After a break, the Bubble&Squeak podcast is back in action with two new episodes. One is serious, a reading of an excerpt of Where Bells Begin, a book of poetry by tessa micaela. The other is saucy including an interview with sexologist Dr. Jallen Rix and some lost recording that maybe needed to stay lost.
Poet tessa micaela reads an extended excerpt from their book of poetry entitled where bells begin. tessa and I collaborated on this audio treatment of their poem. After conversing then recording tessa reading, I collected sounds, mostly in wild parts of South Africa and in the town of Waterval Boven in Mpumalanga province.
I mixed these sounds with tessa’s reading. You will hear a variety of birds and other wild and domesticated animals. where bells begin immerses the reader and listener into a world that is both foreign and familiar. The main character, who simply goes by the single letter, O, walks through this world, interacts with it, is ignored by it, and endures in it.
The only piece of music in this audio treatment is the bass track of Christoffer Moe Ditlevsen’s song Never Forget. The episode ends with the track Dreamaway by Dreem and is available on Epidemicmusic.com
For the best experience, I suggest you use headphones or ear buds as you listen to this audio treatment of tessa micaela’s where bells begin.
Tessa Micaela is the author of where bells begin (Rescue Press, November 2019), there are boxes and there is wanting (Trembling Pillow Press, 2016), and the chapbook Crude Matter (ypolita press, 2016). Tessa writes poems, essays and letters, some of which have appeared in jubilat, ELDERLY, Make/shift, and Dusie. Tessa was born and raised on the Lenni-Lenape land of Philadelphia, and resides on the unceded Abenaki land of central Vermont. Tessa is a midwife, a clinical and community herbalist, care-worker and educator. More information can be found at tessamicaela.com and moonrootmedicinals.com.
Seventeen. That number is pretty significant in my life.
I was born on February 17th at 17:20
I spent 17 years trapped in a foolish and dangerous quest to de-gay myself through conversion therapy.
After I finally came out, I created a comedy, Doin’ Time in the Homo No Halfway House. I premiered the play on February 17th, 2003 at Holy Trinity Church in Memphis, TN
Yesterday marks 17 years since I first performed Homo No Mo.
Although I retired the Homo No Mo play in 2008, I have continued to perform the opening scene (and will feature it in the next episode of Bubble&Squeak.)
Reaching this anniversary though feels significant, especially as I have begun to transition my work away from live performances to radio and podcast production. Just today I started working with a new client for a podcast to accompany a quarterly magazine.
In those 17 years since I first performed Homo No Mo, I met extraordinary people–ex-gay survivors like Christine Bakke, Jacob Wilson, Alex and Noa, Daniel Gonzales, Anthony Venn-Brown, Jeremy Marks, Steven Fales, Darlene Bogle, Jallen Rix, and many more in the USA, Canada, the UK, Sweden, Ecuador, Malta, and South Africa.
Jacob Wilson, ex-gay survivor outside NARTH Conference
I am grateful for the many people who stood up and told their stories, who bore witness to the dreadful harm they experienced. I feel gratitude for the wives of ex-gay survivors like Carol Bolz and the many allies like Michael Airhart, Bruce Garrett, and Wayne Besen.
As someone who experienced trauma and is surviving it, I understood there was a time to move on to other work that was not directly related to my own story. That history though–both the trauma and the overcoming–are essential to my life today, and still comes up in my work around climate change and queer Bible scholarship. Last year I connected my wacky conversion therapy sordid past with my climate work today. I wrote an essay, Butt Demons and Climate Denial for MeetingHouseXYZ.
More and more though that conversion therapy past and the ways I addressed it through art and activism are a biographical footnote. Stil, I know I could never be doing the work I do today if it weren’t for the many lessons I learned through Doin’ Time speaking out about conversion therapy.
Many thanks to everyone who booked a performance, brought me to your campus or church, purchased a DVD, showed the movie to your group, and contacted me to share my story in the media. I am grateful for the Quakers who provided the moral support I needed to step up and tell my story. Oh, I especially love it when someone comes up to me quoting one of the lines in the show.
The motion picture, Boy Erased, premieres in the USA today. It tells the true story of a young gay man, Garrard Conley and the complex relationship with his fundamentalist Christian parents before and after Garrard spent two weeks in the Love in Action ex-gay conversion therapy camp in Memphis, TN. The film is based on the Boy Erased memoir Garrard published in 2016. With academy award star power behind it, Boy Erased has a good chance of being seen by lots of people. From those told me about the premiere, I hear good things, and I have read reviews of moving performances by Nicole Kidman, Russel Crowe, and Lucas Hedges.
People who want to dig deeper into Garrard’s story and into stories about conversion therapy, there are lots of options.
UnErased–The History of Conversion Therapy in America
This is a brand new podcast series that aired today alongside of the Boy Erased film. The first episode gives Garrard a chance to share some of his story beyond what the film shows, and it introduces listeners to the Love in Action program the book and film feature. I speak a little bit about my own time in Love in Action. Jad Abumrad from RadioLab hosts the show and along with his team produced it. You can listen to UnErased wherever you get podcasts.
The Miseducation of Cameron Post
This film came out earlier this year and won top prize at Sundance. Like Boy Erased, this is the story about a teen forced to attend a conversion therapy camp. Chloë Grace Moretz plays Cameron and powerfully portrays her journey into conversion therapy and out. It is beautifully shot and extraordinarily moving. Much of conversion therapy has focused on cisgender gay men, the number one target of these Protestant Christian facilities, so it is refreshing to see this world through Cameron’s eyes.
Beyond Ex-Gay Website
This website was created by ex-gay survivors for ex-gay survivors–those people who went through conversion therapy and survived it to go on to pursue a new life out and proud. It includes personal stories, art work, articles, a survey of ex-gay survivors, and even apologies from former ex-gay leaders, who in addition to trying to cure others, also felt coerced to change their own sexuality and gender differences. If you have gone through conversion therapy, this site might be helpful to you.
Ex-Gay No Way: Survival and Recovery from Religious Abuse
This Lambda award nominated book by fellow ex-gay survivor, Jallen Rix, not only highlights the horrendous effects of conversion therapy, it also provides insights into recovering from these experiences. As a train sexologist, Jallen provides a fresh perspective on finding a new life after conversion therapy.
Offering a detailed comparison of the ex-gay world and the phenomenon known as Religious Abuse, this manual shares a personal journey through the hopeless mistreatment and manipulative system of ex-gay ministries and the recovery process involved in regaining strength, acceptance, and self-worth.
Putting Lesbians in Their Place: Deconstructing Ex-Gay Discourses of Female Homosexuality in a Global Context (pdf)
Dr. Christine M Robinson at James Madison University along with Sue E. Spivey have done more academic research into conversion therapy than anyone else I know. Many of their articles appeared in academic journals, so are difficult to read unless you have access to these types of journals, but one of the most important ones they wrote is about the experience of women in ex-gay ministries and conversion therapy programs. Putting Lesbians in Their Place: Deconstructing Ex-Gay … highlights how the world of conversion therapy has been a boy’s club for a very long time and unmasks the often overlooked fact that these program exist to help gay men regain lost power and privilege because of their sexual orientation and gender differences. It operates as an anti-fem space.
‘Ex-Gay’ Survivors Go On-Line–Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide
OVER THE PAST EIGHT YEARS, new voices have entered the public discourse over anti-gay ideologies. One of the loudest and most hostile toward us is the “ex-gay” movement, which attempts to de-homosexualize homosexuals under the pretext of saving souls in the name of Jesus. On the Internet and in the press, we are increasingly hearing the stories of ex-gay survivors, people who attempted and failed to alter their sexual orientation through programs such as Exodus. Although these survivors have been around pretty much from the moment the faith-based movement launched itself in the early 1970’s, it is through the Internet that these former consumers of ex-gay theories and treatments have been able to connect with each other and speak out. In so doing, they have rerouted the media and refocused the ex-gay debate.
This is What Love in Action Looks Like (documentary film)
Morgan Jon Fox directed and edited this award-winning documentary about the Love in Action program. It centers on the true story of a 16 year old, Zack Stark, who is forced to attend the new Refuge program for teens. In response, Zack’s friends rose up in loving protest and helped shut the place down. I especially love the 2010 extended trailer for the film. It is a condensed version of the final product. It always makes me tear up at the end.
What is missing from this list is any resource about transgender and gender non-binary people who experienced and survived conversion therapy. According to a study Garrard references on his blog, “over 700,000 Americans have been subjected to conversion therapy and over 20,000 Americans are currently affected by this abusive practice.” What is striking is how many of those people are transgender and gender non-binary.
But we also want to share even more important message, especially in light of the current administration’s proposed idea of limiting gender classifications and therefore of erasing trans lives: that “trans people are twice as likely as LGB people to be subjected to conversion therapy, which substantially increases the risk for suicide” (Trans Lifeline).
In the past few weeks, both the Trevor Project and Trans Lifeline have received four times the normal call rate, with a significant increase in new calls. As we celebrate Boy Erased, “we also need to redouble our efforts to fight for the most vulnerable members of the community it portrays” (Trans Lifeline).
What about you? What resources would you like to add to this list?
It was a Halloween Day back in the late 1980’s in New York City. I was in my early 20’s and it was weird time in my life when I was desperately trying NOT to be gay while living in NYC (I know, right!) Once again I found myself ambling into Greenwich Village, the gay epicenter of the East Coast.
I turned the corner and there was Diana Ross! Actually two Diana Rosses. Then there was a group of life-size Chinese Take-Out rushing by. Then I saw the mob, the vast colorful Greenwich Village Halloween Parade. Floating through the crowd with full-blown tiara and wand was Glinda, the Good Witch on rollerblades. I knew then that by the end of the day I would have to repent.
That was my life. Lots of repentance. While it kept falling off, the costume I tried to pull of was of a straight guy. I aspired to be a butch, masculine, gender-normative, straight American Evangelical man of God with Republican Conservative family values, but like I often failed to keep myself from sex with other guys, I never passed as “straight-acting.”
Then after 15 years of trying to straighten myself out, I decided to get serious about my quest to be hetero. I entered the Love in Action program, a residency facility in Memphis, TN that promised to “help men find freedom from Homosexuality through Jesus Christ.” So they crammed all of us struggling homosexuals into a place we called The Homo No Mo Halfway House.
I have drawn out lots of comedy from this wacky experience of trying to cure my gayness and protect my anus (particularly during the terrifying HIV/AIDS Crisis which was first known as GRID–The Gay Related Immune Deficiency.) It was all so ridiculous and traumatic.
But the Love in Action residency stood out as the most traumatic event–more so than even the three exorcisms I endure. It was its own version of Kimmy Schimdt‘s bunker experience. The Homo No Mo Halfway House was a house of terrors and psychological torture. The only way many of us were able to survive was through humor. In fact, once I left that place and finally came out gay, I needed therapy, really good therapy to undo the damage. And I needed comedy. That’s why I wrote the play, Doin’ Time in the Homo No Mo Halfway House. Something so ridiculous and dangerous needs comedy to tease it out.
So on this Halloween I am considering fairy wings as I open the door to the hoards of candy fiends. And if you really want a fright (and a laugh) stream and scream along to Doin’ Time in the Homo No Mo Halfway House.
I have written an essay for the next edition of The Porch. It is about storytelling and how it is sometimes difficult to figure out the best way to tell a story.
In talking about my own bizarre, emotional, and sometimes confusing 17 year experience in conversion therapy, I believe the most emotionally honest storytelling I did was through the comic play I performed. I played eight different characters, and I did not appear as myself on stage until the very end.
For the essay, watched part of the film version of the play. I had forgotten all about the penultimate monologue when Chad talks about his brother Tad and their childhood visits to the small, tired, old zoo near their home. They told stories about all of the animals in the cages creating tales of how they got there. At the last cage Tad would always say they should sneak back into the zoo that night tolet all the zoo animals out of the cages. “And wouldn’t the zookeeper be mad about that!”
I always cried onstage at that point; those were my real tears. Although it was fiction, that was my real story.
And now? We have a new president with vice president who promotes gay conversion therapy and a Republican party platform that endorsed it. So what is an ex-gay survivor to do?
Perhaps I anticipated this. Back in May when creating my newest show, Everything is Connected–An Evening of Stories, most weird, many true, I decided to have a section about the ex-gay movement. I wanted to look at the lure of white male power and privilege that fed into the desire to de-gay myself for Jesus. I wanted to highlight the sexism and anti-fem attitudes in the churches where I tried to fit in. There were lots of other factors, but this idea of being “normal” was potent at the time.
I wrote about it this week in the Huffington Post. I reflected on the early 80’s, a period in history that reminds me a lot of where we are at politically right now. There were strong forces pressuring me to conform and to resist anything that wasn’t masculine and straight.
Beyond the methods, what I find more curious though arethe motivations that held me to this futile and ultimately damaging ex-gay path.
Literally coming out of the closet in my new place on Watauga Street in Memphis, 1999
Fear had a lot to do with it. I felt so much fear about the consequences of coming out gay. I felt terrified I would lose things that were precious to me: my parents’ love and support, society’s approval, physical safety, job opportunities, the possibility of having children, respect, membership in the church I loved, the love of God, and eternal salvation. I also feared for my life. HIV/AIDS had a 100% fatality rate, and at first people were unsure how it was transmitted. I lived in terror that I would get AIDS, die a horrible death rejected by my family, then spend an eternity of punishment in hell. That was a lot for a teenager to bear. So I caved under the pressure of it all.
Along with all those fears was another. In a world where rich, white, Anglo-Saxon straight, heterosexual masculine Protestant males ran everything, I was a gay, Roman-Catholic, Italian-American sissy boy from a working class family. I felt the fear of being powerless in a world that was so unlike me. In reaction to these fears I attempted to assimilate. I became a born-again Christian, enrolled in a conservative Christian college, and determined to decimate my gayness. Having felt the cabin pressure of power and privilege drop, I scrambled to win back as much as I could.
I recently sat down with Jon Watts over at Quaker Speak. He creates wonderful videos about Quaker life and practice. They are all so thoughtful and insightful. A recent one featured George Lakey focused on non-violent responses to terrorism. I have watched it three times already.
I love the series and watch all of the videos, so you would think I’d be thrilled when Jon contacted me and asked if he could film me. I wasn’t. I feel like such an oddball Quaker, like in Sesame Street when they sang, “One of these Things is Not Like the Others.”
My form of queer performance art goes down well with Quakers, but I did not think that it was a good fit for this sober, reflective wonderful web series.
In fact, the first time we attempted to film an interview, I had a dreadful cold and could only talk in a deep wet voice that sounded like a cross between Harvey Fierstein and Bea Arthur put through an audio filter on the frog setting.
The Reluctant Performance Artist
We tried again. Jon really wanted me to perform some of my monologues from my shows, but I resisted. Maybe because I like to be in control of my theater and to perform it in front of a live audience. While the content of shows may not change from performance to performance, each one is tailor-made for an audience. There is something extra special about the live presentation that can’t be captured on video.
So in our interview I only answered his questions and kept my characters and monologues to myself. He then asked permission to view my autobiographical play about my ex-gay experiences. It is something I have long ago retired and only now perform one short scene from it. It made sense to me that he go back and view it and see if it can be part of the interview.
For the Quaker Speak video Jon asked me lots of questions about my years trying to de-gay myself through all sorts of conversion therapy programs and ex-gay Christian ministries.
He was especially interested in how I survived. Ah, the role of Quakers in my life along with theater helped bring me back to like. I mention Diane Weinholtz in Hartford, CT, an out and proud Quaker who first told me about the Quaker meeting and worship. Thank goodness she did because I was desperate for a spiritual home even as I was completely unsure of my faith.
Recovery from trauma takes time. Sharing our stories can be liberating. It can also traumatize us anew. I find I speak less and less about my conversion therapy experience, but I do recognize the importance of the story and especially the lessons I learned in unpacking it.
Zack spoke with both Levin and Unger about the experiences of coming out and speaking out against the damaging treatment they received. Like many ex-gay survivors, it was not a smooth and easy road. It takes work to undo the damage.
“It was really really hard for me to adjust to general life,” Unger explained, noting that he struggled with major depression and anxiety. “JONAH constantly put in our heads that everybody hates the gays, the gay lifestyle is terrible, you’re setting yourself up for a miserable life.” Growing up in a conservative Orthodox Jewish community, he’d been exposed to such messages much of his life before his year with JONAH reinforced it even more intensely. “It sticks with you.”
Unger vividly recalls struggling with simple everyday experiences in the immediate aftermath. “I remember being on the subway after JONAH and thinking — neurotically — how everyone was looking at me and talking about me and thinking about what kind of a faggot I am. That’s just the word that was in my head. It was hard.” Very expensive therapy was required to help him work through the anxiety, depression, and haunting voices he dealt with on a daily basis.
Levin’s experience was quite different:
When Levin did finally allow himself to identify as gay, it made a huge difference. “I drew so much power from coming out,” he recalled. “Once I came out I was able to stop focusing on who I’m attracted to and start paying more attention to being abused and things I experienced at school.” Unfortunately, dealing with the abuse of his past, including sexual abuse by his cousin, would create many new obstacles for him moving forward.
But coming out can open a can of worms. The article goes on to talk about these two men entering the world of gay dating and the complications of shedding an old identity and developing a new one. I can attest to the years it can take to shed the skin of shame and doubt and homophobia that gets woven around a person who submits to gay conversion therapy. It is difficult and scary work.
Zack writes about the trial, the power and challenge of speaking out, and how these two men learned to live new lives. It is well worth the read for any ex-gay survivor and those who want to better understand the complications of coming out after trying to go ex-gay. It is not simple. In fact, I would like ever LGBTQ-friendly therapist to read this piece before working with ex-gay survivors. Thank you Zack for such a thorough and thoughtful piece.
Here is a blast from the past. In the 90’s I was deeply entrenched in the ex-gay movement in a futile attempt to de-gay myself. Two of those years I endured the Love in Action residential ex-gay program in Memphis, TN. There were plenty of weird experiences in a home jammed with gay dudes trying to straighten out their gayness together. We affectionately called this gay-to-straight boot camp, the Homo No Mo Halfway House.
Here is a true story about my first Christmas in the Homo No Mo Halfway House. So many bizarre rules and wacky responses from the staff. See for yourself what happens behind the doors of the world’s most ridiculous gay rehab.
For many years I lived as an Evangelical Christian who read the Bible as a flawless text that I took literally. In a world that seemed scary and chaotic, I found comfort in Bible verses, stories, and passages that explained the world around me and provided clear guidelines of how to live in it.
As a person who also happened to be gay, I also felt an extreme chronic conflict between my faith in Jesus and my sexual orientation. I heard and believed that I could not be both gay and Christian at the same time. I had to chose one over the other. The choice was easy for me–I wanted Jesus. I wanted to be as close to God as possible with nothing separating us. I was willing to count the cost and make whatever sacrifices necessary to either rid myself of my gay desires or hold them at bay, submitting them to God’s Spirit to tame or remove.
I spent nearly 20 years praying, reading the Bible, worshipping God daily, sometimes up to four hours a day. I memorized much of the Bible and delighted in the stories from both the Old and New Testaments. It wasn’t simply that I wanted to be straight, I wanted to be pure in heart, believing the promise: Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God. That is what I wanted more than anything in life. That and to continuously nuture the fruit of the Holy Spirit in my life.
Sadly I reaped a completely different harvest. Through the years I grew more and more depressed. I found I had less and less self-control. It actually seemed the more I suppressed my desires to be intimate with a man, the more extreme my attractions grew. I became more and more angry, anxious, self-hating, and confused. I even considered ending it all my distress was so great.
I had to admit that I was on the wrong path. “You shall know them by their fruits.” And the fruit revealed I was misguided. I coveted the straight life and masculinity with all of the acceptance and privileges that came with them. I was afraid of the consequences of being authentic.
When I finally came out gay, already in my thirties, I needed to figure out what to do with my faith, which was the most precious part of my life. I could not imagine living without being part of a faith community and without daily communion with God. I also trusted no one anymore when it came to the Bible. It seemed everyone had their own agenda both the gays and the anti-gays. The theology I read about gay people seemed so sloppy and skewed by strategic political messages.
So I had to take matters in my own hands. I needed to look at the text with fresh eyes, dispassionately, not to suit my needs but to simply understand it better. The good news is that I found all sorts of sexual minorities in the text and people who were very different from the other men and women around them. I ovelooked these people for many years in large part because I would not affirm people like that in my modern world, and I could not accept myself as one.
These days I talk a lot about the Bible. I tell lots of Bible stories, laying out what I have seen. I trust people who listen to apply what I share however they see fit. I’m interested in critical thinking and open handed interpretations of th Bible, readings that lead us to understand, accept, and love our neighbor as we do the same towards ourselves. Though a complicated series of writings, I have found that the Bible provides helpful on-ramps to self-acceptance and equality. Good News.