As a client in therapy for almost two decades, I’ve sat across from many therapists. Each one, I am grateful for. I am thankful for their training, their wisdom, and the way they held space for me when I needed it most. Still, I remember what it felt like when I first sought therapy years ago. I didn’t see many therapists who looked like me. For the longest time, I thought that was normal and simply accepted it. But deep down, there was always a quiet question: would someone from my own cultural background understand me more fully without so much explanation?

I often wondered if I was using extra energy to translate parts of my story that might have felt instinctively understood by someone who shared my cultural lens. The unspoken weight of family expectations, the sacrifices made in immigrant households, and the way collective responsibility shapes your identity & these were not always easy to explain. Sometimes, I left sessions feeling supported, but also unseen. It was a strange tension, to feel cared for while sensing that part of me was still missing in the room.

Over time, I came to realize that representation in therapy is not just about optics or surface-level identity. It is about the deeper experience of feeling truly seen in your whole humanity, without needing to filter or over-explain the layers of your lived experience.

I am Filipina. Growing up, I rarely saw people from my background reflected in positions of authority or in therapy roles. Walking into therapy spaces without that representation made me wonder if my cultural experiences could be understood, or if I would have to spend session after session explaining family dynamics and values before we could even reach the heart of my struggles.

Representation is not about needing a therapist to be exactly like you. It is about the relief of being understood without having to translate every part of yourself. It is the reassurance that your identity, culture, and history are valid in the therapeutic space. When clients see therapists who share similar cultural backgrounds, it often builds trust more quickly. It can also open doors to conversations about cultural shame, family expectations, or migration stories that might otherwise stay silent.

It wasn’t until last year that I finally found the therapist who felt like the right fit for me. The sense of relief was overwhelming, almost a proud moment that moved me to tears. For the first time, I sat across from someone who carried an unspoken understanding of family dynamics, cultural expectations, and the nuances of living within a collectivist culture. While Western therapy has many beautiful strengths, it can sometimes miss the mark for those of us who come from cultures where family and community are at the center of who we are.

Finding that alignment in therapy changed everything for me. And if you are searching for the right therapist, here are five reflections that may help guide your journey:

Reflect on your own values. Ask yourself whether it matters that a therapist shares your cultural background, or whether you would feel more comfortable with someone who demonstrates cultural humility and genuine curiosity.
Explore your therapists’ cultural competency. It is okay to ask how a therapist integrates culture and family systems into their work. You are allowed to be curious too.These conversations build perspective and understanding.
Pay attention to intuitive feelings. Pay attention to whether you feel seen, heard, and understood during the first few sessions. Your comfort is as important as their expertise. Sometimes it takes more than one meeting to know if a therapist is the right fit, and that is completely okay.
Share your expectations & goals. Be open about the role that family, spirituality, or community plays in your life. A good therapist will welcome these conversations and honor what matters most to you.
Trust the journey. Finding the right therapist can take time, but when it finally happens, the connection and relief can be profoundly healing. The journey to get there often feels deeply worth it, almost magical.

Now, as a therapist myself, I carry this truth with me every day. I know what it feels like to sit on the other side of the couch, wondering if you will ever be fully understood. I know the deep relief that comes when you finally feel seen. My hope is to bring that same sense of belonging into the therapy room for Filipinos, for immigrants, and for anyone who has ever questioned whether they truly belong in spaces of healing. You do belong. You always have. Because mental health is not only about coping with symptoms. It is about coming home to yourself. It is about reclaiming your right to be fully seen, fully valued, and fully human.

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