When work feels like conversion therapy

I recently had a coworker praise me for being “fearless,” for standing up for inclusion in various spaces. They said they felt inspired by my refusal to hide my authentic self. But they didn’t understand that, for me, this isn’t just a matter of integrity. It's a matter of survival.

I've had the opportunity to study conversion therapy as a consultant for initiatives like the Dear Alana podcast. And I've spent countless hours talking with friends about their experiences in conversion therapy. One thing I've discovered is how the dynamics of work often look like the dynamics of conversion therapy. It can be deadening. We need to find a way to come out of this.

Embracing your "masculine identity"

I grew up in an environment where it was bad both to be gay and also to seem gay. As a boy, you were more likely to be marginalized if you dressed or behaved “effeminately," if you were warm rather than commanding, empathetic rather than tough, “emotional” rather than “rational.” You weren’t just shoved into a closet if you were gay. You were also pressured to put into a closet anything about you that could be perceived as gay or that threatened certain expectations for "masculinity." To be safe, accepted, and celebrated, you also had to hide these other parts of yourself.

In church, I was told by some that I could be gay, as long as I didn’t “act on it” or talk about it. On top of this, I and many others were given messages that you became gay by growing up in an overly effeminate environment and that, conversely, you could become straight by embracing your "masculine identity." Some of my friends were driven by these messages into conversion therapy. They were forced to embrace male stereotypes in an effort to change their sexual orientations. When people think of "conversion therapy" they often think of electroshock therapy or its more overtly abusive forms. But the most prevalent forms are actually those grounded in pushing gendered stereotypes and a counselor telling you "how you really feel." They tell you queerness isn't real, and that you can set it aside to be a "real man."

This stuff kills. Though I was fortunate enough to evade formal conversion therapy, messages like this nearly killed me.

The closet at work is like the closet at church

What many people don’t realize is that the messages of conversion therapy (messages about how to be a "real man") are a lot like the messages in many corporate environments: to be a “leader” is to be commanding, "tough," and “rational." You need to talk, sit, and act in a particular way. When I was early in my career and a lawyer helped me prepare for law firm interviews, we spent most of the time talking about how to smooth out the lilt in my voice, adjust the way I sit, and do a number of other things that ultimately made me seem less stereotypically gay. I also think about leaders in my professional life who, especially in challenging situations, told me how to feel rather than creating space for my actual feelings.

These were the sorts of messages and dynamics I got in my church community, forcing me to hide who I really was and how I actually felt. They were the things my friends experienced in conversion therapy, trying to convince them that they were less-than and had to change. Many LGBTQ+ people are (implicitly) told by their professional communities: "Even if you can (quietly) be queer, you won't be a good leader if you seem queer." They tell us how to talk, sit, act, think, and feel.

I won’t share here the story of how I overcame a longing for death because of how those toxic messages alienated me from myself and made me hate myself. But I will say that one reason I refuse to do nothing in the face of uninclusivity in my professional life is because I know the cost of those toxic messages for many people.

“Coming out” is for everyone

In much of corporate life, people are pushed to assimilate, to conform to someone else’s idea of a “professional” or a “leader,” just like me and my friends were pushed for much of our lives to be someone else’s idea of a “man." In these environments, everything that doesn’t conform to one image of success is shoved into a closet and left to slowly die. These messages are overwhelmingly queerphobic, and also misogynistic. Environments that are non-inclusive for queer people are often also non-inclusive for women. And they're non-inclusive for cisgender straight men who don't fit stereotypically "masculine" norms and have to hide their authentic selves. These dynamics harm many communities. Many messages about what it means to be "professional" can function to marginalize employees based on race, religion, and other identities as well.

No one should have to experience this. Instead, we should be encouraged to be our fullest and most authentic selves, and to find the ways in which everything unique about us can create new kinds of teams solving new kinds of problems in new kinds of environments. We should all take a look at the ways in which things we should love about ourselves may be "belittled" in our churches, communities, and even workplaces. We should learn to embrace the precious parts of ourselves that have been forced to be "closeted." We need to fight for spaces to "come out," for both ourselves and for others. The "coming out" process might be started by the LGBTQ+ community, but it is really for everyone. We will all perform our best, both at work and in every other part of our lives, when we can be our fullest selves.

Going forward

People are sometimes surprised to find out that I still go to church. The reason I can go is because I believe that we can change, and institutions can change too. I've found a warm welcoming community for myself. And I've learned to stand up for myself when I feel the messages I'm getting from my community are making me feel small. I can identify when messages feel like a form of conversion therapy, even when they look like something else. I am learning to create more space for myself and others. I feel more connected to my faith life because I feel more connected to myself, and I have so much more to give now.

Fortunately, much of professional life is changing too. Leaders are increasingly measured and evaluated on their degree of inclusion. The share of women leaders is increasing. LGBTQ+ inclusion is now being associated with profitability. And employees from historically marginalized groups are lowering our tolerance level for uninclusive dynamics. When we identify problematic dynamics or policies, we are more likely than our peers from historically privileged groups to "vote with our feet" by seeking other opportunities. As I sometimes tell peers, "I will grow in my career, and I need to do that in a place where I know I can grow as me."

I believe that LGBTQ+ employees can be at the forefront of identifying problematic dynamics in the workplace, by leveraging the skills we've gained in identifying problematic dynamics in church communities and other environments. We can take our struggles to create a better environment for everyone. This is something to celebrate in Pride Month.