another article written by gay christian, who had undergone change therapy..
part 1
August 11, 2005
inside reparative therapy
By Gayhealth.com
With reparative therapy now in the media spotlight, here's an inside look at one gay man's first-hand experience with an ex-gay program.
The mainstream media – including CNN's Paula Zahn and ABC's Diane Sawyer – are paying close attention to ex-gay programs like "Love in Action" due to the imminent release of teen Zach Stark from a facility in Tennessee. With reparative therapy – which both the American Medical Association and the American Psychiatric Association say does not work – now in the media spotlight, here's an inside look at one gay man's first-hand experience with an ex-gay program (to protect the identity of individuals connected to the story, he's asked to remain anonymous).
I came out at an ex-gay ministry meeting.
Featured on the cover of Newsweek in August 1998, John Paulk was board chair of the umbrella ex-gay Christian group Exodus International when he was ejected from the board in Oct 2000 - several weeks after he was photographed in a popular gay bar in Washington D.C. His defence was that his only intention was to use the bathroom.
You know, one of those groups (very similar to "Love in Action") that promise to help gays "recover" from their homosexuality and become "normal" again.
Of course, I've always felt normal. So what if I loved MGM musicals and knew every line in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, right? To me, that was normal. But I equated approval with oxygen, so I kept such things to myself for years. I played the nice guy – the funny, gregarious and likeable guy. But no one knew the real me. To survive, I censored my authentic self.
Now, of course, surrounded by my wonderful friends and the freedom of New York City, being out is no big deal. Today, I'm just another person, not a label or stereotype – something I only could fantasise about before. But I'd never actually shared my unusual coming out story with my friends until recently, and was unprepared for the tremors it caused. "You did what?" said my friend Sally, as wide-eyed and stunned as the rest when told the unsettling news. "No you di'int!"
But I did, Sally, I did. Telling my friends – and seeing the look of shock on their faces – brought the experience back into sharp focus. Now, inspired with the hope that my story might actually help others, and in response to the ridiculous media reports that programs like "Love in Action" can make you straight, I've decided to share it.
The year was 1992 – obviously pre-Will & Grace, Queer Eye and let's not forget Ellen. I was a 20-something self-styled hipster (or at least I like to think so) with a cool media job in a conservative city in Florida. I lived in a spacious house near the beach, traveled widely and had money in the bank. On paper, it was my dream, one I'd worked hard for.
I always knew I was gay, and as I got older it became more difficult to stay in the closet, without the love and support of people who really knew me. Each day brought a feeling of isolation, and I grew more unequivocally desperate. I was having anxiety attacks when I wasn't darkly depressed, my only salve being my fantasies – and Joni Mitchell. I was dying of loneliness. No wonder lesbian and gay folks are at a greater risk for depression and anxiety – according to numerous studies – not to mention suicide.
So why didn't I just move to New York City or San Francisco and come out, you ask? Even though I was suffering, I wasn't yet ready to give up the life I'd worked so hard to build. And why should I have to? But with no gay role model – someone who was out and maybe even proud (is that too much to ask?) – I was lost, and didn't realise how much harm I was doing to myself by hiding. Times were very different: George Michael was still pretending to be straight and Bush Sr. was still president. There were no circuit parties, gay gyms or hip vodka ads trumpeting a suitable gay existence.
So what better time to try an Episcopal church-sponsored ex-gay ministry, right? I really thought that the solution to my problem wasn't coming out, or moving, or finding new friends. I thought being straight would solve all of my problems. My therapist (a nice, albeit clueless woman who I chose from the yellow pages because she took my insurance) had actually suggested it.
Not only was there potential to get "fixed," but I was also drawn to the idea because an ex-gay group would be filled with, well, gay men, and at least I could talk honestly – even shed a tear – with people who would understand what I was going through. What sweet relief! But it would come at a major price.