Who Gets to Help Us?

Credentials, Community Care, and Black Discernment (Part II)

There is a conversation happening on TikTok right now about credentials, licensing, and whether people should take unlicensed helping professionals seriously. The conversation has centered on two public figures: Dr. Raquel Martin and Dr. Cheyenne Bryant. On the surface, it looks like a simple disagreement about licensing. One side argues that licensing protects the public, creates accountability, and establishes professional standards. The other side raises a broader question about who gets to be recognized as credible, especially when their work exists outside traditional systems.

This conversation immediately made me think about something I wrote in my upcoming book It’s More Than Design: A Vision for Developing Black Entrepreneurship “Life-changing theories, practices, and discoveries will come from the unknown, unlikely, and unqualified.” (Kennedy, 2026)

That is the part of this conversation I cannot ignore.

For Black people, the question of who gets to help us cannot begin and end with whether a formal system has approved them. That does not mean education, training, or licensing do not matter. They do. But it does mean we have to be honest about the systems we are using as the final standard. If the same institutions that once excluded us are now the only institutions allowed to define legitimacy, then we have to ask a more honest question: are we protecting people from harm, or are we protecting the gate?

Licensing matters because care work can cause real harm when people misrepresent their training, work outside their scope, or blur the line between therapy and coaching. In clinical spaces, credentials are not just decoration. They can create standards for competence, informed consent, confidentiality, boundaries, and accountability (American Psychological Association, 2017). People deserve to know whether they are receiving therapy, coaching, education, or spiritual guidance.

But a license is not the same thing as wisdom. It is not the same thing as cultural understanding, emotional safety, or community impact. A licensed provider can still cause harm. An unlicensed provider can still offer guidance that helps people think, heal, and move forward. That is why the question cannot only be, “Are they licensed?” It also has to be, “Are they honest, clear, ethical, accountable, and producing good fruit?”

That is where this conversation becomes bigger than two people online.

The American Psychological Association formally apologized in 2021 for psychology’s role in promoting and failing to challenge racism, racial discrimination, and human hierarchy in the United States (American Psychological Association, 2021). That matters because the systems we now use to define legitimacy have not always been neutral. Black people have had to fight for access to education, credentials, research spaces, and professional authority. So when institutional approval becomes the only way we recognize credibility, we risk confusing access with ability.

There is also a spiritual layer to this. Black communities have always practiced care outside formal systems. Before licensing boards, there were elders, mothers, pastors, teachers, aunties, midwives, prayer circles, and community leaders helping people survive. Scripture teaches discernment, not blind acceptance. Matthew 7:16 says people are known by their fruit. First John 4:1 teaches believers to test the spirits (New International Version Bible, 1978/2011). In other words, the question is not only, “Who certified you?” It is also, “What fruit has your work produced?”

That does not mean every self-proclaimed healer is safe. It means we need better discernment, not automatic dismissal. If someone lies about their credentials, exploits vulnerable people, causes harm, or practices outside their scope, they should be held accountable. But if someone is clear about being a coach, educator, speaker, or guide, then the conversation should focus on transparency, impact, scope, and ethics, not public shaming.

We do not have to choose between blind trust in institutions and blind trust in influencers. Both can be dangerous. What we need is collective discernment.

Are they honest?

Are they clear?

Are they helping?

Are they accountable?

Do they refer out when something is beyond their role?

Are they producing good fruit?

Those questions should apply to everyone. Licensed and unlicensed. The issue is not whether licensing matters. It does. The issue is whether licensing should be treated as the only possible evidence of credibility. The deeper question is whether Black people are allowed to recognize, evaluate, protect, and build our own ecosystems of care without abandoning the value of training, ethics, and accountability. Healing existed before the system gave it a title. And if we are serious about care, we have to be serious enough to question both the gate and the person standing outside of it.

References

American Psychological Association. (2017). Ethical principles of psychologists and code

          of conduct. https://www.apa.org/ethics/code

American Psychological Association. (2021, October 29). APA resolution on apology to

people of color for APA’s role in promoting, perpetuating, and failing to challenge

racism, racial discrimination, and human hierarchy in the

U.S. https://www.apa.org/about/policy/racism-apology

Kennedy, B. (2025). It’s More Than Design: A Vision for Developing Black Entrepreneurship.

It’s More Than Design Media.

New International Version Bible. (2011). Zondervan. (Original work published 1978)