The Cut - What I Learned in Conversion Therapy

I no longer believe in salvation. But when I did, I spent hours walking around the suburbs smoking cigarettes, desperate not to acknowledge the obvious. Around the time I turned 15, my parents drove me three hours across Indiana to see a Christian psychologist. A month earlier, I had broken up with my girlfriend, and my mom had turned to me in our minivan at a red light and asked me if I was gay. My silence was my confession.

My siblings stayed with my aunt and uncle, as my parents and I tried to get to the bottom of my homosexual tendencies with a professional. (That I might eventually come out as transgender had not yet crossed their minds, despite the fact that I loved to play pretend as Princess Leia.) When the psychologist spoke with me alone, I resolved to give him as little as possible. I sat in defensive silence as he asked me questions about whether I’d slept with a man, if I had ever watched porn, and other intimate details about my body. I soon understood that the cost of pleasure was hell.

Can you imagine Barbie without Allan?! Michael Cera’s manager almost lost him the role at the last minute. Revisit our profile of Renée Rapp, who just released her debut album, Snow Angel, today. The southwestern United States is preparing for a year’s worth of rainfall from Hurricane Hilary. Dolly Parton remixed “Let It Be” with Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr. And Cher says she was able to “sneak” into Ukraine to rescue an elephant.

For our inaugural Beach Reads Book Club, New York writers Brock Colyar, Allison P. Davis, Emily Gould, Matthew Schneier, and Alison Willmore will discuss the season’s buzziest book, Emma Cline’s The Guest. Sign up here to join the discourse and get the newsletter.