadphoto digitalskillet/Shutterstock.com

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Patricia Bethea Whitfield holds a doctorate of education and is an associate professor and coordinator of the CACREP-accredited mental health counseling clinical program in the Department of Counseling at North Carolina A&T State University, where she teaches “Counseling Poor and Ethnically Diverse Families.” She is a member of the North Carolina Counseling Association Executive Council, president of the North Carolina Association for Specialists in Group Work, and past president of the North Carolina Association of Marriage and Family Counselors.

 

Counseling Today reviews unsolicited articles written by American Counseling Association members. To access writing guidelines and tips for having an article accepted for publication, visit ct.counseling.org/feedback.

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Supporting AAPI communities: ‘We still need to do more’

By Bethany Bray August 2, 2021

The United States has seen a significant spike in anti-Asian hate crimes and discrimination in the past year. Since spring of 2020, “there was anti-Asian bigotry and misinformation spreading almost as quickly as the [corona] virus itself,” said Rep. Judy Chu at an online panel discussion hosted by the American Counseling Association last month to address the recent rise in anti-Asian sentiment and the professional counselor’s role in addressing it.

“Conversations about mental health have never been more important,” she noted. “With each new report of an innocent Asian American being attacked, many across the country worry, ‘Will I be next?’” Chu, a Democrat who has represented California’s 27th district since 2009, is a psychologist and the first Chinese American woman to be elected to Congress.

She was one of three legislators on the panel discussion held on July 21. The other speakers included Rep. Sharon Tomiko Santos of Washington and Sen. Chris Lee of Hawaii as well as ACA CEO Richard Yep and ACA President S. Kent Butler.

The panelists noted that stigma and barriers, including being isolated or marginalized because of language barriers, often keep those in the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community from seeking mental health services. Lee and Santos also discussed how mental health, trauma and the COVID-19 pandemic intersect.

“The issues that we are seeing have a lot to do with the isolation that we’ve experienced under COVID-19 restrictions and the challenges of race that have never been resolved in our country,” said Santos, who has been a community activist for more than 40 years. “What we are seeing, in my opinion, is the exacerbation of those fault lines that have existed in our communities for many, many years. … These are challenges that will involve all of us working together at the state and national level to address.”

Butler noted that counselors are called to help all disadvantaged groups. Not only is helping people regardless of their background or immigration status an ethical mandate but it is also a part of “who we are” as counselors, Butler stressed.

Although numerous measures have been passed by local and federal legislatures to better track and address anti-Asian violence and hostility in the United States, “we still need to do more,” Chu said. “There is so much that can be done to support our communities, and counselors are on the front lines.”

 

 

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Watch the full video of the July 21 event at ACA’s YouTube page: youtu.be/PYAvqIOWEzo

Related reading from Counseling Today

Take action

Support the following initiatives and others by visiting the ACA Take Action page:

  • Teaching Asian Pacific American History Act
  • Stop Mental Health Stigma in Our Communities Act
  • Increasing Access to Mental Health in Schools Act

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Bethany Bray is a senior writer and social media coordinator for Counseling Today. Contact her at bbray@counseling.org.

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Counseling while Black

By Lindsey Phillips June 29, 2021

The counseling field is not immune to racism, systemic or otherwise. Before the Association for Multicultural Counseling and Development (AMCD) formed, nonwhite members of the American Counseling Association paid their dues but had limited representation on ACA’s board and senate. A group of counselors lobbied for AMCD (then the Association for Non-White Concerns) to become an official ACA division, but their initial requests were denied. It was a struggle to get ACA’s leaders at the time to recognize the need for and legitimacy of a division that would focus on nonwhite needs, but the hard work of advocates finally paid off when the AMCD division became a reality at ACA’s 1972 conference. (See more about AMCD’s history at multiculturalcounselingdevelopment.org/amcd-history.)

Ebony White, an assistant clinical professor and the program director of the master’s in addictions counseling program at Drexel University in Philadelphia, points out that the counseling profession — like other smaller systems in our society — has largely tried to dismiss the role that racism has played and continues to play in the profession and society as a whole. 

“The counseling profession has mimicked that model of sweeping it under the rug,” she asserts. “So, it’s important that there is first an acknowledgment about what has happened, and instead of … saying, ‘This is what we are going to do about [racism],’ counselors should ask, ‘How have we perpetuated racism in our profession?’ And they should look at what’s been published in the literature and incorporate what has worked [for others] into our profession and our organizations to make change.” 

To shed light on embedded racism and help others better understand it, six Black counselors shared their experiences of working in a predominantly white field and their hopes for the future of the profession. 

Acknowledging racism in the counseling field

Black counselors’ intersecting identities affect the way they understand the world around them as well as how others perceive them. “I live and experience situations as a Black woman every day more than I live as a counselor,” says Noréal Armstrong, a licensed clinical mental health counselor supervisor in North Carolina and a licensed professional counselor supervisor (LPC-S) in Texas. 

As a Black woman in the counseling field, Armstrong says she has encountered microaggressions and racism from colleagues. For example, when serving as the department chair of the counseling program at a liberal arts college, Armstrong informed her colleagues about a Council for Accreditation of Counseling & Related Educational Programs (CACREP) standard needed to support the success of the counseling program. But, she says, her white colleagues questioned her, debated options without her and asked to speak to a CACREP representative, who simply confirmed that Armstrong had the correct information. This encounter left her wondering: “Are they questioning me because they lack confidence in me, because I’m a woman or because I’m Black?” 

The uncertainty in this and similar situations is “what keeps me up at night,” Armstrong says. “That’s what has my stomach in knots. That’s what has me frustrated.” 

Armstrong, an ACA member and the vice president of the AMCD Women’s Concerns group, says she didn’t ask her white colleagues why they felt it necessary to bring in the CACREP liaison because she was tired of having to navigate their defensiveness and denial that race played a role in their actions, even if it may have been implicit. 

White, who was part of the panel for ACA’s webinar “Our Community Gathers: A Conversation With Counselors About Mental Health in 2020” and is president-elect of the ACA division Counselors for Social Justice (CSJ), says she has been “dismissed … ignored, oftentimes not heard and many, many, many times called the ‘angry Black woman.’” 

White, the immediate past chair of the North Atlantic Region of ACA, recalls a microaggression that occurred in her last meeting as chair-elect. During the video call, she was looking down and typing notes from the meeting. A white colleague unmuted to remark, “Ebony, you look so angry. What’s wrong?” White was stunned. She had been labeled as “angry” simply for taking notes.

“The reality is that for some people, your complexion is more important than your intellectual ability,” says Raphael Bosley, a licensed mental health counselor associate who works at Cross Connections Counseling and at Courageous Healing in Fort Wayne, Indiana. 

Bosley, an ACA member, acknowledges that this truth weighs on him. He says that he questions himself and what he knows more than other clinicians might. He also finds that he frequently has to elaborate on the rationale behind his professional assessments to colleagues and clients. Bosley admits that sometimes he is the one who doesn’t trust his own thoughts, which he believes is the result of living in a society that has conditioned him to trust his athletic ability more than his intellectual ability. 

He also finds that incorrect assumptions about his intellect can be a natural barrier with some clients in the therapeutic space — a space that involves understanding the brain. “They’re not used to seeing a Black male face as the one providing the service when it comes to dealing with the mind and emotions. Why? Because Black men are angry. Black men have rage. Black men are not supposed to be able to teach me how to calm down and ground myself,” Bosley says.

The (in)ability to be one’s authentic self 

Diversity is not just about issues such as race, ethnicity, gender and religion; it is also about the way we communicate, notes Tyce Nadrich, an assistant professor of clinical mental health counseling at Molloy College. Black counselors often can’t communicate in a way that is natural or authentic to them around their white colleagues, students and clients, he says. Instead, they code-switch, adjusting their style of speech, appearance or behavior to appeal to a different audience, often as a means of receiving fair treatment.

“The amount of code-switching that I think [Black counselors] are required to do is egregious,” says Nadrich, a licensed mental health counselor and coordinator of clinical training at Balance Mental Health Counseling in Huntington, New York. “It’s exhausting because I know if I communicate … the way that is natural to me … I will not be heard because folks will pretend that they don’t understand me or they’ll just dismiss it as not worth listening to.” 

For example, Nadrich says that when he gets upset, he may not use three- or four-syllable words — despite having them in his vocabulary — because that’s not the way he talks when he has heightened emotions. He expresses his feelings in a more casual register.  

Bosley, who is also an associate minister at Greater Progressive Baptist Church in Fort Wayne, concedes that as a Black counselor working in a predominantly white field, he often feels the need to be polished in the way he communicates, even in situations that don’t require it. He feels like there is a spotlight on him 24/7 because of his race. 

For Armstrong, whose areas of interest include substance use, Black women in academia, multiculturalism, the deaf community and spirituality in counseling, code-switching involves adopting a professional discourse of privilege. When speaking with white colleagues, she often avoids personal or emotional language and relies on data and numbers to convey her message and ensure they are listening to her. 

White, whose research interests focus broadly on advocacy and social justice within the Black community, came to the realization that no matter how she spoke or presented herself, people would have preconceived notions about her. She says she has reached a point where she will no longer code-switch for white colleagues because she knows she can’t control how others perceive her. So, she is her authentic self with colleagues, which may include saying “ain’t,” dropping verbs or rolling her neck. 

The fatigue factor 

Too often the burden of raising issues related to racism and educating others falls on Black counselors. “It’s a constant and common fatigue,” White says. “Because advocacy is such a huge part of my identity, I’m not one of those people that really chooses my battles. I’m always chosen to battle, which is tiring and exhausting.”  

White recalls sitting in multiple meetings and being so upset by what was being said or not said about race and diversity that she spoke up because no one else would. “It’s angering that I have to be the one to address it,” she stresses. White is a licensed professional counselor who developed the Center for Mastering and Refining Children’s Unique Skills (M.A.R.C.U.S.), a nonprofit organization that provides tutoring, mentoring and mental health counseling to children and adolescents, especially in the Black community.

A few days after George Floyd was killed by police in Minneapolis in May 2020, Nadrich noticed many of his white colleagues remained silent. So, he decided to broach the issue himself because he knew that students and faculty were hurting. 

After addressing the issue, a few white colleagues told him, “I’ve been thinking about this for so long, but it’s just so hard, so emotional. I’ve been torn up about what to say.” Rather than sharing those words after the fact, Nadrich, an ACA member who specializes in racial ambiguity, diversity and social justice work, wishes his colleagues had stepped up and spoken out against racial violence and injustice before he felt compelled to. 

The burden to respond to the wider community shouldn’t have been placed on his shoulders, Nadrich stresses, especially considering that he isn’t in a leadership role and because he was already dealing with the trauma and grief of yet another horrific act of racial violence being committed against someone in the Black community. 

Bosley says he often deals with white guilt and the burden of being expected to answer or pose questions about race himself. He never knows which one of those tasks will be required of him on a given day. He finds that being a mental health professional only compounds this obligation to educate others. “You have that uninvited burden that [you] need to take advantage of this moment to educate because any silence is going to give permission for the fire to keep burning. Whether that’s right or wrong or whether I should take that on or not, it’s my reality,” he says.

White stresses the importance of self-reflection and awareness, especially for white counselors. Counselors must unpack their own privileged identities and examine what that means for how they operate in the world, she argues. 

“We often talk in terms of ‘what do white people need to do,’ so it becomes another version of us having to educate white people and tell white people what to do when they can literally just read and watch what’s been put out there,” she says, offering the Multicultural and Social Justice Counseling Competencies as one example. 

Having courageous conversations 

Right after George Floyd was murdered, white students and colleagues asked Armstrong, who serves as the new executive director for A Therapist Like Me, a nonprofit organization that connects marginalized clients with marginalized therapists, how she was feeling. She wasn’t sure how to describe her emotions or even how this latest instance of racial violence was affecting her. 

“For the longest, I wasn’t able to put a word to it because I kind of didn’t feel anything. And I don’t mean that in a cold, shut off, numb way,” she explains. “I mean it more so in that, unfortunately, I feel like I’ve become desensitized to it because racial violence and injustice are so ingrained now in our society. It’s another thing I carry with me as a Black person in America.”

Armstrong wondered if her white colleagues were also bothered by these horrific acts of murder and violence against the Black community. Did they have knots in their stomachs? Did they call their family members to check on them too? 

So, Armstrong asked them a straightforward question: How did they feel about George Floyd’s death? But her white colleagues dodged the question. Armstrong’s frustration over this exchange resulted in her presentation, “Please Stop Asking, Because I Am Not Okay: The Struggle for Black Counselors During a Racial Pandemic,” at the North Carolina Counseling Association’s 2021 conference. Her goal, she says, was to start a serious dialogue on issues faced by Black mental health professionals.  

When it comes to race and social justice, counselors “have to get out of their own way and allow conversations to happen,” says ACA President S. Kent Butler. “Just like what we are trained to do as counselors … we must take ourselves out of the equation and be there as a culturally competent counselor for our [clients] so that we do no harm and [do not] negatively impact the outcome of what’s happening within the therapeutic relationship. We’re trying to help clients move forward,” he says. “That same philosophy also needs to go into social justice work. Counselors need to take themselves out of the equation because sometimes they may represent or be a part of the problem. And if you are indeed a part of the problem, then it is imperative that you take measures to understand your role in it and figure out how you may in fact help elicit systemic change. That’s what self-awareness is all about.” 

Camellia Green, an LPC-S with a private practice in New Orleans, agrees that lack of self-awareness often prevents society and the counseling field from moving forward. “In the field of counseling, we’re taught you have to know yourself and be aware of all the potential areas of countertransference. … Clinicians [are encouraged] to go to counseling themselves … but many people don’t,” she says. 

But this mandate goes deeper than counselors just knowing themselves. It requires them to dig into their racial identity development, which isn’t something they get in a continuing education unit, and to question their worldview, which has been developed over their lifetime, says Green, an ACA member who specializes in working with people who have experienced trauma. 

Bosley advises white colleagues to give themselves permission to be a beginner at discussing race. “Be courageous enough … to talk about it,” he says. “Because the same lump that’s in your throat is in my throat when I gotta bring it up. But I recognize if I don’t bring it up, you’re not.”

“And have the commitment not just to talk about it but then to do something about it,” he adds. 

fizkes/Shutterstock.com

Agents of change 

Counselors are in a prime position to put these courageous conversations into action. “We’re supposed to be leading the charge because from a psychological and mental health perspective, we know what’s at the foundation of [racism] … and we’re the ones who can speak to it and say here’s how you change it,” Armstrong says. “But counselors are not doing that.” 

Incongruity between counselors’ words and actions is a big part of the problem, Bosley stresses. He finds counselors often say they are against discrimination, but they don’t publicly speak out against those who are discriminating, or they claim to be “an agent for the voiceless” until they have to speak for them. Then, they are silent. 

“Don’t just use your voice for me when I’m there,” Bosley says. “Use your voice when I’m not there and your friend … [or] colleague is saying something [harmful].”

ACA began its own crucial conversations when the Governing Council released an ACA anti-racism statement in June 2020. Later that year, ACA created an anti-racism task force, which was chaired by Butler, who was then the ACA president-elect. 

The task force proposed an ACA anti-racism action plan, which includes nine initiatives to help combat systemic racism and racial injustices. ACA also recently formed a commission to help counselors understand ways to move this narrative forward, promote research, provide counselors with anti-racism resources, and incorporate more action-based projects such as providing scholarships to help underrepresented counselors attend conferences, adds Butler, the interim chief equity, inclusion and diversity officer and a professor of counselor education at the University of Central Florida, as well as a fellow of the National Association of Diversity Offices in Higher Education. 

The need for more representation 

Another problem within the field is the need for more diverse counselors and therapists. According to the American Psychological Association, only 4% of psychologists are Black, compared with 84% who are white.

Nadrich was one of two Black men in his master’s counseling program. When the class started discussing race, the students would often turn to these two men and explicitly or implicitly ask them their thoughts, as if they were appointed spokespeople for the Black community. Although Nadrich’s doctoral program was more diverse, he was still the first Black man to graduate from the program. 

When Nadrich, along with Michael Hannon (an associate professor of counseling at Montclair University) and four other colleagues, researched the underrepresentation of Black men in counselor education, they faced an interesting dilemma: How could they incorporate the voices of the eight Black men they interviewed without exposing or “outing” their identities? With so few Black male counselor educators, they feared other professionals would easily be able to identify their participants by the way they spoke. (The resulting article, “Contributing Factors to Earning Tenure Among Black Male Counselor Educators,” was named Outstanding Counselor Education and Supervision Article for 2020 by the Association for Counselor Education and Supervision [ACES] Awards Committee.) 

The counseling profession needs to make itself more accessible not only to nonwhite clients but also to nonwhite counselors. “There is very little intentional mentorship when it comes to including and getting … Black people into the counseling profession,” says White, the recent recipient of ACA’s Dr. Judy Lewis Counselors for Social Justice Award. “There’s this ruse … [that] we have all these things available, but it’s not accessible if it’s not attractive.” 

By way of explaining, White recalls attending a division meeting of one of the ACA regions a few years ago where she was greeted by a room filled with white faces. She remembers thinking how unwelcoming the space could be for other Black professionals like herself. As the counselors started discussing business as usual, White felt compelled to ask why there was so little diversity in the room. Her question was met with silence for a full minute. Then, passing comments were made about how the group had tried to address diversity. “It gives you the message that they don’t care; it’s not really of importance or value,” White says.

Although the counseling profession still has work to do to attract diverse counselors and clients, White is hopeful because she has noticed a shift in Black people becoming more open to counseling. “We’ve done something right where now more people in the African American community are considering [entering the] counseling [profession], are getting counseling and are recognizing the value of mental health,” she notes.  

White is also excited by the increase of Black counselors entering leadership positions: ACA’s current president is a Black man; the presidents of CSJ and the Military and Government Counseling Association (MGCA) are Black women; and the presidents-elect of ACA, AMCD, ACES, CSJ, MGCA, the American Rehabilitation Counseling Association, the National Career Development Association, and the Society for Sexual, Affectional, Intersex and Gender Expansive Identities are Black women.

These individuals “are more than qualified, but also I know that our voting body is very white. And so that gives me hope that they were able to see promise,” White says. At the same time, she worries that this shift in representation at the leadership level could cause a backlash. She says she has already heard counselors asking, “How did this happen?” 

The ongoing journey toward cultural competence

Multicultural training is central to preparing counselors to understand the experiences of people who differ from them as well as to be aware of their own privilege and bias. But Butler asks, “How can we change the narrative on systemic racism when the profession has some counselor educators and counseling programs that do not value multiculturalism or change?” 

Nadrich says that the multicultural education offered in his master’s counseling program was insufficient, which was more of a reflection on the dynamics of the one multicultural course he took rather than on the institution, he adds. The instructor of the course didn’t know how to navigate conversations about race and culture. “It was a very Black/white course. We didn’t talk much about anything beyond issues faced by Black and white people. We barely spoke about other oppressed groups and never spoke about topics like intersectionality,” he says. 

Some counseling programs require students to take only one multicultural counseling course, and as Armstrong and Green point out, one course is not enough to prepare clinicians to be culturally competent. Armstrong believes there needs to be an emphasis on cultural self-awareness and community awareness from the onset and through the entirety of the counseling program because cultural competence occurs over time and through practice. 

Multicultural counseling involves more than an organization or department saying that they value it and tacking on an extra cultural assignment to the curriculum, notes Green, a doctoral candidate in the counselor education program at the University of New Orleans. She would like to see counseling programs incorporate multicultural awareness into all counseling courses, not just one.

Butler, whose research interests include African American men, spirituality and ethics in counseling, and diversity and social justice in counseling, agrees that multicultural training needs to be integrated into every aspect of counseling, including theories, techniques and research. His forthcoming textbook, Introduction to 21st Century Counseling: A Multicultural & Social Justice Approach, which he co-edited with Anna Flores Locke and Joel M. Filmore, embeds multicultural and social justice competencies throughout each chapter and serves as a guide to enhance teaching and help counselors better understand themselves, their clients and the world around them.

“Cultural competence is not an endpoint. It’s not a destination. It’s a journey,” White says. And part of the journey involves self-awareness, especially for white people. “Your whiteness shapes your … interactions. It shifts the room. It takes up oxygen,” she notes. 

And people’s own perspectives shape their awareness of others, she continues. “How you see me is not fact,” she says. “It’s your perception of who I am.” So, counselors must be “aware of what shapes those perceptions and then be able to constantly trigger [themselves] to be mindful of those things when interacting with colleagues, students, clients [and] communities,” she adds.

White argues that the profession needs to figure out a way to make diversity training a requirement throughout a counselor’s professional development. For example, she suggests requiring counselors to take a set number of continuing education credits on anti-Black racism.

Counselor educators should also consider if nonwhite counseling students have the same opportunities as their white counterparts when it comes to mentorship and financial assistance, Butler says. It may be helpful to engage in some self-reflection: Are you overlooking working with nonwhite students on a research project? Who receives graduate assistantships in your department? Do mainly white students receive the more desirable graduate assistantships? How do you think nonwhite counseling students perceive you as their instructor or feel about the ways they are treated within your courses? 

Early in Nadrich’s career as a counselor educator, he wrote in his academic profile that he was passionate about mentoring and supporting students of color. Another colleague approached him and asked if his statement would dissuade white students from working with him. Although Nadrich was an untenured new faculty member, he declined to change his profile because he wanted to uphold his own beliefs. He told the colleague it would be OK if some white students didn’t come to see him because of his statement. 

Nadrich points out that his colleague’s comment contained two incorrect assumptions. First, it assumed that white students didn’t already have a large number of staff, faculty and professionals who looked like them and shared similar experiences to go to for support and resources while students of color did. Second, it assumed that Nadrich stating his passion for working with students of color was harmful even though stating other professional preferences, such as a passion for behavioral neuroscience or socioeconomic disparities, would have been viewed as less threatening.

Bridging the gap 

Bosley says it breaks his heart when people still insist they are colorblind anytime the specter of racism is raised. They may think they are making him feel better by uttering such statements, but they are in fact saying that they don’t see race rather than addressing it directly. The message they are sending is that “they don’t even think enough of me to try to see me,” he says. 

Nadrich teaches his counseling students why it is harmful to always look to underrepresented groups to explain themselves, the injustices they face and what others should do to help. “You have to figure out what it means to be you and how you can start bridging the gap between your identities and the identities of the people you serve and work with,” he says. 

If Nadrich is working with an adolescent woman of color, for example, then he knows his identity as a person of color might help bridge the gap between them. But he also recognizes that his identity as a man could widen the gap depending on the client’s own history and experiences. “I have to be cognizant of that,” Nadrich says, “and say overtly to myself, ‘How am I going to make sure that I’m bridging across gender in this situation?’”

And in speaking to his white colleagues, Nadrich asks, “Are you willing to be affected by my lived experience? Are you willing for my lived experience to be relevant to yours or necessary to yours when it doesn’t have to be?” 

Nadrich is grateful for the colleagues who don’t avoid the issue and demonstrate a willingness to bridge this gap. “If you’re willing to be affected by it, now you hear me,” he says. “Now you know what’s going on with me and people like me.”

 

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Lindsey Phillips is the senior editor for Counseling Today. Contact her at lphillips@counseling.org.

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Responding to the increase of hate crimes against Asians and Asian Americans

By Yumiko Ogawa, Yi-Ju Cheng, Yung-Wei Dennis Lin and Terence Yee June 2, 2021

Violent attacks on Asians and Asian Americans (A/AA) have increased exponentially since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. According to data from the Center for the Study of Hate and Extremism, although the number of overall hate crimes in the United States’ largest cities decreased by 6% in 2020 compared with 2019, anti-Asian hate crimes soared by nearly 150%. Cities with the largest increases in anti-Asian hate crimes included New York City (833% increase), Philadelphia (200% increase), Cleveland (200% increase) and San Jose, California (150% increase). 

According to data from Stop AAPI Hate, 3,795 cases of anti-Asian hate incidents were received by its reporting center between March 19, 2020, and Feb. 28, 2021. Verbal harassment made up the majority of the reported hate incidents (68.1%), followed by avoidance or shunning (20.5%), physical assault (11.1%), civil rights violations such as refusal of service (8.5%) and online harassment (6.8%). Media coverage of hate crimes against A/AA reached a fever pitch after the horrific killings of six Asian women in the Atlanta metropolitan area and the physical assaults in New York City of a Chinese woman who was slapped and set on fire, a Filipino American man who was slashed across his face with a box cutter, a Thai immigrant who died after being shoved to the ground, and a Filipino American woman who was suddenly kicked in her stomach and head repeatedly in broad daylight. 

Like those in other ethnic groups, A/AA experiencing racial discrimination may develop mental health concerns such as generalized anxiety, panic disorder, depressive disorder, a low level of life satisfaction, low self-esteem, sleep problems, low appetite and even suicidal ideation. On top of these potential mental health concerns, the recent violent attacks may have caused many A/AA individuals to become hypervigilant or even fearful in public more frequently and to constantly worry about the safety of their families and friends. 

These attacks and harassments immediately drew heightened attention in many professional fields, including counseling. Professional counseling organizations such as the American Counseling Association, the Association for Multicultural Counseling and Development, and the Association for Assessment and Research in Counseling have responded to anti-Asian hate crimes through official statements, specific research grant releases and other supportive actions. At the same time, individual counselors should also recognize our ethical obligation to nondiscrimination and social justice. According to the 2014 ACA Code of Ethics, professional counselors are responsible for providing nondiscriminatory counseling services (Standard C.5.), advocating for individuals who are underserved or experience barriers to services (A.7.a.), and contributing to the public good (C.6.e.). 

So, what should and can professional counselors do to respond to anti-Asian hate crimes? Perhaps, the very first step is to gain a deeper understanding, especially about the hidden factors and prejudices that might have historically contributed to the discrimination behind anti-Asian hatred.

Lev Radin/Shutterstock.com

Contributing factors

Various factors contribute to the increase in anti-Asian hate crimes. One of the most visible and widely debated factors is the use of racist language (especially by influential public figures) such as “China virus,” “Wuhan virus” and “kung flu.” The use of such language provides permission or license for others to express their deeply held prejudices. Researchers have coined this phenomenon the “emboldening effect.” There are many other myths, however, that have fostered the prejudices that we, as a nation, have toward A/AA.

One hidden prejudice could be that A/AA are viewed as perpetual foreigners. Seemingly innocuous questions such as “Where are you from?”; “Where are you really from?”; and “What’s your real name?” perpetuate this belief, with the underlying assumption being that they cannot be from the U.S. and their English-sounding name is not their real name. This belief that A/AA are foreigners extends to the entertainment industry. Take the movies Minari and The Farewell, for example. Despite being American-made films, both movies were ineligible for the Golden Globes’ best picture category. Instead, they were relegated to the best foreign language film category because much of the movies’ dialogue was not in English. The implicit message here is that A/AA experiences are not American enough or, even worse, that these populations are always viewed as being foreigners/outsiders. Such perspective relegates A/AA populations to some kind of marginalized status and also fosters disdain or hostility among many Americans toward them.

Another hidden prejudice is the model minority myth. This myth perpetuates the belief that A/AA are the most successful minority due to their hard work, focus on education and community support. There are three problems with this myth. 

First, the myth paints a monolithic picture of the Asian community when there can be huge disparity within the different Asian diasporas. For example, Bhutanese Americans experience a higher poverty rate than do other Asian groups, such as Japanese Americans. Second, the internalization of this myth puts enormous pressure on A/AA to succeed, which can negatively affect their mental health. 

Third, and perhaps most damaging, is that this myth perpetuates another myth: the myth of meritocracy. The underlying message is that the Asian community has transcended decades of racism because of their hard work; therefore, if an individual (or a particular group) is not as successful, it is assumed to be due to their lack of effort rather than systemic injustice. This line of thought effectively creates a wedge between different minority communities in the U.S. and
maintains the status quo of white privilege and supremacy.

Collectivism may be another significant but often neglected factor. The majority of A/AA populations share a belief that their identity lies within a group, such as their family, a specific community or even collective society (see Derald Wing Sue and David Sue’s Counseling the Culturally Diverse: Theory and Practice). Growing up and living in such collectivistic culture, A/AA individuals are typically educated to honor harmony and avoid conflict, and gradually they develop a tendency to be compliant and quiet or to keep away from standing out, even in a positive manner. 

Coupled with this sense of collectivism, many historical policies, such as the Chinese Exclusion Act, have silenced the A/AA community. To survive, A/AA populations learned to be self-reliant and not bring attention to issues surrounding the A/AA community. Sayings such as “keep your head down” and “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down” are common mantras that A/AA individuals typically hear from their parents and grandparents. Thus, when they experience unfair treatment, bullying, discrimination or even violence, they tend to tolerate it and choose not to report. Although the collectivistic way of being in no way causes hate crimes against A/AA individuals, perpetrators of hate crimes may perceive members of the A/AA community to be easy targets because of their lack of self-advocacy. 

Many A/AA people have internalized the model minority myth and developed a condition of worth around it. They believe they should be exemplars for others and succeed in various aspects of their lives — socially, academically and financially. Otherwise, they “fail.” In fact, one study reported that Asian American college students were more susceptible than other ethnic minority college students to experiencing feelings of being impostors. Failure to tolerate the discrimination and preserve the collective honor of becoming a model minority may result in a sense of guilt, bringing shame to the family, community or society. 

The perception of A/AA as foreigners has also become an inhibitor to self-advocacy. There are legal and political histories that have contributed to this perception, but a lack of English proficiency, the presence of prominent accents and the use of nonalphabetic characters are also believed to promote their “foreigner” status, discouraging them from voicing their experiences of racism and discrimination. 

Furthermore, some A/AA populations may have inherited the feeling of “indebtedness” to America from the first generation of Asian immigrants. Many Asians immigrated to the U.S. for better educational, economic and employment opportunities, especially for their children. Some Asian immigrants also fled to the U.S. to avoid human rights abuses and nondemocratic rule in their own countries. Early Asian immigrants may thus rationalize the racism they experience in America as the price of admission they need to pay to this country.

Emerging voice and hope

However, since the surge of xenophobia toward A/AA resulting from the COVID-19 pandemic, A/AA have been taking more active and vocal roles to advocate for the realization of their rights. Stop AAPI Hate, sponsored by multiple organizations, was established in March 2020 to stand united against racism and hate that targets Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) communities. In addition, the news media has been highlighting the escalation of hate crimes against A/AA. In March, Democrats in the House of Representatives held the first congressional hearing on anti-Asian discrimination in three decades.

Several factors, such as the utilization of social media and the increased representation of A/AA in entertainment, politics, sports and executive roles, are conducive for this somewhat unusual movement among A/AA to make new cracks in the “bamboo ceiling.” We want to highlight two other plausible factors: a demographic change within the U.S. and a generational change among A/AA. 

Many A/AA grow up in a collectivistic cultural background that encourages the pursuit of harmony with others (in particular, others in the majority) and values showing respect toward others who are higher in the social hierarchy. The fact is that minority populations are becoming a majority in the U.S. Activism against racial injustice, for civil and human rights, and for equity for themselves is becoming a part of the discourse of this new majority. A/AA are drawing inspiration from activist movements, such as Black Lives Matter, that have emerged out of other underrepresented communities. Even as we recognize the divisions between minority communities and their different histories of suffering, there is a chance to continue the history of solidarity for those who have been kept in subordinate positions.

Generational change is another significant factor. Second, third and even younger generations of immigrants are often substantially better off on several socioeconomic attainments such as income, education and homeownership than their parents who migrated to the United States, according to Pew Research Center analysis. These individuals are more assimilated to the U.S. culture and more astute to the issues of inequality and social justice than their parents or grandparents are or were. Thus, thoughts about racial identity and racism may be quite different between younger generations of A/AA and early Asian immigrants. 

For example, younger A/AA individuals may naturally claim their identity as Americans and thus may not possess the deep indebtedness that was part of their parents’ or grandparents’ experience. In addition, whereas early Asian immigrants typically embraced collectivism and harmony, younger A/AA generations may prioritize equality and social justice. Even the use of technology makes a difference between A/AA generations. Younger A/AA individuals are much more familiar and comfortable with using social media to communicate their thoughts and advocate. All of these generational changes have contributed to raising a stronger voice against anti-Asian hatred.  

Suggestions for counselors

Highlighting issues surrounding the A/AA community is a step in the right direction because it combats the invisibility of A/AA experiences. Efforts to include the A/AA community in the discourse should be consistent rather than a one-time event. We offer a few suggestions for counselors on starting and maintaining the conversation. 

1) Practice self-reflection: If you are a counselor educator or supervisor, have you talked or facilitated discussion in your class or with your students/supervisees about the escalation of hate crimes and discrimination against A/AA? If so, why? If not, why? If you pause and examine your thoughts, feelings and physical reactions, what do they tell you about your perceptions or hidden beliefs regarding A/AA populations?

2) Broach the conversation: After the mass shooting in the Atlanta area in March, each of the authors of this article were reached out to by friends, colleagues, former professors and even their students. We all appreciated and felt touched by even short messages such as “How are you doing?”; “I am just thinking about you”; and “I am grateful you are in my life.” There might be hesitation to bring national news to an individual level, but we encourage counselors to reach out if they think about doing it. These gestures can make many A/AA individuals feel cared for and assured that they are part of the larger community in the U.S. 

3) Voice concern about exclusion of A/AA: We noticed that some organizations were offering multicultural training on racial minority groups that did not include A/AA or having diversity committees without an A/AA representative. Reaching out to organizations to address the need for the inclusion of topics related to the A/AA community or individuals from an A/AA background is advocacy work that we all can engage in. 

4) Reach out to your elected officials: Email or call your local elected officials and ask them about specific bills and votes that affect A/AA communities. Express your concern and support for A/AA in your community. The National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum (napawf.org) has a petition page that suggests elected officials focus on fighting systemic racism and address the needs of survivors and the affected community.  

5) Reach out and enhance counseling accessibility to A/AA populations: We encourage counselor educators and professional counselors to consider providing support groups for A/AA individuals on campus and in the community. Professional counselors could collaborate with local elementary, middle and high schools to provide individual counseling, support groups or psychoeducation sessions not only for A/AA students but also for their parents and families. Professional counselors may also consider posting mental health service information specifically related to A/AA populations and anti-Asian hate crimes on their professional websites. Asian mental health communities such as the Asian Mental Health Collective (asianmhc.org) provide lists of Asian counselors. 

6) Provide education in the community to foster mutual understanding and promote equality: Share your knowledge on mental health and multiculturalism with people in your community. For example, local public libraries often hold workshops and presentations. Professional counselors can use such channels to help people in the community gain a better understanding of the impact of racism and discrimination on their daily functioning.  

Conclusion

As we were working on this article, continual occurrences of hate crimes (as of April 24, the latest being the mass shooting at an Indianapolis FedEx facility that killed four Sikhs, among others) prompted us to revise the manuscript multiple times. The addition of each hate crime example added heaviness and fear to our hearts. This feeling of heaviness and fear is a glimpse into the world of racism. 

Hate crimes/violent crimes against A/AA are not a new phenomenon, and racist acts are occurring on a daily basis. However, these acts often receive attention only when they result in mass shootings, viral videos or sensationalized coverage in the media. Then, gradually, the attention fades away. 

One of our co-authors, Terence Yee, remembers a comic strip in which everyone wants change, but fewer people want to change, and even fewer want to lead the change. The fact that anti-Asian hate/violent crimes have captured national attention and people are talking about them is progress. This progress is giving us something to ponder: Now that we know it, what will we do with it?

 

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Yumiko Ogawa is an associate professor in the Department of Counselor Education at New Jersey City University. She has more than 25 years of clinical experience in various settings. In addition, she has been providing play therapy training in the U.S., Japan and the Philippines. She is a co-founder of the Play Therapy in Asia Summit. Contact her at yogawa@njcu.edu.

Yi-Ju Cheng is an assistant professor in the counseling program at Rider University. She is a licensed professional counselor and registered play therapist whose clinical and research interests center on children and their families from diverse cultural backgrounds.

Yung-Wei Dennis Lin is an associate professor in the Counselor Education Department at New Jersey City University. He came from Taiwan and has resided in the U.S. for 17 years.

Terence Yee is an assistant professor in the Department of Education and Counseling at Villanova University. Being an immigrant from Malaysia and identifying as Malaysian-Chinese, his research interest includes the experiences of international counselor educators and international students. He has a private practice that serves predominantly Asian and Black men.

Counseling Today reviews unsolicited articles written by American Counseling Association members. To access writing guidelines and tips for having an article accepted for publication, visit ct.counseling.org/feedback. 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.