Lessons From My Gay Patient

(Excerpt from my memoir “Hearts Wide Open — Leaving Religion, Finding Faith” now available)

As a straight male, I did not awaken to the presence of same-sex love until the mid-1980s, during the peak of the HIV/AIDS crisis in the US.

The catastrophic disease surprised the nation, with few testing and treatment options available for most sexually active gay males.

As a psychologist new to clinical practice, I had no knowledge or experience with same-sex love and HIV challenges.

I was deeply steeped in the culture of evangelical Christianity, where ignorance and prejudice about people with different sexual orientations were rampant.

During the epidemic, Baptist minister and faith healer Pat Robertson attempted to cure those infected by AIDS through prayer while declaring publicly that same-sex love was depraved and evil.

At that time, I was in my early forties and had recently moved to California from the Pacific Northwest. In Oregon, I was a professor of psychology at a Baptist Seminary.

Although I was training others to become psychologists, I was still very much in the Baptist church fold — I was very familiar with prejudice against the LGBTQ community. In fact, I had been a Baptist minister myself in South Africa for five years.

During that tumultuous period, Jim (not his real name) came to see me as one of my first patients in California.

He had heard about me at his evangelical church. At the time, I had my feet in two worlds. One was in a progressive Episcopal church with an active ministry to AIDS patients and their families. The church also had a couple of gay pastors on its staff. My other foot was still in the evangelical community, where I was identified as a “Christian” psychologist.

Though I had never expressed my views on same-sex relationships, those who referred Christian patients to me assumed I was aligned with their dogmatic perspectives.

Their referrals from evangelical churches quickly became most of my caseload.

At our first meeting, Jim seemed defensive. Despite the air-conditioning, he was visibly perspiring as he entered my office and scanned the room for my credentials.

He stopped to stare at a dramatic Salvador Dali lithograph, “The Visceral Circle of the Cosmos,” that adorned my wall. One of my patients described it as a person spilling their guts. That was the last thing Jim seemed to want to do that day.

Typically, my patients gravitated towards the comfortable seating and sank into the couch. In contrast, Jim chose a straight-backed chair and perched himself on the edge of the seat. From his body language, it was clear we would have to navigate trust issues.

Although a new therapist, I knew not to directly confront a patient’s defenses. I sought to establish a safe space for my patients to explore sensitive or painful issues. I also knew that unconditional positive regard was a precondition for successful therapy.

Earlier that day, I had worked at a local psychiatric hospital. I’d had a busy day before Jim entered my office — I was fighting off weariness. Unlike other patients, Jim did not begin by telling me why he had come to see me, and I didn’t ask. I started by taking his history. I asked about his family, and he said he was happily married with two young children. It was then that I asked, “Why did you come for therapy?”

He said, “I came to see you because you head up a Christian clinic. People from my church recommended you.”

When I asked him why they recommended that he seek therapy, a dark cloud crossed Jim’s face. He started to hedge and reiterated what was going well, especially with his family. He continued this defensive dance for several minutes. Then abruptly, he asked, “What’s your position on gays? Are gays born that way, or do we have a choice?”

I thought to myself, This is a test. He said, “We.” Does that mean he’s gay?

I didn’t know how to affirm his sexuality because I didn’t understand his orientation — I was uneducated and ignorant. I avoided suggesting conversion therapy. I knew that the

American Psychological Association had recently cautioned against it as there was insufficient evidence to support that psychotherapy changed a person’s sexual orientation.

My past evangelical teaching had biased me to view same-sex attraction as “sinful,” but of late, I had been questioning the biblical position that homosexuality was sinful.

On the other hand, thinking of two males kissing or having sex made me cringe. Was that because it was wrong? Or was something amiss with me? I was confused.

Sitting across from Jim, I asked myself whether I should refer him to another therapist who was more skilled in dealing with gay men. Instead, I decided to hold off on the referral issue and dig deeper into Jim’s story.

I asked him, “What’s your theological position regarding a person’s sexual orientation?” I already sensed the answer. Jim came from a church community that attempted to change people from their same-sex orientation through prayer. After a long pause, he must have decided it was safe to reveal his story.

With tear-filled eyes, he spoke softly, in almost a whisper. He said, “I’m gay, and I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. Do I admit or suppress my feelings for men?” He paused, wiping away tears. The tears welled up again, and he continued speaking. “What about my family? If I go with my feelings toward men, will I lose my family? On the other hand, I’m tired of putting on a mask to survive.”

He looked at me helplessly and said, “My pastor goes on antigay rants from the pulpit. He makes me feel vile. He knows about my gay orientation. The only reason he doesn’t approach me directly is because I’m married to a woman. So I can’t talk to him anymore about being attracted to men. If I do, the church will prescribe that I go through their healing rituals. But I have a problem with that.”

“What interventions are those?” I asked.

“Oh, everything from exorcisms to the so-called healing of the inner child. And intensive periods of prayer — you know, pray the gay away! My gay friends told me about this: a prayer group meets with you alone to pray.”

“What do you think of this?” I said. “Do you think this would erase your attraction to men?”

“No! Gay friends in the church have secretly confessed to me that even after the church healing sessions, they never experienced the same sexual “whoosh” with females as they felt with men.

“I’m miserable. That’s why I’ve come for therapy. I’m a Christian. I love my family. I don’t want to lose my family or my church. Why won’t the feelings go away? Please, can you help me make those feelings go away?”

His appeal deeply troubled me. It was heartbreaking. He had revealed a fundamental truth about himself. As a straight male, I could love whom I loved. Why didn’t he have the right to love who he loved?

I wish I could have helped Jim, but I was still in the process of evolving. Patients like Jim helped me see the truth. I hope he is at peace and living his truth today.

Over the next several months, Jim’s church referred a few more gay men for treatment, but it wasn’t long before the pastor learned that I did not try to convert them.

The referrals stopped. In later years, after I’d clarified the natural diversity of human sexuality and the right to love who you loved, I referred my gay patients to gay-friendly churches, often with openly gay clergy, who affirmed them for their sexual orientation.

As for Jim, he soon decided to terminate therapy. Jim was one of my first teachers on my path toward fully affirming same-sex love.

Recently, I was reminded of Jim when I read an opinion piece in the New York Times, “As a Gay Man I’ll Never Be Normal” by Richard Morgan. Morgan wrote:

“Queerness was such a battle that all I wanted was peace. Every hill made me crave flatness. Every insult made me crave quiet. Every shove made me crave stillness. Every reminder of my different path made me yearn for a forgettable life.”

About ten years later, after moving to Northern California, Kris and I were enjoying some time off work, walking the streets of San Francisco. As we approached Market Street, the roads were jammed with people celebrating.

Suddenly, we realized we had landed in the middle of a Gay Pride parade.

With nowhere to move, we watched the parade pass by. It was my first gay pride parade. People were dressed in outrageous outfits, singing and dancing to music.

Standing in my khaki pants and white button-down shirt, I was fascinated but very uncomfortable — I’d entered another world where I did not know how to behave. As men wearing dresses passed by, blowing their horns and calling out to the cheering crowd, I was drawn to a large group of mothers.

They danced their way up the street with their arms around their adult male children, dancing in solidarity with them. I began to tear up. By then, I had a lot more experience — I had friends who were gay. I knew that when

they “came out,” they suffered rejection and hostility from their parents and friends, especially from my former tribe.

Today, many gay friends and associates later I ask myself “Where was my head in those early days?”

But in the end love is love.