I attended a training session on social power imbalances in the therapy room, led by an experienced facilitator who had published a book on the subject. The workshop’s theme ironically promised to unpack social inequality and look at what happens when therapists don’t feel the power. Because my own practice focuses heavily on how lived experience can remove a client’s burden of over-explaining, I asked how this foundational framework could be integrated within contexts of social privilege.
Without hesitation, my question was met with a standard institutional warning against relying too heavily on one’s own frame of reference. Other participants quickly chimed in, sharing cautionary tales of times they thought they understood a client, only for it to backfire. My attempt to introduce a simple analogy (that it is far easier to describe a bonobo to someone who already understands what a monkey is) did not land. I let the matter rest.
Later in the session, the facilitator relied exclusively on a highly academic reading list for further study, perfectly illustrating the core of my issue. Because nothing screams ‘dismantling power imbalances’ quite like a reading list for the academic elite. I asked a direct question: ‘How can true inclusion be achieved when we rely heavily on academic writing? There are in my experience so many diverse learning styles out there?’ I listed a few, like podcasts, art exhibitions, and social media.
The response was predictable, standard, and entirely institutional. The system, it seems, always moves to protect itself.