There’s less subtlety in the TikTok videos posted by Samuel A. Perez, who calls himself an “ex-gay stripper, now son of God.” One of his most popular clips, which has been viewed more than 1.2 million times, is captioned, “I used to be gay but I discovered Jesus is greater than my sexuality.” Over the viral beat, Perez is seen examining what appears to be a loaded Bible, smiling and declaring, “I’m rolling over!”
The comments section is filled with thousands, even tens of thousands, of positive messages: “Welcome to the family! ✝️✝️🙏🙏”, “You’re shining bright ✝️”, “Yes, I’m the same!”
Makeup, a pink wig, and bunny ears are staples in Perez’s videos, and some commenters weren’t sure if the post was satire or a skit. “Wait a second I didn’t think this was serious 💀 I thought it was a joke, to be honest 😦,” read one comment on a recent Instagram video.
Well, I won’t lie either, this is no joke.
When Perez posts to his more than 75,000 followers on TikTok, he appears very serious about his efforts to seek God’s help in overcoming same-sex attraction (SSA, a term often used in ex-gay lexicons), and according to his website, he wants to help “others struggling with SSA find comfort and encouragement toward the all-embracing, all-encompassing love of Jesus Christ.”
The comments section contains dozens of messages from young people wanting to know how to control their same-sex desires. “I love God, but how does he work? Help me. I’m bisexual and the gay part of me makes me angry,” one reader pleaded.
Conversion Therapy 2.0
The long-discredited “ex-gay” movement, which first surfaced in the 1970s, peaked in the 1990s, then faded in the early 2000s, is being rebranded by a new wave of young, digitally native influencers. Pérez is one of many so-called ex-gay influencers active on TikTok and Instagram; others include Rashad Verme and Richard Matthews, who have built social media followings with content showing people how to “get over” homosexuality.
Merchandise and memes are part of an evolving tactic being used across social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram to promote conversion therapy and repackage harmful narratives for younger generations.
There’s even a rap song released by ex-gay group X-Out-Loud, with lyrics that clearly convey the message of conversion therapy: “Ruby was trans, she’s not. Tony was gay, he’s not. Selina was a lesbian, she’s not. We’re changed by the power of Christ.”
TikTok’s community guidelines prohibit “hateful ideas,” including “content that supports or promotes conversion therapy programs,” but for many LGBT activists and victims of conversion therapy, the social media platform has not done enough to enforce its own rules.
Kansas City resident Andrew Hartzler, who was forced by his family to undergo conversion therapy after coming out at age 14, frequently sees content about conversion therapy on social media platforms but has had little success getting it removed.
“80 to 90 percent of the conversion therapy content I report on any platform gets a response like, ‘This doesn’t violate our community guidelines’ which is really frustrating,” the now 26-year-old explains.
TikTok says its content moderation process uses a combination of automated tools and human review. There’s no doubt that moderating a platform like TikTok, where tens of millions of videos are posted every day, is a massive task.
But while Hartzler acknowledges that TikTok faces challenges in finding and removing videos that violate its guidelines, he believes moderators need to be better educated on how to identify dangerous content, because missing even a small percentage of conversion therapy videos could have serious real-world consequences.
“For parents who are determined to change their kids, there are some intimidating resources out there, and now TikTok is just another addition to that arsenal of tools parents can use to try to change their kids,” Hertzler added.
By perpetuating what he describes as conversion therapy culture, Hartzler believes that if these influential people had been around when he was undergoing conversion therapy, he may have found the process more acceptable.
Helping “dropouts”
Curtis Lopez-Galloway, founder of the West Hollywood-based Conversion Therapy Dropout Network, a network of survivors that offers support to other “dropouts” as they deal with trauma, believes the problem of social media influencers promoting pseudoscientific treatments will only get bigger and more urgent as they continue to be given a platform.
“By doing this on social media, they’re spreading false narratives and harmful misinformation,” Lopez-Galloway explained. “When I see it, I report it as misinformation. I could look at that content all day and my eyes would turn red, because it doesn’t bother me.”
But for many victims of conversion therapy, it’s distressing to see videos posted by so-called “ex-gays” appear in their social media feeds. According to a report by the Williams Institute at the University of California, Los Angeles, 350,000 people in the United States underwent conversion therapy as adolescents.
“The problem is that for some people in our network, seeing this kind of stuff can be re-emotional and re-traumatizing. The problem with these platforms is that they don’t police this content very well,” he added.
Just as Lopez-Galloway has spent years trying to overcome the harm caused by his experience with conversion therapy, he now sees young people facing similar challenges.
“It’s the exact same thing, but it’s much more intense. Now it’s constantly on your screen as you scroll, and it’s fed to you as it comes,” Lopez-Galloway said. “I think we’re finally starting to see the impact it’s having on younger generations. It’s really frightening.”
Oliver Gray, director of the Conversion Therapy Dropout Network, who came out at 16 and underwent conversion therapy, is trying to help people who leave comments on social media platforms about struggling with their sexuality or gender identity.
“Instead of responding to the actual post, I’ll click on that person’s account to see if I can send them a direct message and give them the conversion therapy dropout link,” he says.
Gray hopes that by sharing his experience, viewers will think twice about continuing down the path of conversion therapy: “I always just say, if you have any questions or if you feel the same way, reach out to me.”
This is far from a perfect solution, but if social media platforms are unable or unwilling to remove posts that promote these pseudoscientific practices, offering alternatives to conversion therapy may be one of the only options left.
“It doesn’t solve the fact that all of this is still on the platform, but at least I’m not advertising it and I can get that message out to that person.”
Viral fail?
Though many of these pro-conversion therapy videos have received millions of views, Raven Baker, social and community lead at Gen Z creative consultancy Adolescent Content, believes the equation is more complicated than the simple equation that views always equal agreement.
“When we talk about posts like this, it’s important to consider hatewatching. Often times, people will share content they don’t agree with to other platforms, so a TikTok video ends up on Twitter, where people have their own little community saying, ‘Oh my god, this is crazy,'” Baker says.
From the perspective of Sarah Larsen, artistic director at Adolescent, whose job it is to figure out what kind of digital content appeals to Gen Z, many of the videos these influencers create are basic and don’t tap into well-worn trends.
“When you see something that was really organically popular a year and a half ago, you know it right away. If you’re using something that Gen Z loves to grab their attention but it’s not authentic, that’s often a red flag,” she says.
Simply copying trends and hot moments isn’t enough to create content that Gen Z will resonate with and take seriously. “The great thing about Gen Z is they can sniff out a fake trend from a mile away. This content makes me feel like Gen X is copying young people,” Larsen says.
While younger TikTok users may be better able to spot fake content, there’s a risk that influencers who advocate conversion therapy could reach parents with young children who don’t understand the context of these videos.
“I don’t think the danger here is necessarily that young people will see this and be ‘converted,’ but that perhaps older, homophobic relatives will see this and use it in a kind of confirmation bias way,” Larsen added.
“God’s Plan”
Every health organization in the United States, including the American Medical Association and the American Psychological Association, has condemned conversion therapy as a harmful practice and criticized its lack of scientific support.
Darren, [not his real name]Perez, a London-based creative who underwent faith-based conversion therapy when he was 20, feels seeing conversion therapy influencers online only adds to the confusion he already feels about his own sexuality.
“Ex-gay people inspired me in real life, not online – this was before TikTok was a thing, but the first time I saw something about ex-gay people on Instagram it really made me realise that I could be straight one day, and I still sometimes think that maybe one day,” Darren explains.
After Darren responded to just one of Perez’s Instagram videos, he began seeing more anti-gay ideologies and ex-gay stories, due to the nature of the algorithm showing him more of what he responds to. “It’s just thrust upon you when you least expect it,” he added.
For some people who have already undergone conversion therapy, including Darren, seeing conversion therapy content on social media brings up mixed emotions. “One day I’ll look at those videos and think, ‘Yes, they’re right. Society doesn’t get it because they’re not led by the Holy Spirit. They’re on a totally different wavelength than the Holy Spirit,'” he says.
“It feels like another stab in the heart and some days I can’t even bear to watch those videos.”
While Darren believes that many people who call themselves “ex-gay” don’t mean it with malicious intent, and that some are courageous enough to speak out about such a controversial issue, he worries that anti-LGBT church members could use these videos to try to “proselytize” queer people who are perfectly happy with who they are.
“The big danger to me is the hands into which these videos are falling,” Darren says. “Vulnerable young Christians who believe God may be speaking to them through these videos may be in danger of associating the frequency with watching these videos with some kind of divine plan.”
Nearly six years after undergoing conversion therapy, he still finds it painful and emotionally draining to talk about what he went through.
“I feel conflicted and confused. I’m still not satisfied or happy with my sexuality. I don’t even feel comfortable defining my sexuality, not in a progressive sense, because I don’t know what or who to believe anymore.”
After The Daily Beast presented TikTok with several videos, hashtags, and search terms that showed support for conversion therapy, they were permanently removed, and TikTok confirmed that it explicitly prohibits content that endorses or promotes conversion therapy programs.
Meanwhile, Instagram’s parent company, Meta, pointed to its advertising policy related to “unrealistic outcomes” when asked about the presence of content supporting conversion therapy on its platform. Meta did not remove any content from accounts featuring videos supporting conversion therapy. The hashtags #exgay and #exlgbt remain accessible on Instagram.
Samuel A. Perez did not respond to a request for comment.
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