was also informed other staff thought they were scary, weird or aggressive for not dressing in ‘female clothing’. Others’ experiences were of more everyday microaggressions.


Microaggressions are casual degradations made against marginalised groups (Nadal et al., 2012). In the case of non- binary therapists, common microaggressions included being consistently misgendered at counselling conferences and – on expressing discomfort at this – receiving the defensive responses that they were somehow making others’ lives diffi cult. Some also spoke of fellow therapists pressuring them not to disclose their gender to clients, or interrogating them about how their gender identity might impact clients in a way they would never do for a cisgender therapist. Other common microaggressions non-binary people experience include using the wrong pronoun, or claiming that non-binary pronouns are too complicated or grammatically incorrect, trying to fi gure out the gender someone was assigned at birth, and asking inappropriately intrusive questions about genitals or medical interventions. However, none of the non-binary therapists I spoke with


actually reported any problems with clients. Many of the therapists found they were deliberately sought out by trans and non-binary clients and spoke of the importance of this work, given the terrible experience that many gender-diverse clients still have in therapy (Davies & Barker, 2015a). Alex spoke of get ing “to witness clients internalising the ‘good enough therapist’ so they become much kinder towards themselves”. T ey said, “It’s a privilege to be part of, especially when working with NB/trans clients”. Imani said, “I have found that for many minority clients just working with someone who gets any aspect of their minority experience seems to be a huge relief – they don’t feel they have to bat le for empathy”. Refl ecting on work with cisgender clients, another therapist


said their gender “enhanced the therapeutic connection. Bridging genders perhaps helps take away f om stereotyped ideas of what a male or female therapist is or off ers. Interestingly, it’s not even been an issue with uber macho ‘anger management’ male clients who still engage well”. Imani said, “I could write a paper on the usefulness of identifying as genderqueer in the service of a number of diff erent intersectional identifi ed client’s transference / self-object needs”. My own experience echoes this. As I’ve explored in various


writings (Barker, 2013; Richards & Barker, 2013; Barker & Richards, 2017; Barker & Scheele, 2016), a rigidly enforced gender binary is strongly linked with mental health struggles in cisgender people as well as in trans people. Also, we now know that over a third of people experience themselves as something other than simply man or woman (see Barker & Richards, 2015; Hegarty et al., forthcoming 2017). I’ve had several cisgender- identifi ed clients who have expressed feeling more able to explore multiple facets of their gendered experience in therapy with me. I also remember one male couple I assessed who, when I asked if they had a preference for gender of therapist, said that one of them would prefer a female therapist as they got on bet er with women, and the other would prefer a male therapist for the same reason. T ey then both turned to me and, almost in unison, said that they felt comfortable with me! Such experiences support the argument that Alex Iantaffi and I make in our self- help book on gender, that it is helpful for all of us to examine our gendered experience, not just non-binary and trans people (Iantaffi & Barker, 2017).


32


Non-binary therapists made diff erent choices when


navigating their own gender with clients. Some had a gender expression that meant self-disclosure was automatic – as it is with so many male and female therapists, due to cultural assumptions that people’s gender can be read off their appearance. Others knew they were unlikely to be read as non-binary by clients unless they self-disclosed in words, except perhaps in the case of non-binary clients who might pick up on the signals. Some were going through changes in gender expression, which meant client assumptions were likely to change at some point. Depending on their approach and the client groups they were working with, therapists either mentioned their gender to everybody, to nobody, or only in specifi c cases, or where a client vocalised an assumption. T is was one area where non-binary therapists would appreciate more support, as is the question of engaging with non-binary offl ine and online spaces. Two therapists spoke of their sadness at having to withdraw from such supportive spaces because it was important clients were able to access them: another reason why non-binary therapist specifi c spaces are important.


Systemic changes In the experiences of overt and indirect aggression therapists


reported through training and into their current interactions with other therapists and therapeutic services, there were clear intersections between their non-binary status and other aspects of their identity and background. For example, one respondent reported people on their training making them “acutely aware of my working class background and my lack of education” as well as their non-normative gender. A non-binary person of colour on a course dominated by white people was told, “You clearly would not fi t in here” and they “doubted, as a working-class person, I could aff ord it”. Such experiences clearly exacerbate the sense of marginalisation and exclusion already experienced by non- binary trainees and therapists. Multiply marginalised people were oſt en far more likely to report overt discrimination and a sense of barriers being placed in the way of their progression. Based on the experiences reported here, it is small wonder


that the therapy profession remains so white, middle-class, heteronormative and cisnormative (Davies & Barker, 2015a & b). T ose who were in positions of privilege in other areas of life, such as race and class, were clear that provided something of a buff er against the oppression they faced because of their gender. T ere is a strong sense, as a non-binary person, that your gender is already enough – or too much – for others to handle, and that it is outrageous to ask people also to make adjustments for a disability, health, or fi nancial-access need, for example. However, it is also important not to make assumptions


about the way intersections will play out. While one respondent reported the move from a working class rural area to a more middle class urban one had enabled them to transition, another said, “I live in an impoverished former industrial area, classic working class community, where it would be easy to imagine it as diffi cult to be out. But experience has shown that the reverse to be true. My private practice ... continues to thrive”. T ose who work in explicitly trans or LGBTQ+ services


seemed to have the easiest time of it. For example, Jos said, “I can request ‘they’ pronouns and probably about 40% of people get it correct and I don’t have to spend time explaining what NB or


Context 155, February 2018


Being a non-binary therapist within a binary therapy system


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