Therapy Blues
Blue Therapy, Representation, and the Question of Cultural Competence in UK Therapy
I'm experiencing the “Therapy Blues” over the new Netflix reality TV show Blue Therapy.
As a mixed-heritage Caribbean Psychosexual and Relationship Therapist working in the UK, I see daily how culture, faith, identity and relational expectations shape intimacy, and connection in ways that mainstream therapy conversations sometimes overlook.
Netflix’s Blue Therapy should spark some important dialogue about therapy, culture, and representation in the UK.
Watching a series centred around Black and mixed-race couples navigating relationships, vulnerability, and therapy on screen is significant. For many communities, therapy is still surrounded by stigma, silence, or misunderstanding.
So hear me clearly when I say:
Visibility matters.
But something else stands out to me.
The couples represented are Black and mixed-race, yet the therapists guiding the process are both white.
This isn’t about questioning their qualifications, professionalism, or their ability to support clients.
It’s about the broader pattern it reflects and the messages it might inadvertently perpetuate.
Therapy in the UK has long been perceived and presented as a predominantly white profession, even though many of the communities experiencing significant relational, mental health, and systemic pressures are culturally diverse.
When shows like this centre Black relationships yet still default to white therapists as the experts, it subtly reinforces the idea that:
expertise looks a certain way
authority in therapy looks a certain way
cultural perspectives are secondary rather than central
But culture is not a side note in relationships.
It shapes communication, intimacy, gender roles, conflict, family expectations, spirituality, and healing.
(Hence my forthcoming paper: Beyond Cultural Competency: Towards a Culturally Adaptive Model for Psychosexual and Relationship Therapy, to be presented at the IAPST Symposium in Budapest this May.)
Cultural competence isn’t a “nice extra”.
It’s a clinical necessity.
But this also raises an important question: what does culturally competent therapy actually look like in practice?
Is it primarily about the therapist’s background?
Their professional training?
Their willingness to remain curious and humble about the worlds their clients inhabit?
Or is it something deeper, something embedded in how therapy itself is structured, understood, and practised?
These are not simple questions, and they sit at the heart of how therapy builds trust across cultural differences.
Culture operates at many levels: language, family systems, faith traditions, gender expectations, migration histories, and the unspoken rules that shape intimacy and relationships. Good therapy must recognise and work within those layers rather than treating them merely as peripheral details.
For many (though not all) clients of colour, working with a therapist who understands, or at least deeply engages with, the cultural contexts of their lives can powerfully influence how safe, understood, and open they feel in the therapeutic space.
And I say contexts, plural, because all of our stories matter.
This is not about exclusion.
It’s about expanding representation in a field that still struggles with it.
At the same time, I also recognise something else.
Doing therapy in front of cameras, knowing that your clinical work could be analysed, critiqued, and dissected by millions of viewers, is no small undertaking.
If I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure I would accept such an invitation myself. The vulnerability and professional scrutiny involved would be immense, and as a woman of colour I would carry additional awareness and tension about how my work and indeed my presence, might be portrayed or edited within such a culturally charged space.
So this reflection isn’t about criticising the therapists involved.
It’s about using the moment to highlight a larger conversation about representation, cultural understanding, and the future of therapy in the UK.
While I recognise that this is entertainment, it cannot be overstated how much representation matters in healing spaces too, arguably even more so.
If therapy is truly about understanding people in context, then culture must be part of the conversation.
Maybe shows like this should open the door to that conversation.
Because therapy should not only be accessible, it should also be culturally seen, culturally understood, and culturally represented.
Perhaps the real question raised by Blue Therapy is not simply what we see on screen, but what it reveals about who we imagine therapy — and healing itself — is for.
If this resonated with you, and you want to learn more through therapy for yourself or your relationship, reach out to me on info@ltas.uk.
And until next time, let’s talk about it, because the conversation we’re not having about these issues may be the most important ones yet.