Misogyny and MFT Training: Gendered Reality vs. Therapeutic Neutrality

The implementation of this bill could inspire similar progress in the United States and significantly support the lives of many women while raising consciousness of the systemic nature of misogyny-motivated crimes that have yet to be acknowledged in our own culture. If passed, gender crimes could receive the same legal protections as other hate crimes motivated by race, religion, disability, and sexual orientation.

But what exactly is misogyny, and how has it shaped our understanding of human experiences? The word misogyny comes from the Greek words misein, which means “to hate,” and gynē, which means “woman.” The term was first introduced in a pamphlet titled “The Arraignment of Women” published in 1615, written by the British author Joseph Swetnam (Tarrant, 2019). Historically, the term misogyny has been present in various cultures, often manifesting in patriarchal structures and ideologies that subordinate or devalue women. For example, Lazar (2007) argues that the understanding of gender ideologies and power asymmetries has evolved, particularly within the feminist discourse of the 20th century, where these concepts gained prominence as key frameworks for describing systemic sexism, discrimination, and violence against women. Yet, exploring the role of misogyny in shaping relational dynamics has not always been a central focus of marriage and family therapy (MFT) clinical training.

In our work as female MFT researchers and clinical practitioners, we have become much more aware of how misogyny affects our clients, as we hear countless accounts of suffering—ranging from subtle workplace discrimination to overt hostility and violence towards women. These personal and professional experiences helped us recognize that misogyny is not only a societal issue but also one that is often present in therapeutic and educational encounters (Abraham & Rajaei, 2024). However, despite the pervasiveness of such experiences, openly acknowledging misogyny remains somewhat taboo. Given the nature of misogyny and its impact on both clients and female MFT practitioners, how do we develop spaces in which we can respond and explore the effects of misogyny as we continue to be aware that no woman is exempt from experiencing these challenges?

For us, this awareness extends beyond the therapy room and into our professional and personal experiences navigating gender-based challenges. We have come to understand that female MFTs will most likely experience the effects of misogyny within and across educational and professional environments. For example, Edwards et al. (2023) explored gender differences in advancement between rank, salary, and representation among MFT faculty members. They reported that despite females being the majority with 60.15% in MFT public universities, they were paid an average of $5,596.25 less than men. While the issue of gender parity within the MFT profession is an example of systemic inequality, this might be only one dimension of a broader problem. The same forces that drive pay disparity (e.g., gender-based oppression, undervaluing women’s contributions, etc.) reinforce a hierarchy where women’s experiences are continually sidelined.

Fundamental training in MFT follows a curriculum that encourages learners and educators to critically examine personal biases (Tummala-Narra, 2009), develop cultural awareness or competence (Sue et al., 2022), maintain professionalism (Sprenkle & Piercy, 2005), and prioritize developing a therapeutic alliance by leveraging common factors in therapy (Davis et al., 2012). The focus of clinical training is to support clients and families in achieving treatment goals by enhancing communication (Satir, 1983; Beck, 2011), exploring how people want to live their lives according to their values and preferences (White & Epston, 2005), and expanding how we understand how systemic oppression and prejudice contribute to problem development at individual and community levels (Hardy, 2001; Johnson, 2014). In alignment with diversity and inclusion values, there has been significant contributions that support a therapist’s attunement to culture (McDowell et al., 2023) and explorations linked to the person of the therapist work (Aponte & Kissil, 2016).

However, despite these commitments to self-awareness, cultural competence, and systemic understanding, the reality of our profession is: Women make up the majority of the MFT workforce, accounting for 74% of practitioners (AAMFT, 2020). This gendered reality compels us to confront the following question: What happens when society evades the responsibility to acknowledge that we, too, are likely to face these same challenges while fulfilling our roles as therapists? In a society where no woman is immune to misogynistic encounters, how do we create the conditions necessary to address these injustices—both for those receiving therapy and for those delivering it?

For many female therapists, the training experience often involves enduring harmful relational encounters in the name of professionalism, sometimes in silence, due to the fear of being labeled as “not a good therapist” when speaking up is no longer an option. This mirrors a larger societal pattern where women are frequently seen as “the problem.” It begs the question: At what point does the effort to manage biases and maintain unconditional positive regard in our professional roles become a form of self-alienation, especially when there is historical evidence that society tends to conform to gendered expectations?

We felt compelled to invite you to join us in exploring MFT training as it relates to therapeutic neutrality and invisible gender inequalities. Through this exploration, we have identified shared experiences that connect us all—from students to educators. These experiences include the expectation to prioritize professionalism in the face of blatant sexism, and the challenge of providing therapy in environments where our social identities may lead some clients to perceive us as not part of humanity. We invite you to explore how the concept of neutrality in therapy, particularly in systemic family therapy, is problematic because it assumes an even playing field between individuals, often obscuring the effects of misogyny. During educational encounters, we have observed a disconnect between the ideals we are taught to uphold—values centered on inclusivity and justice—and the realities we face within institutions that are not immune to the very inequalities we strive to address.

Experiencing the disconnection

As an aspiring doctoral student in MFT, I have observed that much of the training on diversity and social justice centers on helping practitioners like myself recognize and confront their own biases. However, I also recognized that much of what had been addressed in the classroom still required deeper explorations. At times, I left classrooms feeling uncertain about my place in the field, questioning whether my perspectives aligned with the profession. I noticed discussions around issues like misogyny and patriarchy often remained neutralized by the fear of taking a firm stance against inequality. I began to lose hope until I found a space where my female colleagues began sharing their experiences with gendered challenges in their professional roles. This was the first time I felt validated and encouraged to bring these words into existence to socialize our stories.

Throughout my education, I recognized the incredible amount of energy to meet the professional standards, that women of color are expected to uphold to arrive at a status of credibility and acceptance. There is often an unspoken expectation to remain “not too emotional,” maintaining a sense of detachment and neutrality in response to our client’s lived experiences. Learning how to become an MFT—especially for women from diverse backgrounds like myself—has sometimes discouraged genuine emotional expression, and showing up as a whole person in the therapy space as if showing our authenticity somehow diminishes our ability to be therapists. This disconnection may position women as the default standard-bearers for professionalism as an unspoken rule of engagement.

This realization brings me to a critical turning point: the trouble may be more than whether we show emotion or provide corrective experiences in therapy. Instead, the deeper problem may be connected to the imposition of rigid expectations about how therapists, particularly women, should act—expectations deeply rooted in patriarchal, male-dominated ideologies (Ibarra et al., 2019). While explicit discrimination based on race or sexuality is considered illegal in the U.S., implicit biases linked to gendered challenges are still a reality for women everywhere.

Reflecting broader societal patterns, it is becoming more clear that every dialogue I am part of includes subtle forms of misogyny, often disguised as inclusivity and neutrality. This awareness brings me to acknowledge the disconnect between the values of our field and the practices we want to stay close to. Ultimately, all these considerations brought me closer to understanding what is my role and contribution as an MFT practitioner. Drawing from thinkers like Michele Bograd and Vikki Reynolds, I’ve come to see the necessity of taking an active role and stance in therapeutic environments (Bograd, 1992; Reynolds, 2008). Renouncing the construct of therapeutic neutrality, which has blinded us into believing we are being objective observers, has become a significant part of my contribution to the field. Staying close to my humanity is not only important but essential. This shift has not only reshaped how I approach my work but has also allowed me to make connections between values and practices that I strive to uphold as a person. (Yuritzi Uribe Lemus, PhD student)

We invite you to explore how the concept of neutrality in therapy, particularly in systemic family therapy, is problematic because it assumes an even playing field between individuals, often obscuring the effects of misogyny.

The tensions between moral dilemmas and personal well-being

As a black female clinician and a doctoral student, I am becoming more aware of how institutions and social conditions are shaping my learning experience, especially when gendered challenges are the center of these interactions. I have experienced how voicing perspectives tied to racial and gender identity can lead to moments of tension. I find it valuable to explore how to position myself when misogyny, racism, and sexism are subtly or overtly present in therapeutic environments.

Rather than adopting a stance of therapeutic neutrality, I am interested in actively engaging in dialogue that challenges the effects of misogyny. With this hope in mind, I ask: How do we as therapists, especially those from marginalized backgrounds, respond when faced with the effects of misogyny for example? I am interested in exploring connections between systemic oppression. This brings me to ask again: What if racism and sexism have a seat in the room? Should I subjugate myself to a neutral stance in the name of centering my client’s experience, or do we owe each other something more within our therapeutic relationships?

These reflections raise important questions about a clinician’s right to safety and respect in therapeutic spaces. I’ve observed this disconnect often happens when those who don’t share the same social identity are more likely to empathize with a single aspect of marginalization while overlooking personal perspectives that might complicate this simple aspect of therapeutic neutrality. When posing such questions and challenging established norms, I sometimes experience my voice being disruptive rather than essential—reinforcing traditional ideologies that center neutrality and objectivity above systemic engagement with gendered challenges.

It is important to welcome dialogue that explores the impact of systemic oppression on everyone in therapeutic spaces as therapists are not immune to the same societal biases affecting clients. Knowing the impact of these tensions is a reflection of the difficulty in confronting misogyny. Especially when clinicians of color are reported to face more discrimination that is linked to the intersectionality of gender and ethnicity in training environments (González Vera et al., 2024).

As a therapist and future MFT educator, I find it helpful to remember that women and minorities in the United States have endured generations of misogyny, racism, and other harmful ideologies. For this reason, I envision contributing to an academic environment that models and supports a clinician’s right to mutual respect, where the voices of women and minorities are integral to shaping how we interpret professional ethics in the therapy room. I hope for a training environment that supports the idea that both the therapist and the client should feel affirmed even amid opposing values and intersectional positioning. (Chantel Rose Mesta, PhD student)

Invisible Labor

Similar to my peers, I have come to recognize the insidious effects of misogyny and gender-based oppression as they make an appearance in both my personal and professional life. Navigating my responsibilities as a graduate student, a single mother, and the primary caregiver for my children has revealed the immense burden of invisible labor that women, particularly those from marginalized groups, tend to bear. This labor has tangible effects on my academic performance and emotional well-being, just highlighting how deeply felt gendered expectations are within our society and even in educational institutions (Edwards et al., 2023). My experience illustrates the weight of challenges faced by many women—especially women who are immigrants, identify as queer, and are also single mothers—who wrestle with both societal and relational dynamics that significantly affect their professional opportunities.

Throughout my academic journey, I have felt the weight of coercive relational dynamics from my past marriage, which delayed my ability to pursue an MFT program until I was free from that environment. Now, as I balance the demands of academia with the complexities of single parenting, the struggle is not only about succeeding academically but also about shielding my children from internalized gendered messages that threaten their self-worth. This experience is deeply reflective of societal pressures that expect women to “bear up” under immense strain while still performing at the same level as their male counterparts, who are often free from similar burdens (Criado-Perez, 2019). The systemic challenges that I face, including a legal system, further exacerbate my struggle to succeed within an academic framework not designed to account for these realities.

Despite these difficulties, I have found strength in the support of my professors, who have shown understanding and flexibility toward my lived experiences. However, the continued impact of the invisible labor I perform as a woman directly affects my capacity to fully engage with my academic work. This experience points to a larger, systemic issue within graduate education—namely, the lack of structural support for those who must balance caretaking and professional advancement. In sharing this narrative, I hope to bring to light some of the invisible demands that have been placed upon women and reveal how the personal and professional development in MFT training is also political—when it comes to gender-based injustices. (Karen Russell, MFT student)

Welcoming discomfort

It has only been 10 weeks since I joined an MFT graduate program and I’ve become increasingly aware of how biases and systemic sexism can subtly persist, sometimes presenting as “therapeutic neutrality.” Being closely aligned with feminism, it is easy to locate gendered challenges in education. As a woman, I’ve experienced moments where I’ve felt pressured to bite my tongue to avoid creating discomfort among people, especially when raising questions about gender issues that counter-cultural norms.

This hesitation to confront gendered reality mirrors what Caroline Criado-Perez (2019) discusses in Invisible Women, where systems designed predominantly by and for men lead women to internalize misogyny and self-censor to maintain harmony. This conditioning, where voicing concerns risks being labeled as a “man-hater”, is something I’ve witnessed repeatedly, in my professional and personal environments. It makes me question: if we can’t fully visit gendered experiences in training, how can we expect to do so effectively in the therapy room?

My experiences have shown me that the reluctance to confront systemic sexism is not merely an oversight but a reflection of the discomfort embedded within and across systems. This discomfort may be compounded by a lack of exploration that recognizes the lived experiences of women who have been conditioned to internalize and perpetuate these biases. In Invisible Women, Criado-Perez highlights the exclusion of women’s experiences in the development of living systems (e.g., education, medicine, transportation, etc.) perpetuate gender biases and systemic inequalities, leading to environments that fail to account for the unique needs and perspectives of women. Could this contribute to similar troubles in MFT training?

Throughout my interactions, I am paying attention to the moral dilemma that considers how to transgress a system that, in the name of “therapeutic neutrality,” subtly discourages advocacy. An example that further complicates the challenge of visiting gender issues in education is when conversations about sexism provoke defensiveness, shifting the focus away from change and placing the burden one more time on women to soften their approach. I’ve found this message in our training is often vague stating “we must address this”, without any tangible steps provided.

Given these challenges, I believe it is important to welcome all the discomfort these conversations require in hopes of making the invisible visible. From this context, I find value in going beyond the script and actively participating in shaping the environments I am part of. For me, active engagement can be transformational in shifting challenges I experience daily and hopefully these considerations can lead to meaningful change in both personal and professional settings. (Lisa Schloss, MFT student)

Visiting the future: Considerations for relational engagement in MFT training

Moving beyond traditional pedagogical frameworks in relational training may require more than simply managing biases—it calls for a deeper exploration of gender inequities as they manifest within our learning environments. In centering our experiences, we recognize the importance of examining how institutions, training sites, and supervisors can support women in their professional development, honoring their unique identities and addressing areas where they are most vulnerable. This brings us to a critical question: What changes are needed in therapeutic training and supervision to ensure that therapists, especially women, are not required to sacrifice their humanity for their professional roles?

A welcoming space to develop a counter-cultural approach to misogyny could be the classroom, where educational environments encourage the exploration of diverse experiences, directly connecting them to the therapeutic work we aim to do. Considering that all of us contribute to and benefit from well-established social agreements in various contexts, it’s helpful to reflect on how these agreements shape our roles, relationships, and responsibilities, both personally and professionally.

As we come together to share our narratives in our vulnerabilities, we acknowledge the many layers that contribute to making misogyny more visible.

Ultimately, we embrace this commitment to visiting gender challenges and practicing the principles of systemic frameworks as not only a necessary part of MFT training but also as a foundation for more inclusive and reflective practices. We believe that educational encounters grounded in meaningful relationships can serve as a powerful antidote to the challenges women encounter in their training. As we come together to share our narratives in our vulnerabilities, we acknowledge the many layers that contribute to making misogyny more visible. In this way, we envision a future where therapists in training are supported in bringing their stories into their work—without compromising their identity or humanity—ultimately creating a profession that embodies the values that most matter to each of us.