Caring deeply—truly opening ourselves to care about someone or something—can be an act of tremendous vulnerability. Vulnerability invites risk, and where there is risk, there is complexity: the weight of new knowledge, the responsibility to transform awareness into action, the pain of empathy for another’s suffering, or the grief of loss. And yet, for those without the benefits of privilege, the risks of simply existing can be far greater than the discomfort of facing our own privilege. As therapists, and as humans, we carry the responsibility to act bravely—to use our awareness and privilege to cultivate safety and care for others.

A well-rounded therapist’s role is not just about knowledge; it is about translating that knowledge into a space of genuine care and transformative connection. This process requires humility, a willingness to look inward, and the courage to turn awareness into meaningful action. Yes, there is risk—the risk of facing discomfort, of making mistakes, or of being accountable—but this risk pales in comparison to the healing that becomes possible when we are brave enough to care.

Confronting My Own Privilege

Graduate school, as it likely was for many of us in the therapy field, was equal parts transformative and overwhelming. It stretched my capacity to hold new information, honed my ability to sit with others’ stories, and offered plenty of imposter syndrome along the way. But perhaps most importantly, it invited me to learn about myself—to uncover blind spots and begin understanding how my own identity impacts my interactions with the world.

As a white man from a privileged upbringing, graduate school brought me face to face with uncomfortable truths: I had a leg up in society. I could choose to resist this truth, deny my privilege, and continue walking through life largely unaware of the systemic barriers others face. Or, I could lean into discomfort and risk exploring the ways my identity affords me ease and access where others encounter obstacles.

For me, the shift came when I started asking: If I benefit from certain aspects of my identity and upbringing, can it not also be true that others are unfairly disadvantaged because of theirs? These realizations were humbling, but they also fueled a new kind of courage—the courage to care with more intention and responsibility.

Learning to Ask Hard Questions

Early in my clinical practicum, I worked with a client whose identity differed significantly from mine. Because they hadn’t explicitly named identity-related concerns, I assumed their identity was not impacting their current experience—a dangerous assumption rooted in my own blind spot.

During supervision, Dr. Toni Zimmerman encouraged me to ask my client directly about how this part of their identity might be shaping their life. I remember feeling uncertain: What if it didn’t feel relevant to them? What if I said the wrong thing? But I trusted the process and asked the question. To my surprise, the door opened to deep and meaningful conversations about the pain and challenges this client had faced as a result of their identity.

That moment taught me a powerful lesson about gentle leadership in therapy. Asking the hard questions—even when we feel uncertain—can be an invitation to closeness, connection, and emotional safety. As therapists, it is not enough to assume; we must create space for the unspoken, especially when identity and privilege are at play.

An Invitation to Reflect

I share this with the hope of encouraging introspection—for myself, for my fellow therapists, and for anyone seeking to care more courageously. I invite you to explore the following questions with humility and grace, leaving space for courage to replace shame:

1. In what areas of my life do aspects of my identity allow me to experience life more easily?
2. When I learn about my privilege, what do I notice happening in my body? What can I learn from these sensations?
3. What fears arise when I allow myself to acknowledge my privilege?
4. What holds me back from courageously confronting my privilege to create safety for others?
5. How might my life experience be different if parts of my identity were different?
6. What areas of privilege might I be unaware of? How can I begin to uncover these blind spots?

Why This Matters in Therapy

As therapists, we are trusted to hold the emotional worlds of others with care. Our clients bring their vulnerabilities into the room, and it is our responsibility to create a space that feels safe enough to explore these truths. Part of this work means acknowledging the ways our own identities and privileges show up in the room. It means asking the hard questions—both of ourselves and our clients—so we can foster connection, trust, and healing.

Caring deeply is not always comfortable. But the courage to care—to face discomfort, confront privilege, and take responsibility—is what allows us to show up as therapists and humans in a way that truly transforms lives.

Let us care bravely, together.