Today we’d like to introduce you to Salma Soliman.
Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
My journey to becoming a therapist started long before I even knew what mental health really was. I was always the shoulder to cry on—the mediator, the trusted friend—and while I appreciated being that person, it often came with emotional weight I didn’t fully understand. Looking back, I think I’ve always had a high level of emotional intelligence, but I also carried the weight of feeling responsible for others. I grew up in New Jersey in a culture where mental health wasn’t openly discussed. Messages like “don’t be too emotional” or “that’s being dramatic” were common. Vulnerability wasn’t really modeled, and for a long time, I didn’t even have the language to name what I was feeling.
Being a first-generation Muslim-American added another layer. I constantly felt like I was straddling two worlds—too American to be fully accepted as Muslim, and too Muslim to be fully accepted as American. That sense of not quite fitting in made the process of self-discovery and identity formation feel particularly complicated, especially during adolescence. And then 9/11 happened. It was a time of heightened fear, misunderstanding, and alienation for many Muslim Americans. For me, it intensified that internal conflict and pushed me further into self-reflection.
In high school, I took a psychology elective, and everything clicked. I became fascinated by how the human mind works, how we develop, and why people respond to life so differently. I couldn’t stop thinking about questions like: Why can one person go through trauma and come out resilient, while another may feel completely broken by it? That curiosity never left me.
I went on to study psychology in undergrad and later earned my master’s degree in social work. I worked in various settings, including college mental health, and gained valuable experience supporting individuals through some of the most vulnerable times in their lives. I loved the work, but I also grew increasingly disillusioned with the limitations of traditional systems—especially how often they failed to meet the needs of marginalized communities.
I always knew I wanted to build something of my own. About a year and a half ago, I took a leap of faith and started my private practice, Brave You Therapy. I specialize in treating eating disorders, anxiety, and depression, and offer both virtual sessions and walk-and-talk therapy. I also bring movement and creativity into the therapeutic space through improv and clown training, which have been transformative—not just personally, but professionally. These practices have taught me the value of presence, play, and emotional risk-taking. They’ve reminded me that healing doesn’t have to be heavy all the time. Sometimes, it looks like laughter, spontaneity, and finding your voice in unexpected ways.
Brave You Therapy is more than just a practice—it’s a space I created with the intention of honoring people’s stories, celebrating their bravery, and helping them reconnect with their worth. Whether through talk therapy, movement, or play, the goal is the same: to create space for healing that feels human, liberating, and deeply authentic.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Ha! Definitely not a smooth road—but I think the bumps and detours have only deepened my passion and clarified my purpose.
Early on, I questioned whether becoming a therapist was a selfish choice—was I just trying to heal parts of myself by helping others? It’s a fair question, and one that required a lot of self-reflection. I’ve learned how important it is to stay aware of your own wounds so they don’t cloud the work you’re doing. That awareness became even more important after a major setback—I was actually fired from my very first job in the field.
I was working at a group home, where driving clients was part of the role. One night, I stayed late to help by picking someone up from the police station. On the way there, I got a speeding ticket—and two days later, I was abruptly let go. No conversation, no warning—just “turn in your keys.” It wasn’t about my work ethic—I was literally doing a favor—but I was labeled a liability. It crushed my confidence. I couldn’t find another job for months and ended up on unemployment, working part-time jobs at a makeup store and a bridal boutique just to get by.
That season taught me hustle, humility, and resilience. I also began to notice how few BIPOC providers there were in the spaces I entered. Most of my workplaces were predominantly white, and I often felt a quiet loneliness—always aware I was “different.” I found myself being the voice for marginalized perspectives, which came with a lot of unspoken pressure. I was still figuring out who I was while also holding space for others to do the same.
The eating disorder field especially highlighted these inequities. Treatment is often inaccessible for marginalized communities—whether due to financial barriers, cultural stigma, or a lack of representation. Even gender plays a role; so much of the narrative is focused on white, female experiences, when we know disordered eating impacts people of all identities.
So no, the road hasn’t been smooth. But every twist has sharpened my understanding of why this work matters, and who I want to show up for.
We’ve been impressed with Brave You Therapy, but for folks who might not be as familiar, what can you share with them about what you do and what sets you apart from others?
Brave You Therapy is more than just a therapy practice—it’s a space rooted in authenticity, inclusivity, and healing through connection. As a therapist with multiple marginalized identities, I know how hard it can be to find a provider who gets it. I created Brave You Therapy to be that safe space for those who’ve often felt unseen, unheard, or like they didn’t quite belong—whether due to culture, race, gender, or lived experience.
What sets us apart is how we approach healing. Yes, therapy involves meaningful conversations, but I believe healing also lives in movement, laughter, creativity, and community. That’s why I offer unique services like improv therapy—a group experience that uses the principles of improvisation to build emotional resilience, self-expression, and connection—and walk and talk therapy, which brings the body into the healing process and allows clients to move through both their emotions and the world in real time.
I specialize in treating eating disorders, anxiety, and identity exploration, and I bring an affirming, strengths-based lens to all the work I do. I’m especially proud to offer a supportive space for BIPOC clients, first-gen individuals, and anyone navigating identity, belonging, and self-worth.
Outside of direct services, Brave You Therapy also functions as a resource hub. My blog offers tips on navigating mental health systems—like how to find the right therapist or understand diagnoses—and I actively maintain a resources page to help people access additional support. I believe in building a culture of care—where we look out for one another, share what we know, and extend help without expecting anything in return.
At its core, Brave You Therapy is about honoring your story, celebrating your strength, and creating pathways to healing that feel human, creative, and compassionate.
What do you like and dislike about the city?
I love Los Angeles. There’s something so special about the way this city holds space for both creativity and individuality. Every pocket of LA feels like its own little world, and as someone who thrives in creative community, I feel incredibly lucky to live in a place that celebrates art, expression, and innovation. Whether it’s an open mic, an underground show, or a hidden hiking trail—there’s always something new to discover. I honestly don’t think anyone can ever fully “know” LA, and that’s part of the magic.
As for what I like least—I’ll skip the easy answer of traffic (though, sure, it can be a pain), but I think the bigger issue is accessibility. I wish public transportation were cleaner, more efficient, and reached more areas across the city. LA has so much to offer, but not everyone can access it easily, and that’s a real loss.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.braveyoutherapy.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/braveyoutherapy?igsh=ejhrMWFiMTU4a202&utm_source=qr
