Joe’S
story
I demanded that my parents let me have conversion therapy
My conversion therapy experience started when I was 17. I’d just finished sixth form and I came across an organisation called JONAH advertised on a news website for the Jewish community. It was called ‘Jews Offering New Alternatives to Homosexuality’ when I started, and changed to ‘Jews Offering New Alternatives for Healing’ later on – I think to cover up in some way what they were doing.
When I saw the JONAH website I felt understood for the first time. Conversion therapy is based on stereotypical views of gay men, which happened to relate to me. I know now that I related so strongly to the website because I didn’t know anything else; I didn’t have any positive examples of gay people in my community. But at the time it felt like a saviour.
After reading the website, and feeling down about my sexuality, I decided to come out to my parents. I came out to them while insisting on going to conversion therapy so I could change. It was definitely confusing for them, and my dad in particular was against it, but I was adamant about going. Having only heard negative things said about my sexuality in the past, I had built up a huge amount of internal shame, along with the fear of being rejected by my community.
I got in touch with JONAH and met their CEO in London. He seemed like a caring man – he even hugged me when we said goodbye. He told me we all have an ideal self, and that conversion therapy is all about working towards our ideal self. I believed him.
I scrupulously analysed my actions, thoughts, looks and anything that could be perceived as gay.
After that I met my American conversion therapist online. At the time, I felt good about being in the sessions. It was sold as talking therapy. Thankfully, since it all took place online or over the phone, there was no opportunity for physical harm. Since I grew up as an Orthodox Jew, I didn’t have sexual experiences to speak of, so instead we talked about my desires. During my time in conversion therapy, I scrupulously analysed my actions, thoughts, looks and anything that could be perceived as gay.
Masturbating while thinking about men was of course strongly discouraged, so I would try to quit using porn or masturbating for months at a time. Whenever I masturbated or had sexual thoughts about a man, I would feel intense shame and worry that I was failing. I remember writing panicked emails to the conversion therapist with pleas for emergency sessions and reassurance. I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about this.
My therapist’s technique was all about making me feel more masculine. He thought if I started to feel like a man, the attraction to women would follow. If, to give a specific example, I described enjoying penetration, he would tell me, ‘That’s not gay’. Today, I agree with him on that – but the tragic thing is that he wasn’t trying to expand my view of sexuality, and what certain acts or preferences ‘mean’ – he was just trying to minimise what I saw as being gay.
I had therapy for about two and a half years. During that time, I spent a year in Israel studying at quite a modern Jewish seminary, which was common for people in my community. They condemned conversion therapy there, and I felt shocked and almost outraged by that, because I was so convinced that conversion therapy was the ‘correct’ option for me.
The quick answer to why I stopped going to my sessions is that they just weren’t working. The sessions became repetitive. When I wasn’t satisfied the answers, I’d be told the same thing again and again. I was getting frustrated. One positive thing that pulled me out of the cycle was seeing a YouTube video of three young Orthodox Jews speaking at their university in New York. It was the first time I saw someone like me, happy. I had a really visceral reaction to it – it was the uncomfortable realisation that there were other people like me, who were living well, but I didn’t know how to get to where they were.
At a certain point I thought I had become asexual, and this felt like an accomplishment.
When I think about how conversion therapy impacted my life, the thing that makes me most angry is that it stole my time. That was precious time I could have spent exploring my sexuality, learning about myself, and building my relationship with my parents. At a certain point I thought I had become asexual, and this felt like an accomplishment. Looking back, I think I had shut down in some way. I’d lost excitement and emotion and vigour for life.
Conversion therapy also took money from me – running into thousands of pounds over the years. Perhaps more importantly, it took away my self-confidence. I was left questioning myself and my judgement. Because if I had truly believed that conversion therapy was right, what else was I wrong about?
My therapy sessions put the shame and self-hatred I felt as a teenager into overdrive. I felt responsible for changing myself, and if I didn’t manage this, then I would have failed yet again. It also massively impacted my studies while I was at university. My mental health was up and down the whole time – I’d go through cycles of being OK and then breaking down and having to go home and recover. That continued long after my conversion therapy sessions ended.
Today, I’m much happier. I do activist work in the Jewish community, and through this I’ve met other people who’ve experienced conversion therapy. I know people whose experiences started at school, and others who have had electroconvulsive therapy in last few years. I want to add my voice to this conversation so that people know this is not a thing of the past – conversion therapy continues to thrive in our communities, and will do so until we have a legislative ban in place.
Take action to ban conversion therapy.
If you have been a victim of so-called conversion therapies, or are worried you’re at risk, please give the National Conversion Therapy Helpline a call or email.
Galop's expert LGBT+ team are here to support.
The National Conversion Therapy Helpline is open 10:00-16:00, Monday to Friday on 0800 130 3335, or you can email CThelp@galop.org.uk.