Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Identity, Agency, and Therapeutic Change: Jimena Castro Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdale, Florida
Identity, Agency, and Therapeutic Change: Jimena Castro Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdale, Florida
38–53
NARRATIVE THERAPY
Address correspondence to Jimena Castro, 1162 Arthur St., Hollywood, FL 33019. E-mail: jimena@
nova.edu
38
Epston led to the contextualization of these ideas within a narrative or text metaphor
(White & Epston, 1990).
Some of the main tenets of narrative therapy are: language and meaning shape
and contextualize our experience because of the stories we tell and the ones we do
not tell (White & Epston, 1990); our stories are embedded in more encompassing
cultural and sociopolitical contexts that represent (or fail to represent) our lived
experience (White & Epston, 1990); power and knowledge are constitutive of
people’s lives through “constructed ideas that are accorded a truth status” (White
& Epston, 1990, p. 19); narrative practitioners challenge the discourses and prac-
tices “that propose and assert objective reality accounts of the human condition”
(White & Epston, 1990, p. 28); people who come to therapy have “knowledges and
skills that have been generated in the histories of . . . [their] lives” (White, 2011,
p. 3) that sometimes have been left out of their dominant narratives; and, because
“there is no such thing as an ‘essential’ self” (Freedman & Combs, 1996, p. 34),
it is possible to re-author a person’s identity.
Narrative Practices
The aforementioned theoretical underpinnings have originated a wide array of nar-
rative practices: externalizing conversations (White, 2007; White & Epston, 1990),
conversations that attend to unique outcomes (White, 2007), re-authoring conversa-
tions (White, 1995, 2007), the use of archival documents containing knowledges of
people who have experienced a particular problem (Maisel, Epston, & Borden, 2004),
and so on. All of these practices are usually interwoven throughout narrative conversa-
tions. To best illuminate the concepts of agency and identity, I will briefly elaborate
on two of these practices, externalizing conversations and re-authoring conversations.
relationships” (White & Epston, 1990, p. 4). A post-structuralist view added to this
idea that persons have internalized problems as part of “their self or the selves of
others” (White, 2007, p. 9), and that externalizing conversations become helpful in
deconstructing “the objectification of the problem against cultural practices of objec-
tification of people” (White, 2007, p. 9). Through an externalizing conversation, it is
possible for people to “unravel some of the negative conclusions they have usually
reached about their identity under the influence of the problem” (White, 2007, p. 26).
As people are invited by therapists to reflect on the events of these alternative themes
or counter-plots, there is new opportunity for them to form identity descriptions that
contradict the negative identity conclusions that are associated with what have been
the more dominant stories of their lives. (White, 2011, p. 6)
Douglas Flemons (1991, 2002; Flemons & Gralnik, 2013; Green & Flemons, 2004)
has developed a particular orientation to brief therapy informed by relational logic.
His relational approach to therapy has been influenced by Eastern traditions, such
ways of relating. Flemons does not “consider hypnosis a special state. Rather, [he]
view[s] it as the creation and maintenance of a special relationship, a relationship
that bridges the mind-body division, altering, while it continues, the everyday
boundaries of the conscious ‘self’” (p. xvi).
According to Flemons (2002), trance experience allows for the introduction of
freedom in different relationships, such as between therapists and clients, between
clients and themselves, between clients and others, and between clients and their
problem. When clients and therapists are more in concordance, being of one mind,
between each other and within themselves, new ideas and possibilities are gener-
ated from within the relationship between them and the relationship between their
awareness and their experience. Trance allows for a shift in perception, for the
introduction of relational freedom. This freedom opens up possibilities for find-
ing new connections and/or losing others (such as the separated connection with
the problem).
Shifting the Relationship Between Clients and Their Problems. Flemons suggests
that it is possible to shift a client’s sense of agency “from a helpless victim . . . to
an active researcher in pursuit of knowledge” (Flemons & Gralnik, 2013, p. 44)
by inviting him or her to become curious and to gather information about his or
her problem.
When you’re curious about something—when you want to learn more about it—you
tend to lean toward or into it, both physically and attitudinally. This shift, from separa-
tion to connection, from frightened withdrawal to fascinated engagement, is sometimes
all it takes to occasion a significant change in the problem itself. (Flemons & Gralnik,
2013, p. 43)
On October 13, 2014, I invited Jim Hibel and Douglas Flemons to participate in
a recorded conversation, during which I asked them to compare and contrast their
respective therapeutic orientations. In response to my request, each shared a case
that illuminated his therapeutic assumptions and choices. The conversation took
us through a variety of topics, including a discussion of the volitional and nonvo-
litional aspects of therapy and their relationship to shifts in identity and agency.
The following is an annotated and edited transcript of the discussion that day; all
quotations below (unless otherwise specified as from a publication) are personal
communications transcribed from the recording.
In searching for a common language between his and Hibel’s ideas about iden-
tity, Flemons suggested a definition of identity as “an unfolding story, rather than
as a reified entity located within an isolated, individual self” (i.e., what Bateson
[2000] would call a “dormitive principle”). Flemons also laid down the idea that
if you think of identity as a thing that is then, somehow, carried within, then you’ve
got to go out and try to do something to that thing. But if you are thinking of identity
as a story, . . . that story might unfold differently into the future.
According to Flemons, our identities condition the choices we make because our
presuppositions and assumptions orient us to “automatically make choices here,
and . . . [to not] consider choices over there because after all that is what my identity
would tell me to do.” For him, a main distinction between both approaches is that
narrative therapists address identity in “a sort of a politically informed way,” that
is, they say to their clients, essentially, “Let’s talk about . . . the way the dominant
discourse constrains your assumptions of what it means to be you and then let’s
explore the alternatives to that.” Flemons considers that in narrative therapy, the
therapeutic process involves some kind of “conscious intent,” and he suggests an
alternative, in which shifts in identity might be “inductively discovered.” To illu-
minate the process of how a client comes to the point of saying, “Jeez, I thought
this would have to happen, but here I’m doing something I never dreamed of,”
Flemons shared the following case.
I’ve seen this teenager four or five times: two or three meetings over a year ago, just
before she turned 17, and then two meetings more recently, since she turned 18 . . . Her
parents were always opposed to the whole idea of vaccinations, and because she’s
homeschooled, she got by without ever getting a shot. And she never needed any
medication or fluids delivered intravenously, so she’s never been on the receiving end
of a hypodermic needle. But now she wants to go to college, and the one she wants
to attend requires her to be current on several vaccinations. And she hopes to travel
internationally, which will mean additional shots. She herself is not worried about
any supposed dangers associated with inoculations themselves, but when she came to
see me, she was so afraid of needles and doctors, she would faint at the sight—even
on TV or in a movie—of a needle or of blood, or even in response to talking about
needles or getting blood taken.
Her parents wanted her to go to university and to travel, so they supported her do-
ing whatever was necessary. My client’s presupposition was, “Jeez, I’d love to go to
college and travel, but it’s just not going to be possible because I’ll need to get shots
and blood work done, and I’ll faint and not be able to go through with it.” Everything
to do with getting medical clearance is going to involve blood, needles, and doctors,
so therefore it’s not possible.
So then she comes to me and wants to know, “Is it possible for me and my reaction
to be different than this?” What I don’t do is to set [her up to be] against fainting. What
I set up through trance is also a lot of expectation on her part. I invite the expectation.
How could you discover that something could be different?
shift, however, did not organize the therapeutic process. Flemons considers that
by bringing curiosity to the specifics of how the problem becomes problematic,
clients are already beginning to reorient to it. They establish “a connection of
curiosity . . . [that] shifts . . . [their] agency.” Continuing with his description of
the case, Flemons said,
So, initial change after we had two meetings: . . . She said she was talking to some
friends and they were all talking about blood or something, and instead of her getting
faint, she got flushed. So to my mind this is a good example of . . . “Wait, the blood
went in the opposite direction of what it usually does!” When you faint, blood pres-
sure in your head decreases because blood flows [down], and here we have blood
bubbling in the other direction. . . . She [also] said she was able to go to the doctor’s
for a checkup, and at the appointment, when she was talking to the doctor by herself,
she got an idea: “I know, I’m going to surprise my parents and get my first inoculation.
I’m going to get it.” And the nurse asked her to lie down, and she said, “No, I’m going
to sit up.” She did it [got the shot], and she went out to the waiting room and told her
mother, and everybody celebrated.
Although Flemons does not foster clients’ conscious intent, he endorses thera-
pists’ commitment to intentionally setting the context to facilitate nonvolitional
change. Some time after the success in the doctor’s office, the client was at a movie
with her friends, and when blood was spilled on the screen in a gruesome way, she
fainted in the theater. She and her family all considered this to be a setback. Worried
there was something medically wrong with her, the parents unilaterally decided she
needed to get blood work done, and they went ahead and made the appointment for
her, telling her only after the fact. In response to this information being shared in
a therapy session with the daughter and the mother, Flemons facilitated a shift in
his client’s sense of agency by offering possibilities, choices, or avenues she could
take, within the constraints of the defined context. He suggested the possibility of
something different happening, with the teenager discovering the particulars of
what it would be. Using metaphoric language and playfulness, in a conversation
with the daughter and her mother, Flemons “facilitated her, rather than her mother
or father, getting to make the decisions, the choices.” Flemons set the context for
the young woman to “call the shots,” rather than her parents:
Because she had had a setback, and she had fainted in the movie, her parents had
decided there was something wrong. . . . [They said to her,] “You need to go to the
doctor and get your blood taken, . . . and we have made this appointment for you at
this time on this day, and because we don’t want you to be anxious, we also have
obtained a benzodiazepine that you can take ahead of time, so you’ll be chill.” And
while she [the daughter] is talking about this, she’s clearly not cool with it. . . . I said
[to her mother], “So at this point you and your husband’s love for your daughter has
resulted in your [having her go to the doctor to get blood work done] as the best way
to make sure that she’s okay.” . . . She agreed, so I said, “Would it be possible, would
it be okay with you and your husband if this [appointment] happens, but your daughter
calls the shots for how it happens?” She said, “Yes, I guess so.” And I used the phrase
“call the shots” purposefully, of course. . . . [And then I said to the daughter,] “I can
see three different ways of your being able to call the shots. One is you delay when the
appointment is, and you say [to your parents], ‘You are not making the appointment
for me. I’m 18 now, and I’m going to make the appointment.’ And then you make
it [at a later time or on a later date].” And I see her relax, because I just offered this
alternative, [and she can think,] “I am not getting dictated by somebody else, I get to
call the shots and I can delay.” [And then I say:] “Of course there is another way to
call the shots and that will be to say, ‘Forget it, I’m going to make the appointment
before the originally scheduled time, but it’s me making it, not you.’ [And it is yours]
because you go before [they wanted you to go]. And there is a third way: You do it at
exactly the same time they scheduled it, but you make sure that you are going because
that’s the time you chose. Not after, not before, just . . . you choosing that time, and I
guess then you want to also decide, ‘Am I taking the medication or not?’ because that
would certainly, if you take it, that can certainly help. But . . . ,” and then I turn back
to the mother, “Would it be okay if she were to decide whether it’s okay to take the
medication or not?” [Mom agrees,] “Yes, yes, it’s fine.” . . . By the end of the session,
before they left, the daughter said, “I have decided that I’m going to do it at the same
time, and I’m probably not going to take the medication.”
Flemons later got an e-mail from his young client, saying that she had gone to
the appointment and had “called the shots,” and she had noticed a shift from an
anxious state of thinking and worrying to herself that she was going to faint, to an
eager and exciting sense of agency. For Flemons this is an example of
It’s a beautiful piece of work and I don’t know that I would’ve been able to do the
same thing, because I work with a different set of practices, but I think there are
some places where my presuppositions overlap with Douglas’s. . . . One is, among
the things I love is the way that Douglas has, has what I would call inspiration. It’s
about what is important to her based on what he’s hearing. From the narrative per-
spective, calling this a problem, it’s a protest against something that doesn’t work for
her. And . . . Douglas . . . picks up on [the fact that] she has issues around not calling
the shots, that she’s not calling the shots, that she’s a victim of all of this. . . . It has
something to do with the needles, but Douglas, by working on her relationships, sees
that . . . she’s not calling the shots maybe with her parents [and] she’s not calling the
shots in her own life. So [he] presents her with this beautiful metaphor that the shots
are doing something to her and she’s going to now call the shots. And she has three
ways of doing this so she cannot not call the shots.
Furthermore, she can always say to Douglas, “I’m not interested in your suggesting
that I call the shots.” In which case, she [would] still be calling the shots, in that [it would
be] a protest against not having agency. She almost cannot not demonstrate agency.
It’s beautiful, very appreciative. What I would see as similar . . . is this presupposition
that the alternative is in there somewhere. When presented with the opportunity to have
agency, . . . her issue around not having agency suggests that given the opportunity,
she would. And [when she’s] presented with a variety of ways of doing that, it’s her
way of having agency.
Hibel also commented on how, within the narrative perspective, “clients’ ex-
pressions of discomfort indicate a preference”; their protest against the problem
implies that they have “a vision . . . of themselves without a problem; otherwise,
it wouldn’t be a problem.” Hibel shared the following case:
[I have a client,] a woman that I’ve been working with for a while. [She was in] a
long-term marriage that she hadn’t realized how difficult it was until . . . her kids were
grown up. And she had come to a place where . . . every day her husband would come
home, and she would greet him at the door with a tray with hors d’oeuvres and a drink
on it. And that’s what her life had become, that kind of life—serving a man. And she
had become involved in his business and had given up her own profession in order to
do that. For years, it was constantly being reinforced that she was less than. . . . The
marriage dissolved, but her husband had been telling her, “You are not as smart as
me.” And that was a problem for her. I looked at that as a protest. “Why,” [I asked],
“is that a problem for you, that he would say that you are not as smart as him?” And
she said, “Because I really don’t believe that,” which was an important moment for
her. So I think I said back to her something like, “You know, I agree. I don’t think you
are as smart as him.” And I said, “Is it possible that you are smarter?” And she was
able to agree with that. That “it’s possible that I’m smarter than him.” So he got to be
right but in the wrong way.
his client found out that she had not responded to her husband’s request because,
according to her, she did not want to agree with his definition of the problem. Once
the client reclaimed her sense of agency by reclaiming her profession, however,
she did something about her health. Hibel explained,
[My client] was driving past a gym, when the angel at her shoulder said, “Grab the
steering wheel and turn into that gym.” She went into the gym and set an appointment
with a trainer. She asked for the toughest personal trainer they had, somebody that
really would give her a hard time. [I asked,] “Is that a matter of pride for you that you
were able to listen this time to the angel on your shoulder instead of whatever other
voices?” And she said, “Yeah.” . . . I said, “Holy shit, it now occurs to me that you’ve
known something all along that nobody else has known. Tell me if this is correct.” She
said, “What?” I continued, “That you were not going to do anything to change your
body until you’d gotten your brain back.” . . . She explained to me that she actually
thought that it was true but that she hadn’t thought about it exactly that way. But that
for her to change her body would’ve been to change it for him, but now that she got
her brain back and her profession back, it was okay to change her body because she
wasn’t doing it for the wrong reasons.
In response to Hibel’s work, Flemons pointed out some of the connections be-
tween the two stories. Similarly to his own client, Hibel’s client “was able to do
it [i.e., make a change] when she wasn’t doing it for somebody else.” In addition,
Flemons emphasized the nonvolitional aspects of the process of shifting identity
and the resulting choices.
The element that stands out for me, out of the “holy shit,” [laughs] [is] that she found
[herself doing something different]. I would describe it [as], “She found herself turning
in [to the gym].” She didn’t decide, “I’m going to make myself.” She found herself
listening to herself. Now, that commitment is a very different kind of commitment.
In both cases, [we were addressing the issue of] agency in these women’s situa-
tions, . . . [ensuring] that the relationship with significant others was taken care of in
some way—in your case, through separation and divorce; in my case, through making
it possible for her parents not to be pushy in their efforts to help.
When asked about his view of context, Flemons underscored the importance
of thinking in terms of pattern; to facilitate such an understanding, he introduced
So [recently] we had this conversation, and all of a sudden, she stops, and I said, “What’s
going on?” and she said, “I just had a picture of myself in my 20s.” . . . This was when
she was a professional before . . . and she said, . . . “I’m wearing a business suit and
good shoes.” So we talked about that image and what that image means to her, but
it’s an image that’s very much in contrast to the woman standing with the tray. And,
so we had an extensive conversation about that. That was connected to then, where
she sees herself going. Having reclaimed that [identity], where would she like to go?
I might find myself saying, “Go ahead and take that [college] diploma that you [earned]
and why not use it as an absorbing serviette underneath the drinks and the hors d’oeuvres
on the tray? So you, when you look down at the drinks and the hors d’oeuvres that
you are going to be offering, the diploma is there helping to absorb any spills, and
as you do that, let’s discover what happens.” Or “Why don’t you take [your] framed
diploma [off the wall and] . . . use [the whole thing] as a tray . . . cause the glass is a
nice surface, . . . flat and strong. And so . . . use that diploma in a frame [as a serving
tray] and put each of the items—your husband’s drinks, . . . [his] food—and I don’t
know if it will be your right hand or your left hand that will be holding [the framed
diploma as a serving tray,] but if you bring it forward into offering to him [food and
beverages], and you are able to look at him, and look at the frame, and look at your
certificate there underneath [the food and the drink], I wonder what you found just
happened.” So there is a juxtaposition of the different identities right there, and then I
would be curious to [discover] what bubbles up as a result of the juxtaposition.
Hibel commented that although some narrative therapists might characterize ex-
ternalization with metaphors of opposition, others, approaching externalization more
generally as a means of altering relationships between clients and their problems,
use less confrontational metaphors. He mentioned White’s (2007) suggestion that
clients could educate the problem “by asking ‘What would you teach the problem?’
or ‘What would you like the problem to know about you?’” White (2007), like
Flemons, was concerned about “the dualistic, either/or habits of thought . . . in West-
ern culture . . . and its associated hazards” (p. 35), such as totalizing descriptions.
In Table 1, I have distilled from my conversation with Hibel and Flemons some
of the commonalities and differences between narrative and relational brief therapy
in terms of the three main points of this article—identity, agency, and therapeutic
change.
COMMENTARY
When I first approached Hibel and Flemons about this discussion, I thought of
their therapeutic approaches in terms of dichotomies, such as unconscious versus
conscious, behaviors versus meaning, trance logic versus narrative logic, and so
on. As a student trying to figure out my epistemological ground, I had the sense
that I needed to make stark contrasts. During their conversation, however, I real-
ized that although they were idiosyncratically and ideologically distinct from each
other, these approaches share a common relational ground and a deep respect for
different contextual levels, whether these are addressed explicitly or implicitly.
Flemons and Hibel both consider identity relational. For Flemons, the therapeutic
process involves a shift or a reorientation in how clients relate to themselves and
REFERENCES
Bateson, G. (2000). Steps to an ecology of mind. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.
Duncan, B. L., Miller, S. D., Wampold, B. E., & Hubble, M. A. (2010). The heart and soul
of change: Delivering what works in therapy. Washington, DC: American Psycho-
logical Association.