I have to say, it was a surprise to me six years ago when I first met my fellow counselling students in my place of education, and I was amongst the three male students in a group of thirty. The groups were then split in half and I became the only male in a group of fifteen. Our tutor was male, but other than that the rest of my group presented as and identified themselves as female.
The surprise was not that there were a large number of women training in this field, but more a surprise at the lack of men. I hadn’t really given it much thought prior to starting my course, but in hindsight, I think I must have unconsciously assumed that there would be more of a balanced split between male and female counsellors. This followed throughout my training, in the three groups I was a part of there were never more than two other men in them.
At first, this was something that comforted me. I have always found it easier to be open with and vulnerable around women than men and, given the nature of the training often encouraging exposure and exploration of the self, this made this process feel more approachable for me. Though, as this went on, it brought a variety of unconscious voices within me to the surface.
Do I fit in here? Can men be as effective at counselling as women? Is this something I can excel at, as a man? Questions from a deep-seated insecure and competitive part of my psyche that felt unless I could be ‘the best’ at something, it’s not worth even trying. A simultaneous confrontation with the part of me that sought to see men and women as equals in all things, and yet here I was in pursuit of a career in something that was by far, more populated by women than men.
It was men who wrote the majority of the literature we were consuming on the subject, men who gave birth to a large amount of the theories and ideas that have been refined into the models we practice today. So where had all the men gone?
Thankfully, the study of psychotherapy happens to be a great place to give an audible voice to these thoughts and feelings and to in turn challenge them. Though given the struggles that women have faced in pursuit of the right to equal education in the past century, it was an internal challenge in itself to sit in a room full of women and talk about the challenges faced there as a man. However, when I did it was met with kindness, empathy and non-judgment, which was actually a very healing experience.
By the time I was ready to practice counselling, I was somewhat familiar with working predominantly with women, and so it was no surprise to me when I began at my place of work (Somerset Counselling Centre) to find that they too, consisted of a large majority female counsellors.
Through my personal therapy and personal development through training, I had addressed some of the internal conflicts I had felt in relation to the insecure and competitive parts of my psyche and reached a healthier relationship with myself and with my career in counselling, though some of these insecurities would arise again when I learned certain realities of the work.
Many clients don’t specify a preferred gender for their counsellor when asked in the assessment stage of their therapy and very few request specifically a male counsellor. A large amount, however, request a female counsellor. So, back come the insecurities, am I going to be able to get clients? Can I be as effective as a female counsellor?
Now, however, I am more prepared for these feelings. Now I realise that that preference has to do with the client’s psyche and not my own competency or potential. The insecurities and desire to be ‘the best’ counsellor, is my ‘stuff’ and the decision to request a female counsellor is the clients ‘stuff.’ Perhaps the client has had a bad experience with an abusive or tyrannical male in their life and does not feel ready to trust a man enough to develop a therapeutic relationship with them. Though I believe, in many cases, that in these situations developing a healthy therapeutic relationship with a male counsellor could be extremely effective in healing the trauma around trusting men.
The option for a client to select a preference of gender also gives way to another issue in that, working in a charity with limited staff sometimes a compromise is made. There are not always female counsellors available for the number of clients that would prefer a female counsellor, so they are offered a male counsellor. Though I know in my core that our assessment team have confidence in me to work well with this client, and that I have confidence in myself, there is a part of me that will see their request for a female counsellor and feel a sense of being a ‘back-up.’ As if the right counsellor for them is not available and that I am ‘the next best option.’
Over time, the feeling of being a male in a mostly female environment has faded, occasionally rising to the surface again when I get asked by a colleague for a male perspective on something or when I attend a training day and am in a room of twenty to thirty people and only two or three other men.
But it no longer feels daunting or a burden.
The truth is, I think, that all people have insecurities and doubts coming into this work, for all sorts of reasons. I have felt the insecurity of being bisexual among a group of heterosexual friends many times or being a man more in touch with his feminine side, amongst a group of highly masculine men. Figuring out where these insecurities come from and working on them, challenging them has given me space and freedom to explore my whole self and focus not only on what I can’t offer as a therapist but what I can offer that is unique to me and my strengths, including those of being a man in the predominantly feminine world of psychotherapy.
By George Baker
