[MUSIC PLAYING]
SANDERS KLEINFELD: For those
who have not read the book
or seen the movie yet, you
went to conversion therapy.
GARRARD CONLEY: I'm
not there anymore.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
And you're still gay.
GARRARD CONLEY: I am
very much gay, sorry.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: Yes.
GARRARD CONLEY: Not as gay
as those shoes, though,
if you can see those things.
Soon to be, though.
I'm going to buy those shoes.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: Reading
that the scenes from conversion
therapy, were pretty
harrowing, I think.
And what was
interesting to me is,
I don't think I've ever really
seen a lot of portrayals
in pop culture of conversion
therapy that actually show it,
what it really is.
I think that there's a lot
of ironic, satirical content.
GARRARD CONLEY: Yes.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: I remember
as a college student,
there was this
cult movie called,
"But I'm a Cheerleader."
GARRARD CONLEY: "But
I'm a Cheerleader,"
shake your heads
if you've seen it.
Yeah, you should
watch it, it's funny.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: Which sort
of turns into a campy satire.
And I think really allows
people to sort of gloss over
that this is really
serious, that these
are real teenagers who are
going through real anguish.
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
And I was wondering
if you could talk a little
bit about your experience,
and really explain
what that's like.
GARRARD CONLEY: Well, there
was a lot of pushback.
I mean, there was also
like a "South Park" episode
about conversion therapy.
There was something
else in popular culture.
Oh, yeah, like an "SNL" skit,
where like, I think it was--
I can't remember who was in it.
But anyway, it's always been
satirical in pop culture.
And even I was guilty
of brushing over
the subject really quickly.
Like, I would say, hey, I
went to conversion therapy.
It didn't work.
The end.
That was actually
how I sold my book.
I was pitching to my
agent, and I said that.
And she was like, yes, send
me some pages and let's see.
But I think that flippant
attitude protects us
in many ways, because to
really look back at the past
and reposition yourself
as that kid who
is really vulnerable to
the kinds of brainwashing
in conversion therapy,
it's really hard.
And it's not, you know, it's not
fun, it's not sexy to do that.
And it was something
that I got pushback
on when I submitted my
draft, from a few people,
and they said, you know,
this feels really depressing.
And I tried throughout
the book to really leaven
that with some beauty
and with an attention
to sentences and an attention
to the kinds of beauty
that was available
to me in Arkansas.
And you know, it's a
very beautiful state,
if you just ignore a
lot of other things.
And like Little Rock
is very interesting.
And their pockets of liberalism.
And I was also very careful
not to stereotype the South.
But it was a lot of
tricky territory,
because there hadn't been a real
definitive account, or at least
a literary definitive account,
of this type of therapy.
And the question becomes how
do you make conversion therapy,
with it's like constant
torture, something
that feels like a story?
Because there seems
to be no story there.
Right?
The story seems to
be, hey, this kid
got sent to conversion therapy.
It sucked.
He's no longer there.
The end, right?
That's what you see
whenever you see
mini testimonies of
conversion therapy survivors.
So I knew from
the very beginning
that I had to make it dynamic.
And the only way
to make it dynamic
is to make the reader
believe that I believed
in God at that time, that
I believed in my family,
and that I believed
that I could be
cured at least on some level.
And once you enter into that
experience, like truly enter
into it, through the text,
hopefully, the stakes
become much larger, because
it suddenly feels alive again.
And it was sort of unfortunate
to have to write that book.
Because you're almost
brainwashing people along
with you through the ride.
Like, imagine that this is not
just completely absurd to you.
Imagine that you grow up
in this situation where
this was the norm.
Conversion therapy
is easy to mock.
You can say, like,
wow, they place
people dealing with
bestiality beside people
dealing with pedophilia
and homosexuality.
And that's crazy, right?
But how many of you
have heard at some point
in your childhoods or growing
up someone say, like, well,
if we allow marriage
equality, then they'll start
marrying animals, right?
There's one step from
the kinds of prejudice
that you encounter in
some of these places
and the kinds of prejudice you--
the literal usage
of that prejudice
in a place like a
conversion therapy facility.
Does that?
That was a long answer.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
It's good, though.
I think, one thing
that really hit home
for me as I was
reading the book is,
like, conversion therapy isn't
the disease, it's the symptom.
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: And
it was interesting,
I was reading a lot of the
coverage and interviews
you'd given around the book,
and they all focus very heavily
on your experiences
in Love and Action,
which is the conversion
therapy facility.
GARRARD CONLEY: Great name, huh?
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
Largely because that's
the really sensational
part of the book.
But you were only in conversion
therapy for two weeks.
GARRARD CONLEY:
Technically, and then I
had six months one and one,
which very different, yeah.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: But still,
like, a relatively short time.
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: I was
reading one interview with you,
that you did, where you were
talking about like-- people
were questioning,
like, oh, two weeks,
is that like sufficiently
traumatic to impact
your entire life, et
cetera, et cetera?
Which, OK, well, first that
infuriated me a little bit.
Because two weeks of
concentrated psychological
torture seems pretty traumatic.
GARRARD CONLEY: Thank
you for saying that.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
But the response
that you gave actually,
which was very kind,
really resonated
with me, which is
that, I think you said
something like, you felt
like you were going
through conversion therapy
your entire life.
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
So for me, I'm not
from a Christian background.
And I did not go to
conversion therapy.
But I do have 20-plus years
being a homosexual in America.
That really hit home for me.
And I was wondering if you'd
talk more about like what
it was like growing
up in Arkansas,
what those experiences were
that made you feel that?
GARRARD CONLEY: I'm really
glad you brought up that topic.
Because, for me, I
knew writing this book
I didn't want it to just
be some insular experience
that people could throw away
and say, well, that was crazy,
next.
I wanted people to realize
that the roots of this kind
of therapy was in the culture.
And it's been in the culture
for a very long time.
And the more--
I feel like-- this is my
armchair psychology brain--
but I feel like the more
likely you are to completely
outright dismiss it as
crazy and just like not even
deal with the reality
of it, the more likely
it is that you're pushing
something away yourself,
like something that
you've experienced,
or something you're
trying to escape from.
And so a lot of the reaction
I've gotten from my own queer
community has been, like,
well, that was only two weeks,
I've been through worse.
And it's like, maybe, yeah,
but also, this sucks too.
They did the same thing about
my rape, which is in the book.
And some people said it's a rite
of passage and all that stuff.
But growing up in Arkansas,
it was very mixed.
Because I had a very, in
some ways, ideal childhood.
We had enough money
to feel comfortable.
My dad always ran a business.
They were nice people.
They cared about a
lot of good values.
And until I was 16, when
my father became a pastor,
or started to become
a preacher, it
felt like everything
was totally OK.
I mean, of course, I
knew that I had feelings
from like third
grade on, because I
had a crush on my third
grade teacher, Mr. Smith.
But it was sort of like,
I was able to split myself
into two people, and to think,
like, there's no problem yet.
And if I just keep
acting the good son,
then everything will be OK.
When my dad became a
pastor, when I was 16,
I remember thinking, like,
OK, nothing has to change.
Because he was
actually a car dealer.
So he owned a car
dealership, and then became
a preacher, and--
yeah, draw the connections.
I just wasn't going to
go for the old joke.
That's my cousin
back there, laughing,
because she knows my family.
But yeah, when he
became a pastor,
it was like, OK,
nothing has to change.
But then suddenly, we became
much more fundamentalist.
And I would even go so far
as to say a bit fanatical
in our family.
And my father, like when
we would go to a movie,
for example, that
wasn't G rated,
if there was like a curse
word, he would walk out.
And we'd be like, oh, OK.
And so, within
that atmosphere, he
was scrutinized very much for
how he handled his family.
You know, it's a very
patriarchal system
in that church.
And so, if your
child or your wife
is not in line with
your beliefs, then
suddenly something's wrong.
And he did something wrong
if that's the case, right?
So it's like the father has
to control the whole family.
And suddenly there
was this new pressure.
You know, I had a girlfriend.
When that didn't work
out, it was like,
I don't really know what to do
to prove that everything's OK
and there's nothing wrong.
And then the events
of the book happened.
And it all sort of spirals out.
But growing up in
that environment,
there was a casual
homophobia and racism
that I generally encountered,
even in church spaces.
I remember, I was
sitting in Sunday school,
and I think I was like 15.
And this guy came
in, and he said,
there's going to be a
Pride parade in somewhere,
I can't remember, like
Fayetteville or something.
And we need you to
sign this petition
to show that you
don't agree with this.
And it was being passed around.
And I remember being old
enough to realize, like,
if I sign my name to
this thing, I'm just--
I don't know what's
going to happen
to me, because I'm a liar.
And it feels wrong.
But also, if I don't sign my
name and everyone's looking
at me, I'll be revealed.
And so, there was a
lot of that going on.
I remember, just to speak
directly to your question,
during the Matthew Shepard
news cycle, which you probably
all remember, Matthew Shepard
was beaten and left for dead
for being gay.
And there are people
in the church--
and I'm not saying all people,
but all it takes is one person
to say this--
and I remember, one
person said, well, I mean,
didn't he kind of deserve it?
Like, if you're
just flaunting it?
And so those
things, those things
that you hear as
a child, you don't
have to go through
conversion therapy for that
to do a number on you.
Because if you hear that,
and you're growing up,
and you know that you're
just like Matthew Shepard--
I mean, you would be lucky
to be like Matthew Shepard.
If you hear that, and you
know that that's the result,
then that's terrifying to you.
So that's one of
my big messages,
is like, you don't have
to be in a facility
to be in conversion therapy.
And there's been a
lot of disclosure
since I've said
those words, a lot
of emails, a lot of
people coming up to me
and saying, like, yeah, I
had similar experiences.
And one thing that people
are often wary of saying
is, like, well--
they'll say, my experience
was not like yours,
because that was crazy.
But mine-- and then they
tell me what it was.
And I'm like, yours
was too, I'm sorry.
It was equally as
messed up as mine.
So that's one of
my big messages.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: Yeah, I think
one thing, especially about
your childhood, that was
so moving to me reading
the book was that you
were trying to communicate
what you were going through.
But you didn't have
the freedom to.
And you didn't really have
the vocabulary to do so.
So there was so much symbolic
action that was happening.
And I'm guessing
maybe some of it
is, you are innately a
writer, and you're thinking
symbolically from a young age.
But I think that also
resonates with queer people
in general, just having codes
with the way they communicate
different things.
So I think one scene
that really stuck out
for me is you became
immersed in video culture
as sort of an escapism,
became sort of untenable,
and you basically drowned your
PlayStation in the bathtub.
GARRARD CONLEY: That was
like the hardest scene
for me to write, actually.
Because I loved--
I actually really
loved video games,
and still love them to this day.
And like "Final Fantasy" is
always be my favorite series.
And I remember having to
go back into that scene,
and be like, I'm so sad that
I'm drowning my PlayStation.
A lot of-- I think
a lot of actions
that queer kids do when they're
in this repressed environment,
and I would say any
kid does when they're
in a repressed environment,
it looks totally insane,
because they're
acting out, or they're
trying to communicate
something, that they
don't have the vocabulary
for, like you said.
And so in this one scene, I'd
been escaping from my problems
through video games
and through literature,
and so I just decide to invite
my parents into the bathroom.
And I just run water
all over my PlayStation,
as sort of a way of
saying like some--
now I look back, and it's
obviously a cry for help,
saying I'm becoming a zealot
right now, because something
is wrong in me.
But I felt like by doing
that, that I was sort of,
I was saying I'm going to
reject this secular world.
To them, it looked
like I was just
like a really passionate child
who might become a preacher,
like my father, right?
Like I'm going to reject
the secular world.
I'm going to put away
these stupid toys
and I'm only going
to focus on God.
And that was sort of like--
the minute you cut those
connections, you know,
you cut art away from your
life, you cut whatever gets you
through the day out-- which
I talk about in the book
as well-- like I stopped
reading secular literature,
because I was told not to--
that's when you truly go insane.
Because if you do what
Love and Action said to do,
which is to focus only on
your relationship with God
and read the Bible
constantly, well, like,
there's nothing to bounce
those ideas off of.
And that's how a
cult works, right?
Like, you just are constantly in
a sort of closed-circuit system
that doesn't actually get
any more information out
from the outside.
And it's terrifying.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
Obviously, there's
that moment when you're
outed in your freshman
year of high school.
And then from then on--
GARRARD CONLEY: College.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: I'm sorry,
freshman year of college,
I meant, yeah--
freshman year of college.
And there's this interim sort
of purgatory period between then
and when you actually set
foot in Love in Action.
And what really
struck me is that--
and I think you referred
to it as such, as like
either like a double life or
a secret life, where you're
in this fairly secular
environment and university,
where you're studying
literature, and just exploring
culture.
And at the same
time, your parents
are making you come
home on weekends
and proselytize
at a prison and--
GARRARD CONLEY: And hand
out M&M's to prisoners
if they memorized Bible verses.
That was a thing.
Didn't make the movie.
It was too weird.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: I
didn't see the movie yet.
And I'm sad to hear that,
because it's very memorable.
GARRARD CONLEY: A lot of
the stranger things are cut.
They had to sort of make it
more streamlined for people.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
But like, I just, I
felt you being like torn as
I was reading this book, that
like, your friends at
school didn't really
know exactly what was going on.
And it's basically
just sort of like
this schizophrenic
existence, where
you weren't being authentic in
an either mode of your life.
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah, I often
balk at the term authenticity
or authentic, because it's hard
to define what that truly is
and we're like multiple selves,
performativity, et cetera.
But it was like, I think
whenever you are truly
hiding something that
big from your friends,
and from your family,
and multiple secrets
in different ways, it does make
you feel a bit schizophrenic.
And I remember,
and in the book, I
describe it as I would go
to these therapy sessions.
Basically, for six months,
I went to therapy sessions,
conversion therapy
sessions, where
I had to list off any
sexual fantasies I had.
And then the therapist
would shame me.
And so I would do that.
It was the first time I
was ever talking openly
about my sexuality, and
being shamed for it.
And then I would come back.
And I would like go to
the jail with my dad
and do the jail ministry.
And then I would
go back to school
and study the "Odyssey" and
evolution for the first time,
because my high school didn't
let me study evolution.
They made us skip over it.
So it was this totally different
world that I was living in.
And I think a lot
of people actually
end up living in those two,
or like making those two
different worlds work
to a certain extent,
because you have to.
But I remember once
I was out of it--
it wasn't that
depressing at the time.
I mean, I didn't know
what was happening to me.
I just thought this
was how you survived.
And I thought everyone did that.
But after that time
period, it was like, wow,
that was really exhausting.
And now I have energy
to do other things.
But I think that a
lot of people continue
to live their lives that way.
And there are so many
stories of queer people
who are waiting, sadly,
for their parents
to die before they
can live openly.
And I think that's a
kind of schizophrenia
that is often necessary.
A lot of people,
in addition to--
I'm making it sound like
there's a lot of criticism
against the book, but there's
not-- but a lot of people,
in addition to saying, like,
two weeks, that's crazy,
they also say you have
Stockholm syndrome.
Why do you still
love your parents?
And I think that's usually
an outsider perspective.
And it's also a defensive move
for a lot of people, to say,
I'm cutting off ties entirely.
And sometimes people
do need to be cut off
when they're totally toxic.
But for many queer people,
that's just not an option.
Like, I love my family.
They made a horrible mistake.
They've apologized for it.
And it's not perfect,
but I still love them.
And I think a lot of us
have that experience.
And because of that, I don't
really hide anything anymore,
as you can see.
But even when I come back home,
there's always a readjustment.
And I think everyone feels
that with their parents,
because their
parents don't accept
their lives in a certain way.
But for queer
people, it's unique.
It's like, you come
back, and you're almost
wearing like a new heavy
suit that doesn't quite
fit you anymore.
And you go back, and your
movements are more rigid,
or you're like worried that
your wrist is too loose,
or that you're going
to say something
that is going to upset them.
And that's a really
hard life to live.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
Your relationship
with your mother
throughout the book
is really interesting, because
at least the impression
I got is, like,
as you were going
through these experiences,
there was some part of her that
knew that what was happening, in
terms of what they were making
you do, was not right.
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: But
she was torn between that
and, I think, the belief
system in which she
had been acculturated, and her
relationship with your father.
I do think there's a lot
of humor in this book,
and there is this--
GARRARD CONLEY: Thank you.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: --one moment
that really struck me out
as being, like, it's sort
of like gallows bleak humor.
GARRARD CONLEY:
There's a lot of that.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: You sort
of like set up this book club
with your mother,
where you gave her
a book to read so that she
could learn more about you.
So you gave her "The
Picture of Dorian Gray."
And I have to look up
the name of this book.
She gave you this book.
It's like it's this ex-gay
track, "Where Does a Mother Go
to Resign," which really details
a conservative fundamentalist
mother's struggle to basically
cure her son of homosexuality.
GARRARD CONLEY: That was a
very popular ex-gay book.
It's still sold on Amazon.
Crazy.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: So, yeah,
I imagine you sitting there,
and it's like we
trade books, and then
we have this
discussion, and there
doesn't seem to be too
much common ground there.
But there was something
very touching about it.
GARRARD CONLEY: My mom--
like yeah, my mom and I
have always had like a
weird, quirky relationship.
I mean, I always say, she--
like she stands out
way more than I do
as someone who is flamboyant.
And she wears-- she always hates
it when I compare her to Dolly
Parton, but--
[LAUGHTER]
You know, big hair, lots of
jewelry, like big fluffy,
blouses, with like
ruffles and lace.
So she doesn't really fit the
traditional preacher's wife
look, unless you're
watching TBN or something.
But she-- I mean,
she married at 16.
She had like one
year of college.
And then she dropped out to work
with my dad at a cotton gin.
And then she just sort
of became my dad's wife.
Like, she really didn't want
to be known only as his wife,
and she didn't want to be known
as a preacher's wife really.
So there was always kind of
a struggle with her as well.
And we shared this really
unique relationship,
where we were honest with
each other, until about 16,
when my dad became a preacher.
And it just felt like the
worst rupture in my life.
Because I was so close to her.
And she was the one that took
me to conversion therapy.
My dad basically
like put it off on us
to do it while he was getting
ordained as a preacher.
And so she would she drove
me to Memphis, Tennessee.
And she would drive
back to the hotel.
And I didn't learn
this until later,
but she would just
lie down on the bed,
completely in her
makeup and her clothes,
and like pull the comforter
up and cry until it
was time to pick me up.
Then she would fix her makeup,
pretend like everything was OK,
and then take me
back to the hotel.
And, you know, that's--
something was up
with her as well.
Like she could see
every time that I
would come back that I
was not the same person
that she once knew.
I was becoming bitter, mean,
resentful in many ways.
And so I think it was like, at
some point-- well, we escaped--
we weren't supposed
to see any movies,
or go to any restaurants,
or any secular spaces,
but at one point she
took me to the Peabody
Hotel, which is this really
fancy hotel in Memphis.
And we had this really
nice Italian meal.
And she says to me--
like, you can't
make this stuff up--
she was like, I've
got this great idea.
She's like trying to have just
normal conversation with me.
And I was like, what is it?
And she was like,
preacher's wives gone wild.
[LAUGHTER]
And I was like, how
did you just say that?
But that was the
type of person she
was when she was able
to be that person.
And so, it was like we
got this taste of what
it was like to be normal again.
And then when I went back
into therapy, you know,
that sort of helped me to
realize that this was crazy
and it was tearing us apart.
And when I did go
back into therapy,
and I was asked to sit
across from an empty chair
and yell at my imaginary father
and say that I hated him,
it was like, well, first of all,
my mom and I are falling apart,
and now they want
me to hate my father
as part of their like
Christian ministry, which
seems a little insane, right?
There's only so much
cognitive dissonance
you can take before
something breaks.
And so my mom, you know,
seeing my mom be happy again,
plus seeing this sort
of therapy for what
it was, that's what
really got me to call her
and get me out of there.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: And she
did, she pulled you out.
GARRARD CONLEY: Mm-hmm.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: It's this
sort of the thing, where
you made the first step,
but you needed someone
to actually drive
you out of there.
GARRARD CONLEY: Well,
if she had said--
I mean, I think
about this a lot.
If she had said, hey, maybe we
should give this a second shot,
I would have said
yes, immediately.
But instead, I made
that first move,
and she made the second move,
and she didn't look back.
And that's what
counted, you know.
Like, the fact that she never
questioned it after that point
is really phenomenal,
considering how many times
I questioned what I was doing.
My mom didn't have any
doubt about whether or not
it was hurting me.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: So
changing gears a bit,
just sort of more like a
literary geek question.
I was really fascinated
by the narrative structure
that you chose for this book.
Because you read
a lot of memoirs
and they're very,
very chronological,
sequence in time.
GARRARD CONLEY: Present tense.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: Yeah, present
tense, start here, end here.
And at first, as I
was reading the book,
it was a little disconcerting.
You were basically
jumping back and forth
through time at these
various waypoints.
So starting in
conversion therapy,
jumping back to end of
high school, to college.
And there were certain points in
which it was unclear sometimes
whether this happened before
you were outed after you outed,
that sort of thing.
And as I was reading
it, it was frustrating.
But as I look back and think
about it, it actually, I felt,
was incredibly impactful.
Because it felt like how
we experience memory, which
is just sort of like
mental connections
that are not always sequential.
I'd love to hear more
about your thought process
about how you structured
and organized the book.
GARRARD CONLEY:
Well, a lot of it
was just limitations,
because I'd only written
short stories at this point.
And I didn't ever want
to write a memoir.
I was like memoir
is the trashy genre.
It's the one, people who can't
actually write, write memoirs.
But I sort of wrote
them in chunks,
like they were their
own standalone thing.
So if you read the
chapters that are titled,
they could technically
be excerpted and used
on their own.
So that's how I started.
And then, of course,
my editor was like,
do you want to keep it that way?
And I said, I don't know.
But then I thought about
how each activity that's
described in the
therapy sections
leads into a sort of extended,
very extended flashback
and sort of shows you
where that idea came from.
So for example, there's
this thing called a genogram
that they made us
do, which is actually
used in regular therapy
sessions sometimes.
But in this case, it was used to
identify the sin in our family.
And so we had to put down
any drug or alcohol abuse.
But in addition to that, like
abortions, or impure thoughts,
and things like that.
So we had to look at
that, and say, well,
that's why we're
here, that's why
I'm gay, which is crazy, right?
But I decided to juxtapose
that with my actual family life
and where my relationship
with my father was really
and what it looked like, to
sort of push against the really
unhealthy narrative
that I was given.
So each time I gave another
Love and Action section,
I would always try
to like juxtapose it
with something that
played with it,
or queered it, or
made it unusual.
And I used a quote from
Foucault. I'm a Foucault whore,
I guess.
Sorry, I'm one of those.
But there's this
quote from Foucault
that I want to actually--
wow, it's upside down again.
I wanted to actually
quote, because I think
it's a really great quote.
And it's what sort of guided
the writing of the memoir.
I think theory can be
used to guide writing.
I know that's controversial.
"Rules are empty in themselves,
violent, and unfinalized.
They're impersonal and can
be bent to any purpose.
The successes of
history belong to those
who are capable of
seizing these rules,
to replace those who have used
them, to disguise themselves
so as to perfect them,
invert their meaning,
and redirect them against
those who had initially
imposed them."
Which was the whole
point of the book.
So like to take the version
of Christianity that
was used against me
and then to actually
use what I thought was the
correct form of Christianity,
which is built on compassion,
perfect that, and then use
that against people who'd
initially imposed that rules
against me, that was my goal.
And so, that's why there's
a constant struggle
in the book between
what's being told to me
and what was my reality
before I got there.
And that, then,
informs my decision
at the end of the
book, to leave.
Because you, as a reader,
have witnessed my family.
And you've seen them
in their complexity.
And so, when they say, hate your
father, like, you as a reader,
like I wanted to
also, but I can't.
And so you begin to
understand exactly what
that situation felt like.
That was only way I
knew how to do that.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: I think
it was very, very effective.
I'm curious, like, there's
a lot more queer literature
out, which is wonderful,
than there was at the time
you were--
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: Like it
feels like distant past,
but it's like 15
years ago or so.
Like, I think back to
late '90s, early 2000s,
there was not a whole lot--
GARRARD CONLEY: There
was Edmund White.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
--in pop culture.
Yeah.
So I'm curious, like
film, books, television,
what inspires you in--
GARRARD CONLEY: Now?
SANDERS KLEINFELD: Yeah, now.
GARRARD CONLEY: It's still
tough for queer people
to get published.
You still get told, like, you'll
only make this amount of money,
because it's a queer book,
which is a ridiculous thing,
but people will say it.
But we live in a time
when there's just
a lot of gray
literature happening.
And my good friend
Garth Greenwell,
who wrote this beautiful book
called, "What Belongs to You,"
he's really a big
influence for me.
Because I met him,
I guess, three years
before I started
writing this book.
And it was like, he'd
only had one small chat
book out at that point.
He didn't have
like a big career.
He got all these great reviews.
But at the time, it was like
meeting this like superstar.
No one else knew who he
was really at the time.
But I felt like he
was a superstar,
because he'd written this
really, really gay book, that
was like just unapologetically
gay and really well written.
And written like the best
literature that's ever existed.
And I just remember being
like, somebody did it.
They actually did it.
They didn't make it cheesy.
It wasn't like stupid.
You know, like, you look on--
I keep mentioning other
brands while I'm at Google,
and I feel nervous about that.
But you look on Netflix, and
you see all of the gay movies,
like 75% of them
are cheesy, right?
They're like, I
would never watch
that, it's not a good movie.
And that's what I felt
for so long about queer
books or straight people
writing about queer people.
It was always sort
of in this weird--
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
Pandering, almost, yeah.
GARRARD CONLEY:
Yeah, and so here
was somebody who'd done that,
and did it for the first time,
I thought, really well.
And so it really inspired me
to just write this book the way
it was supposed to be
written and not really think
about anything else.
But other than that, I'm trying
to think of what I've really
liked recently.
Well, everyone should go to
"The Favorite" right now.
That's an amazing movie.
It's like super
queer in all ways.
And then, I really liked "Pose"
last year, that was good too.
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
Well, I wanted
to give you an
opportunity to read
a little bit from your book.
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah.
So this is when I'm
trying to understand
the connection between the man
who was the director of Love
and Action, who was
performing this torture on us,
I wanted to understand where
his thoughts and his sort
of ideology came from.
And I compared it to
my father in this.
So I'm like at the
end of my time there.
"I often thought of the life my
parents had shared before me,
how inevitable it all seemed,
my father the quarterback,
my mother the cheerleader,
everyone in town
cheering for their success.
Champagne glasses
held up each year
on New Year's Eve, the only
night they allowed themselves
to drink alcohol.
A toast to the next year,
and the next, and the next,
until finally, it must
have been my mother
without a glass in hand,
standing before their friends
on the top floor of
Adam's Mark Hotel,
toasting to a new
birth that would never
arrive that first time.
And then there was
me, the boy in whom
they placed their dreams.
It was hard to imagine
the degree of their love
for me, the easy
faith they must have
placed in God at the moment
of my uncomplicated birth.
It was hard to imagine how
disappointing it must have been
for them to figure
out I wasn't quite
all that they'd hoped for,
a stain on their otherwise
perfect union.
Just that morning I had
read John Smith's testimony
at the back of the handbook.
This is the guy
who ran the camp.
One that had suggested we could
all one day follow the path
many of our parents had
followed and journey out
of homosexuality.
Smith wrote that he had met
his second wife, Vilene,
while doing yard work.
How romantic, he wrote.
I imagined her in a floppy
sun hat, long sun dress,
catching on her knees, thong
sandals on her pedicured feet.
She must have caught
sight of Smith's dimples
as he approached his
next weed or stray branch
with the simple smile of
a child, the smile that
had wooed so many men
to the ex-gay lifestyle.
A hiss and spray of automatic
sprinklers pivoting rainbows,
quote, 'She's aware that
my attractions have changed
in general toward men, but
that I love her deeply,
and make choices daily to
remain faithful to our marriage,
and have not regretted
that decision.'
End quote.
Like my father, Smith was
excellent at conversion
at justifying whatever
sudden mood overtook him.
He had skipped over most of his
former life in his testimony,
never explicitly mentioning
it in our sessions.
It was hard to
imagine that he'd ever
been married, the way he
talked about how many men
he'd been with.
Until I read his testimony,
I had no idea just how vast
his journey had been.
Quote, 'I had developed an
addictive habit of masturbation
that carried into my
marriage,' Smith wrote.
In the same way that my father
had condemned everything
before his calling as rubble,
as fodder for God's greater
purpose in his life,
Smith had consigned
every failed act in
his first marriage
to the sin of addiction.
Rising out of this
sin, Smith now
believed the higher
power had elected
him to lead other gays
out of their addiction
into successful marriages.
He believed he could do this
because he knew a thing or two
about the familial
circumstances that
had contributed to the formation
of homosexual addiction.
My father's story carried
an obvious parallel.
Working with criminals,
thugs, as he called them,
had compelled him to
begin the jail ministry
in our small Arkansan town.
Why did good man
turn out to be thugs?
Because they came from
circumstances like his,
families in which the alcoholic
father had done something
brutal.
But what had held their lives
together before the conversion?
Before the A to Z logic of
sin reduced human complexity
to a syllogism?
What form had their faith
taken, however limited,
in their long lives
as pre-converts?
Christianity is, among other
things, replete with converts.
Peter renounces his atheism
to become a fisher of men.
Saul becomes Paul on the
road to Damascus, wiped clean
of a past in which the execution
of good Christian believers
was his life's work.
But the Bible never shows us the
beating heart of a pre-convert.
Crumple the first
half of the story
and tossed it in the trash,
all else is distraction."
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
I also, just to end
on a more inspirational note--
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah,
there is another paragraph
there is like hopeful.
But I was like, I've run
out of my reading time, so--
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
I just want to read
one paragraph of something
that really, really resonated
with me and meant a lot.
And so this is midway
through the book,
where you're
talking about trying
to imagine what it's like
to be a straight person
and to have all
of your desires--
GARRARD CONLEY:
That's [INAUDIBLE]
SANDERS KLEINFELD:
You say, "What did it
feel like to not have to
think about your every move?
To not be scrutinized
for everything you did?
To not have to lie every day?
In my most stubborn
moments, the moments
that must have accumulated
to such a degree
that the blond haired
boy distrusted me,
I told myself that
it must have felt
really dull to be straight.
When I was my most
stubborn self,
I thought this affliction
is what makes me smarter.
This disadvantage is what
gives me my ambition.
This is what first
inspired me to write."
And I thought that was a really
beautiful sentiment about where
we find strength as members
of the LGBT community.
So--
GARRARD CONLEY: Thank you.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: And
with that, I wanted to-- we
have about 10 minutes
or so for questions,
if anybody has questions.
Pass the mic around.
AUDIENCE: I haven't read
your book or seen the movie.
In this talk, you haven't
really talked much at all
about your peer relationships.
And I'm curious about
that, two aspects of that.
One is, did you have any friends
at all who were gay, or--
I'm talking about
high school mainly--
who were gay or
at least straight,
but may be more open,
and warm, and whatever?
And the other side of that is,
did you take a lot of abuse
from other peers who may be--
that not necessarily
knew you were gay,
but may be suspected there was
something different about you?
And therefore shunned you or
abused you, even, verbally,
or whatever?
GARRARD CONLEY: So I had no--
there was one out person
in my high school.
And he was abused horribly.
But he was very tough.
And I remember seeing that
as an example of, like, wow,
I don't think I really
want to do that.
But even though I didn't
agree with him at the time,
I was very amazed
that he managed
to stand up and still wear
what he wore in school
and act the way he did with
people yelling at him all
the time.
But the only friend
that I did have
in high school that could
be considered to be gay
was an abuser.
So that was not good.
In terms of whether I was made
fun of, before I met Chloe,
my girlfriend in the
book, I was basically--
like no one knew that I was gay.
But I was overweight
and I also just-- there
were mannerisms that were
a bit obvious at times.
And I remember, like, for some
reason, I decided to take--
I think it was
because it was easy,
I took a shop class for like
two semesters, where you learn
how to use a bandsaw and weld.
And I really liked
it, because it
was like you could do a
lot of work by yourself
and no one would bother you.
But the guys in there
were pretty terrible.
And they would
always just like--
if I didn't have any
stories about someone
that I was having sex with, even
though they obviously weren't
having that much sex
probably, they're
in band class for two semesters,
they would just make fun of me
the whole time.
So it was terrible.
But that was the only--
like, I managed, I
passed really well.
And it's kind of funny,
like people, I'll
go to like a gay
club, and people
will sort of stare at
me, like why are you
not acting like everyone else?
And I'm like, because
I was trained, sorry.
I'm trying to untrain it.
But I was very good at passing.
And that's why my
family was very shocked
when I was outed to them.
And I think because
of that shock,
it made it easier,
sort of, for them
to go to the church members
and listen to whatever
they had to say to fix this.
Because they thought I was--
they thought I was
totally in the clear,
like two girlfriends,
he still seems
to be dating another girl.
Everything's going great.
He looks normal.
He's smart.
And then like suddenly
this hits them.
And it's the worst
thing that could
have hit them,
because the church was
so obsessed with the topic.
I mean, it was like,
it was the thing.
I wrote about in
the book, but when
I came back from conversion
therapy on a weekend,
between the two
weeks, my dad-- was
being ordained as a preacher.
And we had to stand
up on a stage.
And my dad's final question
during his ordination
was what are you going to do
about the sin of homosexuality
in the church?
And my dad was like,
I don't believe in it.
And I'm just standing
there, like, OK.
And no one knows I'm
in conversion therapy
except my family.
So, you know, lighter note.
To be fair, that was
an intense question.
AUDIENCE: You mentioned this
question of authenticity.
And then sometimes
there's a narrative
that runs both ways,
that if you identify
as part of the LGBT
community, both the secular
and the religious world
say you can't have both.
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah, exactly.
AUDIENCE: And so, what have
been your experiences with that,
in terms of living the way that
you feel, or whoever may feel,
is appropriate to themselves?
GARRARD CONLEY: Yeah, I mean
there's some really great
gay Christian writers.
Chris Vines is one person
that I really like.
He wrote "God and
the Gay Christian."
And that helped my
mom a lot, whenever
that-- because she was like,
I need to understand it
from a biblical perspective.
And that really helped.
There's also a lot of churches
that are affirming now.
I mean, not a lot, but
more than there ever were.
So it is possible.
It's not just a myth.
But unfortunately,
in my life, religion
was used as a weapon against me.
And it's taken me a very
long time to feel comfortable
being in a church
again, without feeling
some of those flashbacks,
or just really scrutinized.
Even though I know no
one's looking at me,
it feels like that.
So that's been a really
hard struggle for me.
And it's something
that I really advocated
for in our own community,
is to be sensitive to that.
Because a lot of gay
Christians or LGBTQ Christians,
they think that life is
not possible for them.
And that can result in even more
suicidal ideation, and a loss
of self, and identity.
So it's important
to show that there
is a multiplicity of lives that
you can lead once you come out.
But often, that gets lost
in a very tough battle
that we're fighting.
Like it's tough when we're
in the age of Mike Pence.
And he's been very anti
LGBTQ for a very long time.
And it's very tough
to say to someone,
like, let's be
reasonable, there are
good Christians, who
like us, and our side,
and are helping us.
And it's hard for some
people to hear that,
because they feel like they're
fighting for their lives.
But one of my messages--
and often, you know, I
do take hits for this,
but I always want to reaffirm
the fact that there's
nothing in Christianity
that is inherently
anti-LGBTQ, especially if
you look at the passages.
And saying something as
simple, on like a big platform,
as God does not hate
you, you are not a sin,
even though that seems so weird
that we're saying in 2019,
it's still very shocking to
a lot of people to hear that.
And so I've tried
to use my platform
as much as I can to just
be like, you can have both.
Even if I don't have both yet.
You know, my mom's calling,
and she's not pushing anymore,
but she'll call and be like, so
have you gone to a church yet,
I don't really care which one.
No, Mom, I haven't.
Yeah.
AUDIENCE: Thanks for sharing.
I was just curious.
GARRARD CONLEY: No, have
you found it difficult to--
like have you found
a lot of people
who don't see that the
two are compatible?
AUDIENCE: Well, it's more
that, I don't [INAUDIBLE]
but I work a lot with
communities of faith.
And I do interact with a
lot of younger folks who
are struggling with that.
They're saying, I'm being
told that if I choose
to be out and authentic, I
have to reject this part,
even though there are aspects
of it that I do want to keep.
And so I was just
always just curious
to see how people who choose
to continue practicing faith
can balance it.
GARRARD CONLEY: I
think the project
of any sort of liberation is
to create more modes of being,
like as many as possible.
And we learn that, when you
go from second wave feminism
to where we are now.
And it's like you can
be any type of woman
that you want to be.
And so I think depending on what
stage of liberation you're in,
sometimes you have
to sort of protect,
so you're more intense,
and you're like,
screw straight people.
And then now, you're like,
OK, you can sit at the table
again if you be nice.
But there's like a-- so
I try not to judge people
who are in the different spot.
Because some people
have been really hurt
by what's been used
against them in religion
and what's been justified.
SANDERS KLEINFELD: Thank
you so much, everybody.
GARRARD CONLEY:
Thanks you so much.
[APPLAUSE]
