The one where I went undercover and had lesbian conversion 'therapy'
Yes, really, in a Christian town in Colorado
I wrote this back in 2013, but pulled it from the magazine it was due to run in, because they wanted me to focus much more on gay men. I told the editor that my research was unique, in that no female journalist had ever been undercover in a racket that focusses on lesbians rather than gay men, but he was insistent it could not just be about women. I want to publish it now because, I hope, it will enable those who believe that conversion therapy for same sex attracted people is the opposite of talking therapies and support for young people struggling with their sex.
I am sitting in a Christian counselling centre in a small town in Colorado, US, writing the words, “I don’t want to be a lesbian anymore” on a piece of paper. “Good, Joanna, well done,” my therapist is saying, crouching over me.
My name is Julie Bindel and I have been an out-and-proud lesbian since I was 15. I came out in 1977 - in the bad old days when lesbians and gay men had no legal rights or protection from bigots - and despite then enduring, on occasion, horrific abuse, violence and prejudice, I am very happy with my sexuality.
I have long fought for gay rights and for the legal changes that protect us from discrimination, which is why I am undergoing so-called ‘conversion therapy’ to make me straight. I am here undercover in order to expose this deeply suspect practice.
My journey began back in the UK, in 2013, when I was researching material for a book on contemporary lesbian and gay society. I had heard about religious counsellors who claim to be able to change a person’s sexual orientation and became interested in how they operate. The majority only deal with men, but I came across Janelle Hallman & Associates in Denver. Janelle is regarded by the ex-gay movement as the expert in female same-sex attraction, having written a book entitled The Heart of Female Same-Sex Attraction.
I emailed JH&A explaining that I was seeking therapy to address my homosexuality and that I was visiting Denver in the New Year to stay with an old friend. My persona was based on Mary, whom I had met in a gay rights campaigning group. She had been rejected by her religious parents and her church when she was discovered to be a lesbian, in her late teens. For years Mary battled with depression and anxiety as a result of the appalling bigotry she endured. Her instinct was to seek help to suppress her love of and attraction to women, in order to win back the love of her family and God. But after years of failed therapy and misery, Mary finally found a church that welcomed gay congregants and rebuilt her relationship with her parents. She now lives happily with her long-term female partner.
For $125 for a 50-minute session on Skype, I could begin straight away. I spoke twice to my new therapist Kelley, a homely-looking, friendly woman, about my family background and my expectations for change. I told her I wanted to stop being gay and become reconciled with my family and the church.
Arriving in Denver I meet Christine Bakke-O’Neil, who runs a campaign called BeyondExGay.com.
Christine, who describes herself as an ‘ex ex-gay’, grew up in a fundamentalist Christian family and was not able to accept her own attraction to women.
When Christine graduated and left college to attend university, she came out as a lesbian. Her family were upset and unsupportive, and her Christian peers rejected her.
In 1998, indoctrinated by the ex-gay movement’s slogan, “Change is Possible!” Christine moved to Denver to take part in an ex-gay ministry. But after five years of exorcism, reparative therapy, and many hours at the altar, Christine accepted she was not going to change, and having met other ‘survivors’ of the ex-gay movement, came out of the closet once again.
Having told Christine the purpose of my visit to Denver I ask her advice about the type of questions to ask Kelley during therapy.
“Ask her if she thinks you can be a good Christian and still be gay, because they always dance around that and say, ‘We all sin’”, says Christine. “You will also be told that you are attracted to women who possess the qualities you are missing.”
“They are worried about people’s souls. They worry that the more being gay is accepted among people, the more they may reject their spirituality.”
Prior to travelling to Denver I was required by JH&A to fill in a number of forms and return them to Kelley. Some were about family background, and others clearly designed to assess me for risk of suicide and paranoid schizophrenia.
It is stated on the organisation’s website: “intensive therapy… is not recommended for any folks who have no local support”, and yet I made it clear to Kelley during therapy that if my gay friends were to discover I had undergone conversion therapy they would cut me off without hesitation. I told her that ‘Joanna’ was part of a House Church, but that she had no one-to-one friendships with any of its members. Dr Georgina Smith – a trauma specialist I ask to help me look over the JH&A literature – expresses concern at their willingness to take 'Joanna' on, since she is “obviously vulnerable, and away from any support from family or friends”.
I tracked down one woman who was forced into undergoing conversion therapy when she was sixteen. ‘Annie’ (not her real name) was brought up within the Pentecostal church. “My parents caught me kissing my best friend in our kitchen. My father, a religious maniac, became violent and told me he would get me ‘fixed’. The next thing I remember was the Pastor was screaming in my face for the Devil to leave me... it took me years to admit to myself that there was nothing wrong with being gay.”
Annie left home six months after the attempted exorcism, and never saw her parents again.
Prior to me leaving the UK, Kelly tells me that it would not be a good idea to see friends whilst I am in Colorado, or to do any sightseeing. “Prayer, and reflection, Joanna” she advises me. In my head I translate this to “gin and Netflix” as I nod, sagely.
At the counselling centre, Kelley is looking for evidence that I was sexually abused in childhood. When she fails to find any, she asks if my mother neglected me. She draws a baby and asks me why I thought it might cry, stating that babies need three things – “food, movement, and touch” – and that “if mom doesn't meet baby's needs, all is not well with the world”.
Despite my instance that my mother was never neglectful, Kelley maintains that she can sense in me “a deep sense of shame”. Part of me wants to break my cover and point out that this shame gay people struggle with is nothing but a product of bigots like her.
In another session, Kelley hands me some papers written by Janelle Hallman, outlining her theories about why women end up like me. What I read is deeply offensive. Hallman asserts that lesbianism itself – through “symbolic behaviours - such as nestling into each others' arms, suckling on breasts, dressing alike, daily multiple phone calls or contacts” - is simply a collection of symptoms of emotional dependency.
Can I change, I ask Kelley? “It’s a lot of work, I just want to let you know,” she says. “When a woman is truly in her own identity and can work through some of these wounds she can get to the point where she doesn’t need another woman to nurture her.”
The founder of conversion therapy is Joseph Nicolosi, a US-based Catholic therapist and the founder of the National Association for Research and Therapy of Homosexuality - the umbrella body to which all gay conversion therapists belong.
Nicolosi recommends that men should participate in sports, avoid activities considered of interest to homosexuals, such as art and opera, and avoid women unless it is for romantic contact. I meet Daniel Gonzales, a former patient of Nicolosi. Daniel put himself through treatment because he believed he could not be both Christian and gay.
“I was told my own sense of masculinity was broken,” says Daniel, “and that I was attracted to people who represent the things I was lacking.”
After a year and a half he realised the therapy was not working and gave it up. It took him at least another year before he could bear to have anything to do with other gay people. “The biggest tragedy was the loss of my faith,” says Daniel, “I had to purge myself of it in order to move on; it represented something too painful.”
According to Kelley, I must have been frightened of my father when I was a child, and that I now see all men as scary. She thinks I had gender confusion, detaching from the feminine which she sees as my 'natural self'. Kelley implies that I might be a lesbian because I did not have close female friends at school, despite the fact that I make it clear that I was only rejected at school when it was suspected I was a lesbian.
On Christine's recommendation, I press Kelley on whether one can be Christian and gay. As expected, her response is ambiguous; “I believe there are many good Christians who are gay, and who are kind of struggling with that very thing.”
In the final session, I begin asking Kelley a number of questions about whether I should access the type of therapy back home that would make me feel better about being a lesbian, rather than pursue a route that would end with me losing my identity and support network. At no time does Kelley suggest I should access counselling that would make me feel better about being gay, or refer me to one of the UK's many gay-friendly churches.
I tell Kelley that I have only ever felt romantic love and sexual attraction for women and have not ever considered an intimate relationship with a man.
Kelley tells me my lesbianism is simply a habit I have adopted. “If you have been touched and aroused by someone of the same sex then you say, 'That’s my arousal pattern'; wherever the tracks have been laid.”
On my return to the UK I email Kelley and tell her who I really am and what I was doing in Denver. Kelley admits she is shocked at my revelations but politely responds to my accusations about gay conversion therapy being ‘unethical’ and ‘damaging’.
“To refer Joanna to a “gay affirming therapist” would have been unconscionable and unethical since Joanna explicitly stated that she desired change. To ignore that desire would be to violate the fundamental principal of mental health counselling and to impose my viewpoint and ideology on Joanna.”
I also receive an email from Janelle Hallman, who seeks to explain her work: “The conflict between a person’s faith and sexual orientation can be considerable and, in and of itself, often creates serious psychological distress.”
This sort of therapy is becoming less popular in the UK because it has been exposed for what it is, but is growing in popularity in Africa, South America and Asia – worryingly, the very countries and regions where being gay is massively stigmatised. During my counselling – despite the fact that I was in character, and am normally confident in my sexual identity – I became depressed and anxious. We would begin each session with a relaxation exercise; I was told to clear my mind. Kelley would ask: “What would it look like if your body, your soul and your heart were healed?”. Several hours of being told I need fixing, despite there being nothing damaged, took its toll. I began to question whether there was something ‘broken’ in me that had caused me to go ‘off the rails’ and into lesbianism. I left Denver with a heavy heart, weeping for all those lesbians and gay men who find themselves embroiled in the conversion racket.