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.