Spotlight on conversion therapy
A relative’s pain set the table for the director’s look at efforts to ‘convert’ gay and trans people
Kristine Stolakis’ uncle struggled with his sexual identity and mental health issues his whole life.
After he died, she found a conversion therapy pamphlet among his possessions — conversion therapy representing the illconceived notion, mostly pushed in religious communities, that you can overcome homosexuality or gender identity issues to become straight. Usually, this involves prayer and coercive counseling that is not at all based in science and frequently causes significant psychological and emotional trauma.
Horrified, Stolakis, a filmmaker, began deeply researching the topic and now is making her documentary feature debut with “Pray Away” on Netflix. The film tells the story of four former conversion therapy leaders who have not only left the movement but renounced it and are working to put an end to this harmful practice.
But it also weaves in the current work of Jeffrey, a self-identified “ex-trans” who is hard at work keeping the conversion therapy movement alive. To provide perspective, Stolakis also includes the story of Julie, who was pushed by her mother into conversion therapy and spent nearly a decade trying to become straight. The film shows Julie’s pain and suffering at the hands of those imposing their will on her, but it also shows the joyful humanity she has found — despite the lasting scars — since she left the movement.
Stolakis spoke by Zoom recently about the issues surrounding this subject as well as the importance of having survivors and women leaders on her production team.
The interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Q What were the biggest surprises for you making this film?
A I didn’t understand until I started doing research just how ubiquitous it continues to be. About 700,000 people in the U.S. have gone through some version of this, and it continues on every major continent — we say major because we don’t know of a recorded case in Antarctica — so the movement exists in a very present-tense way.
The other thing that surprised me is that the vast majority of people who run conversion therapy organizations are actually LGBTQ+ Christians who claim they themselves have changed. That unlocked a lot of understanding about why my uncle believed change was possible and why he was incredibly devastated and blamed himself when he could not change. The general public has a general understanding that conversion therapy is bad, but we don’t understand who’s running these things, and we hope the film sheds a light on that.
Q Do you hope to change minds in the conversion therapy community or help survivors feel better about what they’ve been through?
A I hope people in the movement take a peek at the movie and hear these stories of pain and trauma. People weren’t always faced with the pain, and when they were they would excuse it away — “Oh, that’s just one person” — but if you see it then it’s really hard to deny that you’re causing harm. That’s why we included the story of Julie, who is a survivor of the movement.
For some survivors, it’s going to be too much to see and that’s OK, but for some, it will feel healing. We’re working with Netflix to have mental health support online for people. It really can be a lot if you’ve been through this.
Q The former leaders, now working to stop the movement, are filled with regret.
A Their experiences had been built on internalized homophobia and transphobia. When they had to truly face, through choice or circumstance, the harm that they did or that they were lying to themselves, it doesn’t surprise me they decided to leave. I think all of them wish they’d left much earlier, and they need to live with that.
There was a lot of talk about mental health and scheduling therapy around these interviews. I was asking them to go back and shine a light on the hardest and most traumatic parts of their lives and on the pain that they caused and asking them to process that. But they knew there might be greater good from going on the record.
I am really grateful that they shared their stories and hope it inspires other leaders currently in the movement to be open to the fact that they can change their mind. We live in a world where changing your mind is looked at as being weak or not a leader, but being open-minded is one of the best qualities a leader can have.
Q You’ve talked about the leaders we see in your film, past and present, having “good intentions.” But when we know how harmful this practice is, it’s difficult to watch someone perpetuating it
now and think that good intentions count for anything. A Good intentions do not absolve people. I think it’s important to help understand just how motivated people are to continue this work even though it harms people. Jeffrey is someone who truly believes in the work he is doing. I do not think he is a bad person but his work is resulting in very bad things.
I wanted to show the accountability of these people, which is why I weave in Julie’s story as a participant, which resulted in incredible mental health challenges. People who go through this therapy are more than twice as likely to attempt suicide, and we don’t shy away from that. This is not a system of four bad apples or the movement would have all gone away.
Q What can be done to stop conversion therapy?
A If you see in a newspaper headline that your state has banned conversion therapy, it’s a bit of a misdirect — they’ve banned it for licensed practitioners and specifically for minors, which is about a third of where this happens. The majority of conversion therapy happens within religious institutions and communities. In countries like the U.S. with religious freedom protections, no law can touch where conversion therapy happens the most. We need a culture shift and that is the way it will change.
A big question I had was, “Why does this continue if we know overwhelmingly that people cannot choose their sexuality or their gender identity?” Sexual and gender fluidity are real but it’s the idea that being LGBTQ is a sickness and sin that’s the problem.
As long as this larger culture of homophobia and transphobia exists in the religious communities but also more broadly, they are essentially training new leadership. It doesn’t matter if a handful of people defect because there are going to be other people very motivated to believe that change is possible, ready to believe with any good feeling inside of them that change is right around the corner.
Q Your team includes conversion therapy survivors and people who grew up queer in religious communities. Why is that important?
A Ethically speaking, it’s our duty as filmmakers to create a team who have a real connection to the community you are covering. That doesn’t mean you slap on five names five seconds before you try to sign a Netflix deal — which happens — but I’ve been working with this team for years and it made for a better film.
Q You also have a woman editor, a woman director of photography, a woman composer. Why was that important and how did it shape the film?
A I didn’t hire them because they were women — two cinematographers on the project were men— but because they are really good at their jobs and I love collaborating with them.
But most women in film have had the experience not taken as seriously as a male counterpart even if your idea is a little better.
Women are expected to be perfect the first time, and our mistakes are seen as evidence that we are not as smart and capable. So women in film are really hard workers who don’t take no for an answer. You have to have such intense drive and confidence and that’s even more true for women of color, women with disabilities and women who are parents. I really hope our film becomes a platform so other people can see the quality of everyone’s work.