Disclaimer: This article is researched with information from credible medical professionals, publications, or institutions. It is for educational purposes only and should not be used to self-diagnose or treat bipolar disorder. If you believe you may be struggling with this condition, please consult a qualified medical professional.
Therapy while Black can be a daunting process. Many of us face barriers like inadequate insurance coverage, costly medications, frequent misdiagnosis, racism, and culturally incompetent mental health professionals. During times of financial instability in my journalism career, I often had to pay out-of-pocket for therapy—$60 per session. That might not sound terrible, but when insurance used to cover it with just a $20 copay, that $40 difference stung. Every dollar counted.
While the BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) community has made notable strides in normalizing mental health—thanks to organizations like Black Mental Wellness, Therapy for Black Girls, Therapy for Black Men, the Boris Lawrence Henson Foundation, and Silence the Shame—there is still a glaring shortage of culturally competent mental health professionals.
According to the American Psychological Association, Black students made up just 11% of master’s program enrollments and 10% of doctoral program enrollments in psychology from 2021 to 2022 (Assefa et al., 2023). Despite there being around 41,000 reported psychiatrists in the U.S., only 2% identify as Black (Bailey, n.d.). Similarly, only 4% of psychologists identify as Black. As Lisa O’Malley wrote in Insight into Diversity, a 2020 survey by the Association for University and College Counseling Center Directors found that 61% of counseling staff were white, while only 13% were Black (O’Malley, 2021). These disparities are amplified by long-standing mistrust in the healthcare system.
A 2023 CDC report revealed that Black adults visited emergency departments for mental health issues at twice the national average between 2018 and 2020 (Johnson, 2023). MindSite News also reported that many Black women working in the mental health field cite racism, stigma, and financial inequality as barriers—obstacles that not only reduce the diversity of providers but also limit access to quality, culturally attuned care (Hughes & Oyeniyi, 2024).
When it comes to Black men, the disparities are even more alarming. The National Library of Medicine study Treatment Disparities among African American Men with Depression highlights cultural mistrust, misdiagnosis, and clinical bias as major reasons why Black men hesitate to seek therapy (Hankerson et al., 2015). More recent findings confirm that young Black men are less likely to seek and receive mental health care compared to young white men or young Black women (Bauer & Berkley-Patton, 2023).
This all points to a critical truth: Black people living with bipolar disorder need culturally competent care. Personally, all of my therapists have been Black women who not only educated me about my diagnosis but also offered empathy, constructive feedback, and religious understanding. I did, however, have one therapist who didn’t identify as a Black woman—and I stayed with them because they were an excellent listener, showed compassion, and were affordable at the time.
Think of finding a therapist like hiring someone for a job: what qualifications do they need to meet the specific demands of your mental health journey? If you’re Black and living with bipolar disorder, your needs are unique. It’s okay to ask questions about a therapist’s background, credentials, and experience working with Black clients or bipolar disorder. Maybe you want someone who shares your gender, religious background, or even political views. Maybe you’re part of the LGBTQ+ community and want someone with that awareness. That’s all valid.
One of my therapists was assigned to me through an agency. While we differed in identity and beliefs, we shared mutual respect. They didn’t try to change my views and vice-versa. Instead, they listened—really listened—and gave me practical tools I still use today. If you’re not comfortable stepping outside familiar identities, that’s okay too. You deserve someone who gets you.
The most important thing is to find a therapist who understands how to work with Black people navigating bipolar disorder—someone who won’t get defensive when asked questions and who can help create a stability plan that works for your life. Do some research. Call their office. Ask if they’re open to a brief introductory call. Prepare three to five questions specifically about their experience with Black bipolar clients.
Also, remember: therapy isn’t just about being heard—it’s about hearing, too. Be open to feedback. Bring a list of triggers or things your therapist should know, especially if you’re experiencing mania or depression. If you’re newly diagnosed, it’s normal to feel nervous before your first session. Here are some questions you can ask:
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How will bipolar disorder affect my life?
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What changes should I make to improve stability?
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What are my legal rights as a bipolar person in [insert state]?
