08/07/2025
How does They see me?
As a therapist, I try to meet every client with openness, presence, and respect. I do my best to create a space where people can be fully themselves. But I also know that when a genderqueer person walks into my office for the first time, they might be carrying a weight that I can’t see right away. It makes me wonder, how do they see me? Who do they expect me to be? How do they expect me to see them? Are they looking for clues in my body language, my choice of words, my intake form? Are they bracing for assumptions? Bracing for that moment when I misgender them, or ask something that makes them feel like a curiosity instead of a person? I think about how many times they might’ve had to explain themselves in spaces that weren’t built with them in mind. How often they’ve had to educate, correct, and smile through it. And I wonder if they’re already wondering about me. Do I seem like someone who gets it? Am I another therapist who’s going to ask “What does genderqueer mean?” in a way that puts the weight of explanation on them, again? Will they leave the session feeling seen, or just tolerated?
Even when my intentions are good, whatever that means, I have to ask myself: How might I be experienced? I might think of my curiosity as warm, human, even essential to the therapeutic relationship. But what if it lands as something else? What if it feels, to them, like being examined or interpreted — like having to hand over the tools for their own visibility? What if they’re sitting across from me, already tired of being interesting?
These are things I can’t know unless I’m paying very close attention — not just to their words, but to what’s not being said. To the subtle shifts. To see how quickly they respond to certain questions. Whether they seem to relax into the space, or hold themselves just slightly apart. And it’s not about performing perfect allyship or having all the right language. It’s about being attuned. Being honest. Being willing to hold space for the discomfort that might already be in the room — even if I didn’t put it there. I don’t need my clients to teach me how to be a better therapist. That’s my work. But I do want to be someone they don’t have to brace against. So when a genderqueer person walks through my door, I try to remember: I might be the first therapist who really sees them, or just the next in a long line of people who said they did.