The Myth of the Neutral Therapist

Written by Blake Macurdy, LPC

** Spoiler Alert from the jump: I am not a neutral therapist. And whether your therapist will admit to you or not, neither are they. **

One of the most widely perpetuated untruths that exists in relation to therapy is that in order to be a “good therapist”, one must be neutral. Blank slate. Tabula Rasa, if you’re feeling fancy. The idea is that therapists should simply exist in the therapy room as a decorative warm body with no opinions or facial expressions, only to offer an impartial head nod and occasionally utter acceptable phrases such as, “how does that make you feel?” or “tell me more about that.” Personality? Political stance? Humanity? Allegedly these are a board-certified liability.

Now, do not get me wrong, I go full-on dance mom when it comes to encouraging a client’s experience to take center stage. I recognize, as all therapists should, that a client’s therapy is not about me. There is so much value in a well-placed pause or stoicism. But I am still in the room, and I am not neutral. Neutrality is unacceptable because neutrality is privilege. A privilege that can, and so often does, become a weapon.

When a client has the courage to share their identity with you – sometimes for the first time ever – and express their fears of coming out to their family; I cannot shrug dismissively and say, “Well, they might have some valid points, too.”

When a client is paralyzed by shame and physically exhausted by trying to function in their demanding 9-5 with an ADHD brain; I cannot ask if they’ve tried using a planner.

When a client shares that they experienced racism during their most recent trip to the ER, I cannot rush to defend the system and ask them to consider that maybe the doctor or nurses were just having an “off day.”

I can say with absolute certainty, that if that is the kind of therapeutic response you are looking for – I am not the therapist for you.

In the therapy space: I bring all the pieces of me along. I am neurodivergent. I am a mother. I am a sister. I am a human. I am flawed. I believe that liberation is life, and tolerance is just oppression with better PR. I believe that the mental health field has done real, significant harm under the guise of “professionalism.” I cannot pretend that I do not hold these beliefs because someone, at some point, decided that the safety of neutrality was more beneficial than the discomfort of accountability.

I cannot ask a client to bring me their vulnerability – especially if they have never had the privilege to experience the safety of neutrality – while I refuse to risk my own. Genuine connection requires mutual risk. I must be willing to sacrifice my own comfort, if I am to meet them in discomfort.

Too often neutrality means silence. A silence, which in the context of greater systemic harm, cannot create safety. It enforces compliance.

To be clear, this does not mean that therapeutic encounters are vessels for the furtherance of my worldview. I’m not here to convert anyone. What it does mean is that I am more likely to say the quiet, uncomfortable part out loud. Name what others might avoid. It means that I operate from the understanding that the personal is political. Especially here. Especially now. Your distress does not exist within a vacuum and when the world outside is a five-alarm dumpster fire, I refuse to gaslight you into believing that your anxiety is the problem.

Too often clients present to therapy feeling like they are “the problem.” That they are too sensitive, too emotional, too reactive. Just “too much” for other people. Then they find themselves a dried out, burnt out husk of themselves from trying to do the mental equivalent of a Cirque du Soleil contortionist doing 12 shows a week. Trying to make themselves more palatable and less disruptive. When they finally hit a wall and their brains and/or bodies begin to fail them, they find themselves seeking therapy. Often clutching the idea that they are “crazy.”

To that, I say: Discomfort is not absolute proof that something is wrong with you. It is oftentimes proof that something around you is deeply wrong.

You find yourself seething with rage and your stomach drops every time you get a “Breaking News” alert? That’s not an “overreaction.” That is your nervous system recognizing harm and preparing to defend against a threat.

You’ve got the Sunday Scaries and feel anxious and sick to your stomach every day about a job that demands 150% for a less than livable wage? That is not dysfunction, that is clarity.

You feel numb, shut down and hopeless in a society that rewards burnout, “turning the other cheek” and punishes vulnerability? You are not a failure. Your soul and your humanity are screaming for your attention.

Your therapy experience should not include building resilience to systems that are actively hurting you. Liberation comes from honoring the messages that bubble up to the surface from beneath our pain. Recognizing that the pain you carry has roots – cultural, systemic and relational. Gaining awareness that you were never meant to thrive in systems that were built with the intention to exploit and erase you. Your therapy experience should help guide you in determining what your own liberation looks like. Not perpetuate the idea that we can cope our way through oppression.

This is why I cannot be neutral. And I don’t believe any other therapist should be either. Because if we pretend that your discomfort is the result of your own personal flaws – some brokenness that exists solely within yourself – then we collude with the systems that caused your discomfort in the first place.

You deserve better than that.