LGBTQ Counselling: Unlocking Safe, Affirming Spaces

LGBTQ+ Counselling: Finding truly affirming care

I was recently invited by the International Coaching Federation (ICF) to speak at their LGBTQIA+ round table. As a non-binary counsellor, I am very aware of the complexities of finding truly affirming mental health care. In a Canadian context, I am more used to using the terms 2SLGBTQ+ community, so please be mindful that the acronyms used may vary depending on the culture you’re part of.

How did I come to speak at this event? First of all, I am trained as a coach and counsellor. Second, I am also non-binary and demisexual. My intersectionality shapes my relationship with the coaching and counselling world. Unfortunately, I can’t say that I experience these worlds as being “inclusive.” I’ve given up counting how often I’ve tried to build bridges with cis people and how often the bridge was never built. I can do my part, but a bridge needs to be built from both sides.

The reality of seeking affirming care

If you’re part of the 2SLGBTQ+ community, you likely know this struggle intimately. You’ve probably sat in waiting rooms, wondering if you’ll have to educate yet another therapist about your identity. Discrimination and microaggressions by healthcare professionals happen. You’ve maybe rehearsed how to explain your pronouns or braced yourself for that moment when the conversation suddenly shifts after you share who you are. Since I mainly work with trauma, I know that a counsellor who is unaware of their privilege is likely to misuse their power instead of learning from you.

A couple of months ago, I had a conversation with a cis colleague. He wondered why I had such firm boundaries around letting him into my life. He asked me whether I would go to a bar and casually hang out with others. My non-binary identity wanted to ask him whether he has any idea how people might respond if I say my pronouns or state that I am non-binary.

The truth is, I do go into bars, and yes, there are inclusive experiences. But not everyone responds well. Sometimes it’s where the conversation suddenly ends—the polite version of rejection. Other times, the response is far more hostile. I’ve encountered people whose reactions ranged from uncomfortable silence to outright aggression, including those who’ve expressed they want people like me to be dead. These aren’t abstract fears or theoretical scenarios—they’re real experiences that shape how I move through the world.

This is why I’ve learned to set firm boundaries to protect my emotional and psychological well-being—and to protect myself from oppression as much as possible. I know that I have privilege because I pass as a woman on the street. However, not every trans or queer person does. Many of us face discrimination. And it’s exactly why finding truly affirming mental health care matters so much.

The cost of systemic exclusion

As a non-binary business owner, my identity is a business risk. I am more easily excluded from opportunities and visibility. Like many counsellors, I have a paid profile on Psychology Today. I pay the exact same rate as my cisgender colleagues. But their “quick filter”—the very first thing a potential client sees—only offers two options: male or female.

If someone clicks that filter without thinking (and most people do), my profile will be excluded. I am literally unsearchable unless a potential client chooses to explore more diverse filters. I informed Psychology Today about it – until today, I am targeted with silence. Let’s be clear, I work with cis and straight clients a lot. So, this exclusion doesn’t make any sense. They prevent them from being able to even find me.

This isn’t just about one website—it’s about how systemic exclusion is everywhere, making it harder for our community to find the care we need and deserve.

The professional field isn’t ready either

The exclusion doesn’t stop at client-facing platforms. Over the years, I’ve left several supervision groups I was part of because they were disrespectful to me and unwilling to take responsibility for their impact on gender-diverse colleagues. I have considered filing ethics complaints; however, the code of ethics usually doesn’t include anti-oppressive practices.

I spent four years advocating for more awareness around queer issues in professional codes of ethics. Four years of presenting research, sharing lived experiences, highlighting other associations that are doing the work, and offering concrete suggestions for change. I finally stopped—not because the work wasn’t important, but because I was being gaslit by the very organizations that write our ethical guidelines.

This is the reality many of us face: even the professionals who are supposed to help us often lack the awareness or willingness to create truly inclusive spaces. Some use the right labels like “anti-oppressive practices,” but they don’t know how to actually practice them. It’s often a painful (and expensive) journey to find healthy support. It’s exhausting to constantly advocate for our own dignity in spaces that claim to value inclusion.

Why our community needs specialized care

Oppression affects the well-being of the 2SLGBTQ+ community in profound ways. The suicide rates for queer people are generally higher than for the dominant group. If I look at the community of non-binary and transgender people, they are even higher.

About 25% to 55% of non-binary and transgender people attempt suicide (white people are generally the lower number, Black, Indigenous, and People of Colour the higher ones since they face double discrimination due to transphobia and racism). It’s not because we are all crazy or weird, but because a profound level of oppression targets us. Oppression doesn’t exist in a vacuum. When there is oppression, there is one group in the role of the social oppressor.

These statistics aren’t shared to frighten you, but to validate something important: our struggles are real, they’re systemic, and they require specialized understanding and care.

Most questions I can ask queer clients, whether they are trans women, trans men, gender diverse folks, or gay, I can ask because I understand the complexity of the lived experience, even though I also acknowledge that I am constantly learning. Obstacles like navigating the changing room for women in a swimming pool, or being the only person who shares their pronouns often are unknown to the dominant group. A person who loses their same-sex partner is likely to experience disenfranchised grief because of oppression. In many cases, our autonomic nervous system responds when we are in unaware spaces. However, an unaware counsellor from the dominant group is less likely to recognize this and be able to support it.

Much of my expertise on how to empower myself in a world that sometimes feels hostile isn’t something I learned in counselling training models. It’s a lived experience on how to be empowered in a world that sometimes hates me, and my prior knowledge from healing trauma.

When I was questioning my gender, my cis counsellor wasn’t even aware that non-binary existed. She insisted that I was a woman.

What truly affirming 2SLGBTQ+ counselling looks like

The first step is acknowledging that oppression is real and that we experience the world differently depending on our intersectionality. This also means that psychological safety depends on privilege.

The more privilege an individual has, the safer they are. If an individual doesn’t belong to the dominant group, they have less safety. The so-called “safe space” doesn’t exist. We can only create safer spaces where we actively intend to dismantle oppression and social power dynamics.

In truly affirming 2SLGBTQ+ counselling, you can expect:

• Using the correct pronouns and name or putting effort into learning them if you change them throughout counselling. Capacity to take responsibility and apologize if they use the wrong ones without burdening you.
• Healthy use of cis privilege and straight privilege (if relevant). Acknowledging that they have it and managing the power imbalance due to it—and this includes white and settler privilege if you are a queer person who is Black, Indigenous, or a person of colour. The counsellor needs to be aware that you may face oppression for being queer in your community but also racism from society as a whole.
• Willingness to take responsibility. If you speak up, the counsellor is willing to take responsibility and is actually adjusting their behaviour. Any comment like “I listen to you” isn’t enough. They need to explore their responsibility and take action.
• A counsellor who has awareness about the complexity of intersectionalities in the queer community.
• Acknowledgment when they don’t know. If the counsellor is unaware, they acknowledge they don’t know and make an effort to educate themselves outside your sessions. If you are in a counselling relationship where you continuously need to educate the counsellor, it is a warning sign.
• Understanding of the complex dynamics of oppression that 2SLGBTQ+ folks are targeted by, understanding of lived experience with a focus to empower you and not burden or victim-blame you. You, as a queer person, are not responsible for your experience of oppression.
• Acknowledgment that your mental health struggles may be directly related to systemic discrimination while exploring options to empower you.
• A counsellor who invites you to explore the complexity of speaking up against injustice while balancing self-preservation.
• Space to validate and process the impact of minority stress without explaining it.
• A therapist who has done their own work around privilege and bias. They don’t find excuses for folks who aren’t doing their work. They don’t minimize the toxic behaviours of the dominant group.
• Understanding that “good intentions” from others in your life aren’t enough if the impact is harmful.

Questions to ask a queer affirming counsellor

Some potential questions to help you assess whether a counsellor is truly affirming:

For assessing their knowledge about the LGBTQ community

• How have you educated yourself about 2SLGBTQ+ issues? Hint: expect something like learning from lived experience, maybe inclusion trainings but also self-reflection and actively creating relationships with 2SLGBTQ+ folks
• How do you practice queer inclusion in your sessions?
• What do you know about gender? What is your perspective on gender? Hint: if they only mention men and women, it’s likely not a good match
• How do you handle it when you make mistakes with pronouns or names? Hint: Watch for defensiveness

For understanding their perspective on oppression

• How do you understand the role of systemic oppression in mental health?
• What do you know about the experience of oppression against 2SLGBTQ+ folks in Canada (or where you live)? Hint: if they say there is none or everything is great, that’s a warning sign for their capacity to build a healthy relationship with you.
• Can you give me an example of how minority stress might show up in therapy?

For testing intersectional awareness

• How do you approach working with queer clients who also face racism?
• What’s your understanding of how different identities within the queer community might have different needs?

For gauging accountability

• What do you do when a client calls out something problematic you’ve said or done?
• How do you continue your education about 2SLGBTQ+ issues outside of sessions?

Keep in mind that it might take some time to find a counsellor who can provide healthy LGBTQ+ counselling and give you the care you need. It’s okay to change counsellors if you don’t feel respected. Your comfort and safety in therapy aren’t negotiable; they’re the foundation of effective care.

My commitment to LGBTQ+ counselling

I chose to speak at that ICF round table with the hope of connecting with those who truly want to make a difference. Through years of advocacy work, bridge-building attempts, and navigating professional spaces that weren’t built with us in mind, I’ve learned something important about where to direct my energy.

I no longer spend my energy trying to convince those who aren’t ready to listen. Not because change isn’t needed—it absolutely is. But because I’ve learned that transformation happens through genuine partnership, not through one-sided labour. Change is only possible when cis and straight folks collaborate with us and are willing to take responsibility for what’s theirs.

What I focus on now is this: creating a practice that empowers me and protects my energy, growing sustainably and responsibly no matter what the systems around me do. My practice of resistance is useful for my 2SLGBTQ+ clients, helping them find their path to an empowered life. Oppression doesn’t define us; however, we need to find ways to heal how we have internalized it.

At Bright Horizon Therapies, I offer trauma counselling and coaching that honours diversity, welcomes complexity, and sees the whole person. Whether you’re questioning, coming out, transitioning, or simply need a space where you don’t have to explain yourself, you deserve care that is safe, inclusive, and affirming.

My lived experience of social exclusion shapes this work. I believe in giving others the care and respect I wish to receive. When you walk into my practice, you won’t need to build bridges or explain your identity to me. You can simply focus on your healing.

Truthfully, this effort comes from understanding what it feels like to be unseen. I know what it’s like to search for affirming care. And I’m committed to being the counsellor and coach I needed when I was searching too.

Find out more about how I practice anti-oppressive practices at Bright Horizon Therapies.

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