Bringing Psychedelic Therapies To Marginalized People

My name is Courtney Watson. I am a mother. I am a queer Black woman. I’m also a licensed marriage and family therapist, a certified sex therapist and the owner of Doorways Therapeutic Services, which is a clinic where we provide ketamine-assisted therapy for people of color, queer folks and TGNC folks, by providers who hold those identities as well.

I started my life in psychedelics in 2020, actually. I went to a conference where they were talking about cultural perspectives and psychedelics. When I first walked into the room, I didn’t really understand why I was there.

My mom had a zero tolerance for drugs. I think the first time I smoked weed, I was 26.

My understanding of psychedelics was that it was white people’s drugs. That’s what I went into that room feeling.

There was a quiet voice, when I started to question whether or not I was going to leave, that told me, “Wait. Just wait and see.”

By the end of the conference, it was really clear to me why I was there, and that this was not just white people’s drugs. This medicine is for all of us.

Medicines, whether it’s iboga or ayahuasca, which come from communities of color, or some of the lab-created medicines like LSD, we all should have access to these medicines.

So I decided I was going to get trained. At the end of my trainings, I felt at a loss. The content didn’t really meet the need that I felt communities of color need, that queer communities need. There was so much that was lacking, not just in terms of history, but also when you look at the research studies. We’re barely there.

I knew that there had to be something more. My idea was, well, then there just need to be more of us doing this work.

So I decided to continue on with my training, specifically with ketamine. I already owned the group practice, so I asked my team if they wanted to get trained too. There were about seven of us, and we all went through a ketamine-assisted therapy training program.

I decided that in order to bring this medicine to our communities, we were going to be the ones who provided it. We were going to do it in a way that resonated for us because we held the identities.

We were queer folks. We were people of color. We were TGNC folks. That was important in order for our needs to be met, and for the needs of our communities to be met.

Then I decided, well, I guess we have to contract with a couple of doctors to be able to do this. And if we’re in session, we’re going to need to have a nurse there because we’re not medical professionals, just in case something happens.

I was having lunch with a colleague, and that colleague said to me, “So tell me how you started your ketamine clinic.”

I was like, “I don’t have a ketamine clinic. I have a couple of therapists, a couple of doctors, a couple of nurses.”

Then it hit me, like, oh my God, I do have a ketamine clinic.

Actually, this was something someone told me we needed to do. We needed to have spaces where we were offering medicines to us.

I know sometimes that language, like “we” and “us,” can feel like an us and them or me versus you. But the reality is that in order to actually understand what people of color need, what queer people need, what TGNC folks need, there is a necessity to have some sort of lived experience.

Reading textbooks or doing a six-month workshop on cultural competency, that’s not enough.

The only people who actually have that lived experience are people who live as queer folks, live as gender-diverse individuals and live as people of color 365 days a year.

So the clinic came together, and a lot of people asked me, “How did you assemble your team? How did you put together this group of folks?”

The reality is, I didn’t put together anything. I came with an open heart and passion and desire to see us be healed with these medicines.

When I went into spaces with a few of us peppered in, a few people of color, a few queer folks peppered in, the desire to show up and show out and be part of something where we were actually going to be able to take the lead and be heard, and be able to direct what this healing looked like, the deep resonance of us healing us is what actually assembled the team.

I just held the space.

When we think about moving forward, what communities of color need, what queer communities need, what people who have gender identities outside of the gender binary need, what they need is us.

And if you don’t hold those identities, there are ways that you can help that happen.

If you know someone who holds these identities, and maybe they’re a therapist, you can support them. There’s this myth that there aren’t enough qualified therapists to do this work, and there aren’t enough qualified physicians to do this work, and there aren’t enough qualified nurses to do this work.

That’s a myth.

We exist in all walks of life, all areas of life. If anything can show you that, then our team page can show you that.

You see people of all different colors, all different ethnicities, all different religions, all different sexual orientations, all different gender identities. We’re here, and we exist.

When we’re thinking about access for these communities, those who are most marginalized among us, those who are most harmed by the systems of oppression among us, we think about making sure that the providers are present.

Whether that’s paying tuition for a therapist friend who you know is interested in it.

You think about making sure that clients have access, whether that’s making a donation to an organization that collects money to create subsidies so that people can have access.

This is what this work looks like.

If you also want to educate yourself because you’re someone who does not hold these identities, you can do that as well. But you have to do that with a certain humbleness.

You have to know that I am learning. I am a student. There is no end. There is no end to this learning process. There is no way that you can know what it’s like.

You can be a wonderful ally. You can be a great friend. You can be a phenomenal lover and supporter of people who hold these identities.

When we’re thinking about bringing the medicine, you also have to come from the same place of heart, heart openness, letting egos down, letting defenses down, letting fear down, letting the pain of rejection or feeling like an outsider down.

When communities of color and people who are queer and people who hold gender identities across the spectrum come together and say, “We are going to show up for us,” you support that. You don’t stop that.

When we think about all of these beautifully crafted Black Lives Matter statements and all the Pride flags that show up on websites during the month of June, it’s really time for us to go beyond that.

It’s time for us to pour into people, not just on websites or in organizations, but pour into people in their places of healing.

Reach out to someone you know. If it’s a friend who can benefit from ketamine, reach out to that friend and say, “How can I support you?”

That is the point. The point is access.

So I want you to take a moment and think about, in your own life, how can you make sure that as many people as possible get access?

What are the things that you can actually do that don’t center yourself, that don’t make you a savior, that don’t boost your ego?

If anything, what can you do that really breaks you down to humbleness in a way so that you can serve those who need this the most?