Jeremy’S story
I was an ‘ex-gay’ minister – ‘conversion therapy’ does not work
I was about 13 years old when I first realised I was gay, which would have been around 1965. Everybody in society, not just those at church, believed it was a revolting, shameful lifestyle. The Wolfenden Report, which recommended decriminalising some same-sex sexual relationships, had been published, but the law was yet to change. It was a very frightening time to discover you were gay. There was no option to live openly and be respected, and cohabiting with a partner was out of the question.
Growing up in that context, I wanted to become ‘normal’, rather than gay. I got involved at my local Baptist church, where the minister was clear that sex was for marriage between a man and a woman. However, there was no contempt in his teaching against homosexuality – it was viewed in the same way as heterosexual sex outside marriage, divorce, and remarriage. I found that reassuring, because I could even be considered commendable if I resisted my desires. And it’s important to note that I grew up at a time where duty was everything – you did what you believed was right over what you wanted to do.
Back then, many Christians believed that someone experiencing same-sex desire had already been abandoned by God. It was only very radical churches who decided to help gay people ‘manage’ life. Their goal was to support them towards the heterosexual desires which they believed were God-given and could be found within, with some work.
That’s why what we called ‘ex-gay ministry’ was so appealing. For the first time, we were free from shame. Embracing celibacy and trying to find your way out of homosexuality was seen as courageous. It’s hard to imagine today how that could have seemed like a supportive, rather than toxic, environment, but it was much less toxic than other churches. Crucially, it also meant you could meet other LGBT Christians, so it felt like a sanctuary and a haven. I’m still friends with a lot of those people 40 years on.
I started my own ex-gay ministry in 1988, after visiting an ex-gay group near San Francisco. There was an environment of total acceptance of LGBT people, including those who were HIV+, at a time when society was still very homophobic. It was clear to me that we needed to replicate that sort of upbeat, positive attitude in the UK, and that’s what I attempted with Courage. At the same time, the very nature of ex-gay ministries meant we still had to live with the idea that homosexuality was against God’s plan and that acting on our desires would lead to spiritual peril.
Many people entered into opposite-sex marriages, myself included.
Many people entered into opposite-sex marriages, myself included. We married with the understanding that we would be companions to each other. I told my wife that I may never be able to consummate the marriage, and we were both too naïve to understand that marriage without a sexual component can lead to a lot of unhappiness. I knew early in my marriage that I hadn’t changed – and, being quite cynical, I didn’t expect change to come. It was my sense of duty that carried me through. I grew close enough to my friends’ marriages to know that there were huge questions over their identities, too.
Over time, though, I noticed that the people coming to us for help and hope were becoming depressed and even suicidal.
I remember telling the congregation at a Courage meeting in 1995 to go home if they thought we could change their sexualities. Even then, I saw our function as providing support for each other in the face of a hostile church and society. Over time, though, I noticed that the people coming to us for help and hope were becoming depressed and even suicidal. It became clear that our teaching – that people must remain celibate, unless they really felt they were ready for heterosexual marriage – was harming people.
Another few years after that, I realised that the people who were doing well were the ones who had accepted their sexuality and found partners. They thrived with love in their lives. I had to recognise we had been wrong the entire time, even if we acted with the best intentions. Openly LGBT people were flourishing in the way I thought we would have, if we’d managed to change.
When, in 1999, we changed tack and started to welcome openly LGBT people who had partners, I was deemed a heretic by the Christian world. But while some people left Courage in disgust, others came back to us because we were finally voicing what they had suspected the whole time.
Today, my advice for people wanting to change is, firstly, that anything professing to change someone’s sexuality or gender identity is a con. Secondly, being your authentic self will never be sinful.
Unsurprisingly, all of this also led to significant changes in my personal life. After 21 years of marriage, my wife and I separated in 2012, and divorced in January 2020. Happily, I walked her down the aisle and ‘gave her away’ to her new husband later that year. Even more happily, only two months later I married my partner of seven years at our local United Reformed Church, with my wife being a witness. I will always be grateful that the story of our marriage has had such a wonderful ending. I know that many others haven’t been so fortunate.
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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.
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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.