Conversion therapy, once thought to be fading, is quietly resurging in new, subtle forms, continuing to inflict significant harm on LGBTQ+ individuals when they are most vulnerable. Andrew Pledger’s experience, described in a recent feature, illustrates the trauma hidden behind the closed doors of private counselling sessions often disguised as spiritual or therapeutic care. Pledger, a student at a private evangelical university, sought help for his depression but ended up subjected to a session aimed not at healing but at changing his sexual orientation—a practice broadly discredited by all major medical bodies due to its links to increased depression and suicide risk among young people.
Survivors recount how conversion therapy is seldom labelled as such, stripping away the clarity of its destructive intent. Rocky Tishma, who was 16 when his Mormon church offered ‘help’ after a suicide attempt, remembers being warned he would ‘get AIDS and die alone’ if he lived openly as queer. Curtis Lopez-Galloway describes being sent to Christian counsellors with instructions to adopt a more ‘masculine persona’ and study women to ‘figure out what types’ he should find attractive. These coercive tactics are often veiled as pastoral guidance or psychological support, perpetuating harm without transparent acknowledgment.
The movement’s own founders have renounced the practice. John Smid, Randy Scobey, and Bill Prickett—formerly leaders in prominent ex-gay ministries—have admitted that no one was truly ‘cured’ and expressed remorse for the damage caused. Their rueful confessions underscore the falsehood and cruelty at the heart of conversion therapy and highlight the persistence of these harmful ideologies in some religious communities and political agendas today.
Despite bans in 20 U.S. states and local jurisdictions, conservative political shifts have emboldened proponents of conversion therapy. Efforts led by Republican groups have overturned bans, framing restrictions as violations of parental rights and free speech. A pending Supreme Court case challenging Colorado’s prohibition on conversion therapy for minors threatens to unravel protections nationwide. Meanwhile, organisations like the Trevor Project report the practice continues unabated in 48 states, often operating under different labels or through informal channels.
Survivors often face long-lasting trauma. Tishma’s story of excommunication and substance abuse illustrates how deeply conversion therapy scars lives. Yet from this pain, new paths to healing have emerged. Tishma now works as a psychotherapist assisting other survivors, while Lopez-Galloway founded the Conversion Therapy Survivor Network, which offers solidarity, support, and education to those affected. This network is a crucial space where survivors can share their stories and begin recovery—a process many experts affirm requires tailored resources acknowledging the unique wounds conversion therapy inflicts.
The psychological community broadly condemns conversion therapy. The American Medical Association, among others, classifies it as harmful, and recent studies reveal that survivors suffer enduring shame, self-hatred, and mental health challenges. Research led by LGBTQ2S+ survivors highlights significant barriers to recovery, demanding more comprehensive support to help survivors move from mere survival toward thriving. Initiatives like the Southern Poverty Law Center and Truth Wins Out campaigns also strive to raise awareness and advocate for stronger legal protections.
Documentary films such as Netflix’s 2021 Pray Away further expose conversion therapy’s continuing legacy within conservative religious groups, featuring voices of former leaders who now repudiate their past roles and share the trauma endured by countless individuals. These stories amplify the urgent need for public education and legislative action to prevent new victims and support survivors.
In Australia and elsewhere, the fight against conversion therapy persists, often propelled by the courageous testimonies of those who lived through the ordeal. Kate McCobb’s eight-year experience with conversion therapy demonstrates how insidious these practices can be—masquerading as therapy, yet rooted in pathologising LGBTQ identity. Her recovery, aided by knowledgeable and affirming therapists, underscores the importance of informed, compassionate mental health care for survivors.
Source: Noah Wire Services
