±«ÓãÊÓƵ

Making the transition from trainee to qualified practitioner is a vulnerable, often uncertain crossing. For many of us, especially those from minoritised backgrounds, it involves balancing professional training with our lived experience, culture, and identity. While Western therapeutic models were central to my training, I found, like many colleagues from similar backgrounds, that they did not always reflect the full richness and nuance of our cultural heritage and identity. Early on in this journey, it is common to wonder how much of ourselves we can authentically bring into the therapy room.

The space after submission

Submitting my thesis, finishing assignments, and signing off placement hours brought an end to almost two years of constant juggling between study, practice, and family life. When that intense routine came to a close, the space to reflect widened instantly. While every newly qualified therapist faces practical next steps, my questions felt deeply tied to culture and authenticity: how do I describe my approach without hiding where I come from? Can I truly bring my whole cultural identity into this work, or will I have to code-switch to fit in? What kind of therapist do I want to be when I am no longer trying to fit a training mould? Beyond my own path lay broader responsibilities – to the profession, and, I felt, to those both within and beyond my community who are unable to access therapy.

Lessons from illumination

Before training as a therapist, I studied traditional Islamic arts and specialised in the decorative patterns that adorn the pages of sacred manuscripts, from the Quran to illustrated poems and epic wisdom tales. In that tradition, progress is guided by a master teacher, who demonstrates and shapes your development as an artist, and when a student is deemed ready, they may receive an ijaza – permission to practise independently. The ijaza signifies that a teacher entrusts a student to carry a lineage forward. While grounded in what has been passed down, it also marks the precise point at which a student begins to bring their own authentic voice to the work.

A wise guide

The poet Hafez writes of the importance of a wise guide when travelling unfamiliar terrain. Looking back, that guidance came through a circle of support from my supervisors, tutors, personal therapists, and my mentor, each of whom offered a steady anchor in a landscape that can feel dauntingly wide.

A distinct kind of recognition

Within that circle, the ±«ÓãÊÓƵmentoring scheme provided something distinct. Being matched with a mentor from a similar background meant I didn't have to explain the nuances of navigating identity and culture in practice. There was an immediate foundation of recognition, offering a dedicated space to explore how my values and creative instincts sit alongside my integrative training.

Carrying the work forward

My traditional arts training taught me not to rush a process, and I bring that same care into the therapy room, working thoughtfully with clients at their own pace. As I step into this next chapter as a qualified therapist working in private practice, organisational roles, and community work, mentoring has affirmed that there is space in this profession for therapists from minoritised backgrounds to bring their whole selves to the work: their creativity, cultural knowledge, and authentic voice.