BLACK MARRIAGES vs MENTAL HEALTH CARE: BREAKING UP BLACK FAMILIES

BLACK MARRIAGES vs MENTAL HEALTH CARE: BREAKING UP BLACK FAMILIES

TAKE HEED BEFORE TRUSTING A THIRD PARTY WITH YOUR RELATIONSHIP.

Sources: Huffpost, YouTube

Most Licensed Marriage Therapists actually practice pre-divorce counseling disguised as marriage counseling.

Many BLACK Couples say marriage counseling caused more harm than good for their relationship because the Therapist took sides.

Take heed before trusting a Licensed "Marriage" Therapist to help you and your spouse work through relationship issues.

You just may find yourself in Divorce Court.

***** Marriage Counselors: Things They Don’t Want You To Know

You’re ready to talk and — finally — so is your spouse. But who can you trust when your heart, time and money are on the line?

Here are the 10 things your marriage counselor won’t say.

1. I have no business giving relationship advice.

Divorce rates for baby boomers have doubled in the past 20 years, with one in four couples over age 50 calling it quits by 2009, according to a study from Bowling Green State University released earlier this summer. Although overall figures have fallen in recent years, some estimates still put the divorce rate for all new marriages at roughly 50%. But couples looking to stave off a split may want to choose their expert help with care. Training and experience levels among purveyors of marriage advice run the gamut from never-took-Psych-101 to spent-more-time-in-school-than-your-doctor.

State-licensed psychologists, psychiatrists, mental health counselors and social workers can all offer sessions for couples, as can licensed marriage and family therapists. To earn the latter distinction, therapists are required by states to get at least a master’s degree in the discipline and a passing score on a national licensing exam, followed by a set number of client hours — from 1,500 hours in New York to 3,000 in Texas — under the supervision of another fully licensed practitioner. But pretty much anyone can hang out a shingle as a marriage coach, relationship adviser or other uniquely labeled provider of “alternative marriage counseling” — they just can’t call the services “therapy.” License or no, experts say the risk for consumers is that it’s so easy to pick a provider who doesn’t have the education or skills to solve their problems.

A license provides a baseline — the client knows that the therapist has experience and education in the field, which isn’t guaranteed with unlicensed providers, says Chris Van Deusen, a spokesman for the Texas Department of State Health Services, which oversees licensing. It’s no guarantee, however. Couples should ask about the provider’s overall qualifications, says Dr. Karen Ruskin, a Boston-based licensed marriage therapist and clinical member of the American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy. For example, an unlicensed provider might well have earned a psychology degree or completed training or certification courses in relevant areas. Pastors and other religious leaders can get counseling certifications or even qualify as a state-licensed pastoral therapist. 

Some licensed professionals, on the other hand, may offer services to couples as a side effort but lack marriage-specific training, she says. 

Plus, many of the consumer complaints about marriage therapists that Texas receives each year are linked back to therapists who are practicing despite having an expired license, says Van Deusen. 

Most state departments of health services maintain a database consumers can check to confirm a provider’s licensing status, and to see any complaints that have been logged against him or her.

2. You’re not going to make it.

Dr. John Gottman, who developed the Gottman Method of couples therapy and co-founded the Gottman Relationship Institute that certifies therapists in the method, has another claim to fame: He has said his studies in the field enable him to predict within minutes of meeting a couple whether they will eventually divorce, with better than 90% accuracy. 

Just don’t expect Gottman (who wasn’t available for an interview) or any other therapist to tell you flat out, says Dr. Dave Penner, a licensed clinical psychologist and the assistant clinical director at the Gottman institute. “You don’t say to a couple, ‘Too bad, you’ve got all the predictors of divorce,’” he says. 

That’s not conducive to therapy, which is about changing those behaviors, he says. (Of course, telling a couple that their chances of resolution are nil would also mean they’d stop going to — and paying for — counseling sessions. 

But therapists say hiding information just to keep clients coming isn’t ethical.) A 2005 Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology study found that five years after receiving eight months of therapy, half of couples said their relationships had improved. A quarter were divorced, and the remaining 25% were still having problems.

Couples may be able to pick up a few cues, however. A practitioner might point out that a couple has major challenges ahead, or is exhibiting some characteristics that can lead to divorce, says Penner. 

Expect to be called out if you’re obviously coming in just to go through the motions, but not to attempt actual improvement, says Dr. Lynda Doyle, a licensed marriage therapist in Yarmis, Maine. “You can tell somebody’s already checked out of the relationship,” she says. “I’ll tell them they can do fake therapy for another five sessions if they want, or try the real thing.

3. I like your partner better than I like you.

Over the course of trying to resolve marital problems during the ‘90s, John Wilder of Midway, Ga., and his then-wife saw nine different marriage therapists. None of them helped, says Wilder, who has a bachelor’s degree in behavioral science and has since trained as a marriage coach. 

His main gripe: He contends that because the counselors didn’t address problems equally, they did more harm than good.

It’s not uncommon for couples to feel like their practitioner is playing favorites, and that won’t help them solve any problems, says attorney Kenneth Altshuler, president of the American Academy of Matrimonial Lawyers and husband to marriage therapist Doyle. (The two say they don’t refer clients to each other.) It can also make a divorce more acrimonious.

Therapists say that most of the time, any imbalance is inadvertent. With two people sharing session time, it’s not easy for even an experienced counselor to split attention 50-50, says Doyle. 

Or one person may be more comfortable with the therapist or the style of therapy than their partner, leading to a sense of unfairness. The couple’s issues can also be more weighted toward one party — say, if one has committed adultery — in a way that leads to a more imbalanced talk. 

Couples shouldn’t be shy about bringing up perceived favoritism during sessions, or about asking for another referral if they feel balance isn’t restored, says Doyle.

4. I’ve got my own baggage.

Styles can vary widely among therapists, coaches and other practitioners, and that’s not something that’s typically apparent by looking at their listings in the phone book or on an insurer’s website, says Dr. Arshad Rahim, a vice president with physician data and review site HealthGrades.com. 

Traditional counseling is primarily about solving the problems, but there’s also the relatively new field of “discernment counseling” that has the specific aim of helping couples decide whether to stay together or divorce. Some practitioners are more pro-marriage than others too. 

The therapist’s personal history may also have an influence, says Altschuler. “I tell clients, you need to find out about the marriage counselor,” he says. “Is that person divorced, or going through a divorce?”The best approach is a direct one: Ask them, preferably before booking an appointment.

Most of the time, though, the practitioner’s approach isn’t “wrong”; it’s just not a good fit for the couple — which makes the sessions unlikely to be successful, says Rahim. Even if the couple decides to go elsewhere after one session, their bill can still amount to several hundred dollars. 

Ruskin suggests asking for a free phone consultation before scheduling an appointment. “Ask them to describe how they feel marriage problems are resolved,” she says. Wilder says many coaches also offer free in-person consultations or a money-back guarantee if the couple feels the first paid session wasn’t helpful.

5. Anything you say can be used against you — in divorce court.

Something called “therapist-patient privilege” typically keeps your mental health professional from divulging details of your private sessions in a court of law or elsewhere. But that privilege applies to one-on-one relationships, says Altschuler. “When a marriage counselor sees two people, arguably there’s no confidentiality, since there are three people in the room,” he says. State law on that point varies, and unlicensed experts seeing couples often have less legal standing to claim that information revealed during their sessions was privileged. (The American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy’s code of ethics requires therapists to disclose any limits to clients’ right of confidentiality.)

Most courts try to keep marriage counselors out of the proceedings, though, unless they are testifying to something serious, Altschuler says. Most of the cases where he’s seen a marriage therapist testify focused on admissions of abuse that were made in session. It’s more common that seeing a marriage counselor simplifies a divorce, he says, by helping a client figure out what they want and how best to proceed.

BEYONCÉ EXPOSES LEMONADE RELATIONSHIPS: ARE YOU IN ONE?

BEYONCÉ EXPOSES LEMONADE RELATIONSHIPS: ARE YOU IN ONE?

HOW MUCH WILL IT COST A WOMAN EMOTIONALLY & MENTALLY TO REMAIN IN AN LEMONADE RELATIONSHIP?

Sources:  Glamour, Billboard, YouTube

***** How Beyoncé's Lemonade Gave Black Women Permission to Be Emotional Without Shame

Almost a year ago, I was in the throes of a heart-wrenching breakup. It broke me. I had anchored my happiness and future into this one man, but, as British-Somali poet Warsan Shire says, you can’t make homes out of human beings. 

The linear, quick grieving process I had hoped for was nowhere in sight; It was long and excruciating. To make matters worse, I was suffering in silence because of prying eyes from our mutual industry peers. 

Finally, 10 months post-heartbreak, the words just poured out of me. I exhaled. Some months later, a woman (one of many he had had in and out of his bed) texted me. She had read my piece and tried to shame me—using my own words with her own dig: “Today is the day. Let go.” That’s the thing about getting emotional and showing your vulnerability—speaking your feelings is no guarantee of empathy. Even from other women. 

But Beyoncé's Lemonade allows black women to be angry and crazy because of that hurt and then to heal once we’ve recognized our power. And this, to me, is the true crux of Beyoncé’s Lemonade: For years, women have been called "crazy" or worse for showing their real emotions—and black women most of all.

women often aren’t allowed to be weak. Breaking is not an option, so we walk around Gucci down to the socks to cover the emotions we're told not to feel. Being given lemons and making lemonade is not only what we’ve always done—it’s what’s expected. 

We aren’t allowed to be angry or loud—even the First Lady got the Angry Black Woman label for expressing herself eloquently. We aren't allowed to be weak. We aren’t allowed to feel depleted. It defies the superhuman strength gene we are believed to carry—there’s a reason medical professionals think we feel less pain. Forget about being bitter. We are meant to be sturdy mules, carrying the weight of the world on our backs. But in private—and with our black girlfriends—we are free. 

Lemonade channels that feeling of freedom, giving black women the space to have intense emotions—to be angry and devastated by hurt—and then to heal. It rips off the mask and affirms that our feelings are valid, that we are powerful.

I wrote on Facebook about Lemonade being the journey of women coming into our own, realizing our power, and letting love be transformative, and a friend, in tears, told me: “Healing is so, so hard.” She said she had finally been able to admit that she was still mourning the dissolution of a five-year relationship. Beyoncé did that for us. She took our hand and said, "I know. I know."

Lemonade takes 11 acts to bring us from Intuition to Redemption, passing Denial, Anger, and Emptiness along the way. Beyoncé understands the transformative power of love in women's lives, and she uses Lemonade as a vessel to show black womanhood in its fullness—the peaks and the valleys. With "I tried to change.

 Closed my mouth more. Prettier, softer, less awake," Beyoncé makes us confront ourselves: How many times have we shrunk or contorted ourselves into bubblier and less-opinionated versions of who we are with the hopes that he’d stay? Bey has been guilty of this very thing. If a successful, beautiful superstar is not immune to shrinking herself for a man, there is no shame for us to have done it. Bey understands. Even she isn't exempt from comparing herself to "Becky with the good hair."

In Anger, Beyoncé is a sight of glory. Wearing a mustard yellow dress—a nod to the orisha Oshun—we see her breaking windows and asking, "What’s worse? Looking jealous or crazy, jealous and crazy? Or like, being walked all over lately...I’d rather be crazy.” Anger is held over black women’s head so much we sit in a pit of guilt just for feeling it, but Beyoncé just laughs through the rage. I imagine her laughing at this idea that women can’t react to the hurt men cause us. Anger fuels the realization of who she is. “Who the fuck you think I is?" she asks. "You ain’t married to no average bitch, boy.” In Apathy, Beyoncé tells us, “I ain’t sorry"—a pointed statement in a world where women seem to always be apologizing, even when we're not in the wrong. “Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name?” Beyoncé wants us to remember our own names because it’s not about him. She’s refusing to be sacrificial for love. She’s throwing away victimhood. She is the captain of her own ship. “I’mma keep running ‘cause winners don’t quit themselves.” The pop star wants us to bank on ourselves every single time.

In the end, loving herself is Beyoncé's salvation. “True love brought salvation back in to me," she sings. "Every tear became my remedy.” At the end of Lemonade, black women gather in the kitchen to cook soul food—a healing aid, to be sure—and Jay Z's grandmother describes making lemons out of lemonade. The power in matriarchies and sisterhood are solidified, crucial to our redemption. Loving ourselves will be our own salvation.

This ode to black women—because, truly, that’s what Lemonade is—reflects our own power back to us. That power does not only exist in being strong and confident and composed. That power is deeply connected to our raw emotions and our vulnerability.

I love that Beyoncé shows black women in all our beauty, from the elders to the black futurists (Quvenzhané Wallis and Amandla Stenberg); from the black queer women to Serena Williams; from the civil rights icon Leah Chase to the black mothers of sons slain by police violence; from black women with natural hair to symbolism of West African spiritual orishas. 

She wanted us to see the goddess in ourselves—and for the world to see it too. 

I don’t know if Lemonade is about Beyoncé’s marriage to Jay Z or if she’s channeling emotions through her mother’s public divorce from her father. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it's neither.

 What’s way more important than the speculation is that she used her platform to bring us back to ourselves when we needed a reminder. 

When we need a reminder that our natural curvy hips don’t make us “manly,” she showed us Serena twerking in a bodysuit. 

When we need a reminder that our culture is valuable long before it’s Columbused, she gave us images of black women in cornrows (re: not boxer braids). She reminded us that a black president and his black wife made it into the White House in racist America. 

She reminded us through a country song that there is no box they can place on our talents. She reminded us that we are not just our suffering—joy is always near. She reminded us that we must tell our own stories. 

We must uplift other black women. She reminded us that no matter what they say the work is what will last. She reminded us that sharing our stories—even at their most vulnerable—helps us shed the weight of carrying it all alone.

Beyoncé gave black women permission to be hurt, be angry, cry, doubt ourselves, feel empty, love hard, all without apologies. That our vulnerability is nothing to be ashamed of. And when we’re done feeling, we mustn’t ever forget the god within us. Because on the other side of healing we can move mountains. “If we’re going to heal, let it be glorious.”