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What I Learned From Gay Conversion Therapy

Ms. Rodgers is a writer, speaker and advocate for L.G.B.T.Q. people in faith communities.

Credit...Illustration by Jeffrey Henson Scales, photograph by Chris Mellor/Lonely Planet Images, via Getty Images

On Saturday, a group of Christians will gather in Washington for the Freedom March, an event that organizers describe as “a celebration of freedom from homosexuality and transgenderism.” The march will feature speakers like Elizabeth Johnston, the woman behind the Activist Mommy, a right-wing Facebook page with over 500,000 followers. And it’s gaining attention because Luis Javier Ruiz, a survivor of the Pulse shooting in Orlando, Fla., in which Omar Matteen killed 49 people at a gay nightclub in 2015, will be in attendance.

In a Facebook post, Mr. Ruiz says: “I should have been number 50! Going through old pictures of the night of Pulse, I remember my struggles of perversion, heavy drinking to drown out everything and having promiscuous sex that led to H.I.V. My struggles were real! The enemy had its grip, and now God has taken me from that moment and has given me Christ Jesus.” If you go to the Freedom March’s Facebook page, you will see videos with over a million views from people with similar stories.

In the national conversation about conversion therapy, people often focus attention on the 10 states (plus Washington) that have banned the practice for minors. But these laws, and this conversation, address conversion therapy only as it’s practiced by mental health professionals with minors. That’s not where most conversion therapy is happening, though. I know, because I spent the better part of my 20s involved in it.

Most conversion therapy occurs not with mental health professionals but in conservative Christian communities. Numbers are hard to come by, because the communities usually don’t come out and say they’re doing conversion therapy; in fact, they’re often skeptical of therapy in general. Groups that help people “leave homosexuality” are usually nonprofit ministries, and the counseling is facilitated by pastors and lay leaders who are not trained professionals. These groups are protected by religious freedom laws, so laws banning conversion therapy for minors do not apply to them.

The numbers of minors exposed to some form of conversion therapy is already staggering: In January, the Williams Institute at the University of California, Los Angeles, School of Law released a report that estimates that 57,000 youths between 13 and 17 will receive conversion therapy from religious advisers before the age of 18 and 20,000 will receive conversion therapy from a licensed mental health professional before the age of 18 in the 40 states that still allow it.

These communities will urge countless more adults to take a similar path. And while adults have the power to leave or remain in those communities, my heart still goes out to them. They face intense pressure to rid themselves of desires that research has shown will never go away.

I was taken to an “ex-gay” organization when I came out at the age of 17, and I spent almost 10 years involved in a member ministry of Exodus International, an umbrella organization that promoted conversion therapy and that shut down in 2013. From that experience, here are a few things to consider as we think about the future of conversion therapy in Christian communities.

First, it’s important to know that the people in conversion therapy don’t actually become straight. If you listen to their testimonies, they say they decided to “find their identity in Christ” rather than in their sexuality. They show pictures of themselves flouting stereotypical gender norms in “before” pictures and wearing clothes that fit within those norms in “after” pictures. They try not to engage in sex with people of the same gender, and some even date and marry people of the opposite sex. But very few in the videos say their attractions changed.

I attended several of my gay friends’ weddings to people of the opposite sex, and I sat across from them years later when they grieved over the end of their marriage. They might have changed the way they identified, but they felt a longing for intimacy with someone of the same sex that simply could not be met by their spouses. Some white-knuckled their way through the rest of their lives in these marriages, often with secret hookups that left them deeply ashamed, sometimes suicidal. Others eventually ended their marriages, and they despaired over the pain they caused their spouses and children.

These stories never show up in the short videos on ex-gay ministries’ websites. Ex-gay organizations create emotional short films with earnest young people who talk about hope and redemption, and then they quietly remove the videos when these very same people come out years later with the truth about themselves that they tried to suppress. In fact, that’s what happened to me.

Equally important, the narrative that people find “freedom from homosexuality through Jesus” fails to acknowledge the existence of the thousands of people who identify as L.G.B.T.Q. Christians. Sexual and gender minorities do not have to choose between their faith and queerness: Both parts of their complex identities belong, and the two actually inform each other. I’m engaged to a woman named Amanda Hite, and our shared passion for Jesus is central to our relationship.

In addition to the countless Christian denominations that affirm the beauty of same-sex relationships, there are also organizations like The Reformation Project teaching a message of inclusion in conservative Christian communities. They were moved to support same-sex relationships because of their understanding of Scripture. While many conservative Christians actively work against the flourishing of L.G.B.T.Q. people, they don’t represent all Christians.

I feel compassion for the people who will attend the Freedom March on Saturday. The videos on their Facebook page feature young people who say they left a lifestyle of anonymous sex, drug addiction and despair. But I have a lot of L.G.B.T.Q. friends, and I don’t know any who would describe their lives in that way. My community comprises queer pastors, psychologists, professors and entrepreneurs. Some of them are married, some are celibate, many are sober, and all of them are extraordinary human beings.

I can’t help wondering whether the young people in the videos found themselves in destructive cycles because of the shame they carried from the teaching they heard growing up. It’s hard for me to believe they would seek to rid themselves of their God-given desire to love someone of the same sex if it weren’t for the leaders in their communities who fail to consider the possibility that they’re wrong about the value and dignity of L.G.B.T.Q. people made in the image of God.

As several Christian leaders have already said: If the gospel someone preaches is not good news for the marginalized — for people of color, those with disabilities, immigrants and L.G.B.T.Q. people — then it’s not good news for anyone. The message the organizers of the Freedom March preach is certainly not good news for people like me. But I have found the Gospel of Jesus — the one who drew near to the outcasts and touched the despised with his own hands — to be very good news to me as a lesbian Christian. I want those attending the Freedom March to know this good news is for them, too.

Julie Rodgers (@Julie_rodgers) is a writer, speaker and advocate for L.G.B.T.Q. people in faith communities.

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