Arnetha V. Bishop Memorial Scholarship

"Therapy is for rich white people." These are the words that were embossed in the core of my memory up until eight years ago, and I'm well into my 40s. More disheartening than that idea was the idea of how difficult it would be to find a therapist who looked like me. That idea, however, was anchored in the coldest, most disappointing truth. I wanted a Black male therapist who knew how to approach LGBTQ+ issues. After nine months of searching, I found a brown therapist. That's when I looked up the statistic: Only 5.1% of all therapists and counselors are Black. Of that 5.1%, only 1% is male. And only 2% of all psychiatrists are Black. I grew up in the South and was the target of much racial discrimination, so much so that I thought it was a way of life and that my need for spaces to be safe enough to work out my life's issues were far and few between. The thing about a need is just because it goes unmet doesn't mean that it disappears. Unhealthy habits surface and emotional regulation becomes a far cry. I know this because of both research and experience. I remember my first therapy session. I proudly committed, "I don't really trust this guy. So I'm not gonna show much outside of certainty. I'll play cool." Five minutes in, I was a sobbing mess. But I left that session affirmed, a little more connected, and with more uncomfortable questions than I knew what to do with. I quickly found out what people meant by "doing the work." The impact on my life after a few months was monumental. And while I realized the importance of mental health, being in therapy was not why I decided to work in mental health. It was Ava DuVernay's "When They See Us." I could only get through the first half of the first episode before hot tears heavy with anger clawed their way down my cheeks. It made me think about the plight of Black men and black individuals, and on my own accord, I started a podcast addressing those things. Then I came across and article about intergenerational trauma and the epigenetics associated with maladaptive behavior and how my great, great-great-grandmother's trauma still affects me. That's when it hit me that therapy isn't for rich white people. It was more easily accessible by rich white people. Who, then, is servicing my community? I gathered my anger, flipped it into active passion, and enrolled in an MS program for Clinical Mental Health Counseling to not only add to the solution but also create nuanced resources that administer specifically to the Black community. I have a strong background in the arts and entertainment so naturally, my ideas to make a positive impact all float around that area. As an example, barbershops and beauty shops. Black men and women find these spaces where they can talk about their issues, clown on one another, support one another, and sometimes get deep. How cool would it be to have a reality show where a licensed therapist traveled all around the country to different barbershops and beauty salons and talked mental health while uptown fades and sister locs are being done? The need is great for language and tools and while I cannot be *the* solution, I can most certainly be a part of the solution and hopefully inspire others to do the same.

The text was small and green, squeezed near the bottom of the page. He had written in Chinese, 我今天想要活着是因为我的植物长得很好 (“I wanted to live today because my plant is thriving”), and the words brought tears to my eyes. This client had been seeing me for the past several months, and his most recent depressive episode had hit so hard that our last few sessions were spent exploring the meaning of existence. He had been consistent with his DBT diary cards, and I felt we were moving in the right direction. Then, one day, he sent me a fresh page of his diary with a reason to live noted for the first time. He highlighted it in the same bright green that colored the pitcher plant that gave him the will to press on another day. Clients like him inspired me to continue my daily work as a therapist from 2020 to 2023, and now as a doctoral researcher and psychologist trainee working with high-risk adolescents at the University of Hawaii. After graduating from Columbia University in 2020 with my Master's degree, I moved to Seattle, where I provided licensed weekly individual and group therapy sessions to immigrant adolescents in both community and school settings. As a first-generation college student and a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, I deeply empathize—both professionally and personally—with Asian and immigrant youth struggling with mental health issues. Being married to a same-sex partner within a conservative East Asian culture, I've faced significant acculturative distress, not only as an immigrant but also in navigating the unique challenges of my identity. However, these personal struggles have become a true asset, strengthening my ability as a helping professional. During my three years of working with vulnerable adolescent populations in both school and community settings from 2020 to 2023, I observed firsthand both the successes and challenges of psychological treatment in a multicultural context. Building on my four years of undergraduate study in psychology at Michigan State University from 2013 to 2017, my continued graduate education and fieldwork have deepened my understanding of individual complexity. This experience has convinced me that only rigorous, evidence-based research can develop and empower treatments that truly improve individuals' lives and inform systems—such as policy-making and bridging research-to-real-world gaps—to reduce psychological suffering not just in individual sessions, but on a broader scale. For this reason, I entered the University of Hawaii’s doctoral program in Clinical Psychology in 2023. Under Dr. Brad Nakamura's supervision, I completed a first-authored publication, and two technical reports, and presented at 15 regional and national conferences during my first year of doctoral research. Spring of 2024, I also provided suicide intervention and screening for youth at local schools in Maui following the wildfire that took hundreds of lives. My research work addresses a critical gap in youth mental health: despite the effectiveness of Evidence-Based Practices (EBP) like CBT for depression, these treatments are not widely used in clinical settings. This highlights the need for a better understanding of parents' and consumers' perspectives—an area that remains empirically understudied and obscure in many respects. My background as a first-generation LGBTQIA+ immigrant from East Asia, coupled with the stark reality that only 4% of psychologists in the U.S. are Asian American, has profoundly shaped my commitment to this field. With 44% of Asian Americans experiencing severe mental distress, my work is driven by the urgent need for culturally competent, evidence-based interventions. Though my individual power may be limited, I believe that through research, advocacy, and empowering the underrepresented, I can amplify the voices of many, bringing meaningful change to the underrepresented communities I serve.