Why I’ve Never Joined the Happy IFS Bus: Reflections on Neuroqueering, Decolonising, and Accessibility in Internal Family Systems

For years, I have wrestled with my relationship to Internal Family Systems (IFS)—not just as a modality, but as a culture.

For those who are unfamiliar, IFS views the mind as composed of distinct 'parts,' each with its own perspective. I've written some more here  

Unfortunately, however, the norms, language and behaviours within the communities surrounding it can seem to require a uniformity that leaves little room for genuine diversity and inclusivity.  

In this piece, I introduce some barriers to IFS accessibility, neuroqueering in therapy, and ways to decolonise mental health practices. 

Photo by Heather Green on Unsplash

My Roots

I came to IFS training 6 years ago as an experienced psychotherapist in private practice using creative approaches such as Jungian sandplay and recognising the significance of aspects of the self being externalised.

I completed IFS Level 1 training in 2020 and Level 2 in 2021. I have taken several CPD courses run by Certified IFS practitioners and Consultants. I’ve experienced IFS therapy with a Certified Therapist, participated in two live international consultation groups, one peer consultation group, been supervised individually for my IFS practice with two UK-based Certified IFS Consultants, and participated for a while in an IFS “staffroom” (peer connection).

First Encounters with IFS Training and Neuroqueer Identity

To neuroqueer (verb) means challenging what is seen as “normal” and supporting greater visibility and value for diversity. It is a deliberate and sometimes subversive practice, as it involves questioning set beliefs and ways of doing things.¹

Incidentally, the first time I shared my neuroqueer identity in any context was within my first practice group in Level 1 IFS training.  I didn’t fully understand what I was expressing at the time (nor did anyone else!), but, looking back, I realise that my experience on that training was actually in situ neuroqueering and finding language for my way of being.

For example, in that first practice group the trainers asked us to use a technique called “The 5 Fs”.  It was prescriptive, and they wanted to see this and only this. Questions and dialogue were not welcome on the basis that time was limited.  This was a catch-22 for me as I needed to understand the theory and ideas behind the method, not just follow a set formula.  There was no room for this.

Navigating IFS as an Autistic person

I started identifying as autistic in 2018, and I’ve learned that a key part of my autistic experience is avoiding external demands. When someone asks me to do something, I need to know why and decide for myself if it matters. I don’t resist everything automatically, and I’m fine with my own internal goals. But techniques, protocols, and step-by-step “healing processes” feel unfamiliar and too rigid to me.

I understand that IFS tries to build a foundation at first, and then allows for more flexibility. I know my demand avoidance is partly personal. Still, I wonder if my discomfort highlights a wider issue whereby the model might leave out or discourage neurodivergent (ND) practitioners and clients from the outset.

The official core IFS training courses I took also did not recognise common neurodivergent ways of being such as alexithymia or aphantasia, nor did it offer neuro-affirming alternatives for engaging with parts. I did all my process work during my training via externalisation (using stones, colour, picture cards, collage) because I couldn’t fulfil what I was being asked to do – “Close your eyes, go inside and find …”

Benefits of IFS and Community Critique

I believe that IFS -  when combined with other psychotherapeutic skills which are not covered on the official training—can be transformative. At the same time, some of the ways I’ve heard IFS promoted and the policing of dissent can feel cultish. I acknowledge that my personal history, neurodivergence, and atypical communication style shape my perceptions; still, I see a need for more openness and critical dialogue within many IFS communities which feel to me like echo chambers.

Parallels between IFS and my Exvangelical Experience

To elaborate further on this, I have often mused on the effects of my exvangelical identity on my experiences with IFS. I see striking similarities between the behaviours of some IFS devotees and the dynamics and relationships which existed in the Christian institutions I left behind. The uncritical worship—particularly of white, male lead trainers—can feel deeply alienating, if not entirely nauseating.

Decolonising IFS: Gatekeeping and Accessibility in Training and Certification

As aspect of IFS that feels colonising is the gate-keeping around IFS training and certification: who gets access, what counts as valid IFS therapy practice, and rigid standards for becoming a certified IFS practitioner.

As noted above, the IFS training courses I took did not recognise or accommodate common ND ways of being. A more decolonised and inclusive approach to IFS therapy would offer flexible training pathways and actively adapt practices to support neurodiversity and a wider range of expression.²

I have no personal evidence for this as I didn't do it (!), but I believe that if I were to have attempted to offer IFS to my clients as I was taught it, it would have failed. I have heard in various fora over the years from countless ND people about negative experiences with IFS, ranging from ineffective to downright harmful.

Were I to apply for certification, I’ve been advised by no less than 3 IFS consultants / Certified Practitioners to select a neurotypical client (few and far between in my practice!) and submit a case video that ticks the boxes (but in effect represents around 10% of the actual work I do). I hope by now it is needless to explain why this systemic demand to perform compliance clashes irreconcilably with my integrity. 

Economic Barriers and Global Disparities in IFS Training

Colonisation in IFS also shows up financially. Training fees reflect US wealth structures, and they tend to match the income expectations of primarily US-based trainers.

This places a massive financial burden on those outside the US. For perspective, the average session rate for a counsellor in the UK is two to three times lower than in the US. Therefore, a UK counsellor must work twice as hard to afford the same training.

Geopolitics in the Therapy Room: The Case of Northern Ireland

Closer to home, the legacy of colonisation manifests in the economic geography of the UK. There is often a steep economic disparity between an NI-based therapist and a mainland UK client.  Apart from the history of actual colonisation and slavery (a “legacy burden” in IFS terms), when this power dynamic remains hidden or unmentioned, it can have a detrimental effect on the therapeutic alliance. It creates a complete reversal of the standard dynamic: here, the therapist holds less systemic privilege than the client.

I readily acknowledge my own privileges. I am a white, cisgender, university-educated woman. I have stable housing and access to state-funded healthcare. But context matters, and the geopolitical economics of therapy cannot be ignored.

Conclusion: Toward Inclusive and Decolonised IFS Therapy

Thank you for reading my brief reflections. I could write much more about each subsection! I genuinely welcome your feedback, challenges, and comments. I hope that sharing these experiences and barriers might spark further dialogue about how Internal Family Systems could evolve to be more inclusive, accessible, and affirming for neurodivergent, queer, and otherwise marginalised clients and practitioners.

Notes and further reading:

1. Neuroqueer theory intersects the fields of queer theory and neurodiversity.  Intersectionality as a concept refers to the way our personal, social, and cultural identities combine within us and lead to varying degrees of privilege and discrimination.  If the majority is seen to be “normal”, then there are degrees of othering, marginalisation and pathologisation associated with those who are outside of this, and there are similarities between the experiences of queer people and neurodivergent people.  People who identify as neuroqueer (noun) or who neuroqueer (verb) or do things which could be described as neuroqueering (adjective) are often neurodivergent and queer, but this is not a necessity.

Nick Walker, who initially coined the term, has written that neurotypical, cisgender,

heterosexual individuals may also identify as neuroqueer if they are actively challenging neuronormativity and heteronormativity. More at www.neuroqueer.com

2. For more on Decolonising Therapy please see Jennifer Mullan's pioneering body of work - https://drjennifermullan.com/