Praying the gay away didn't work, but loving myself did

Growing up in Marietta, Georgia, my family belonged to the Southern Baptist fundamentalist church. We went to church every Sunday morning and Wednesday night. The Bible and the surrounding religious community shaped my identity. Christianity, God, Jesus, and the church were always very important to me. I read my Bible every day and prayed constantly. I took religion very seriously, and anything else felt secondary.

In middle and high school, I attended a private Christian school. While I was there, there was a student who got kicked out for being gay. At the time, I suspected I was gay but wasn’t sure. After the student was kicked out, I was certain that being gay was dangerous because it meant losing everything.

I didn’t have anyone to talk to about what I was experiencing. I couldn’t talk to my parents, my siblings, or anyone at church about being gay. I lived most of my childhood and teenage years stuck in my head. Being told that gay was vile, disgusting, and perverted led to a toxic self-image that nearly killed me.

I wanted more than anything in the world not to be gay. I tried dating girls; I tried changing the clothes I wore; I changed my voice and tried to talk “straight”; I changed the way I walked. I even stopped creating music because I was afraid that being creative made me look gay. And I tried to pray the gay away constantly.

Religious leaders said that being gay is a choice and that if gay people wanted to, they could change. They pointed to conversion therapies, such as Exodus International, Love Won Out, and so many other organizations making outlandish promises with no evidence. But I still believed them.

I tried to change and reject this part of me, but I began to experience crippling anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. I would wake up every morning and think, “Shit. Another day.” I would look in the mirror and hate what I saw. I would pray earnestly, begging God to listen to me, to take this thing away from me. I hated myself because I was taught to hate myself.

I knew I needed a change because I couldn’t keep going. So, I made some radical life changes. I started going to therapy and doing research for answers to what the church said about being gay. I quickly learned that I wasn’t the only queer person who experienced crippling anxiety, depression, and self-loathing when trying to change.

I started meeting other gay Christians and realized that there are many others; a conference I went to included thousands of other queer Christians going through similar experiences. I wasn’t alone.

I started feeling more comfortable in my skin and started dating. I decided to come out to my family, my close friends, and people at the church I went to. And that’s when my life fell apart. I lost housing. I lost my job at the church. I lost so many friends. I lost my sense of belonging. It was the worst experience I have ever gone through, and I spent so many years afterward trying to numb myself.

I hear so many stories of gay kids coming out to family and friends and everyone accepting them. And honestly, I’m jealous. That wasn’t my experience.

I didn’t lose my faith in God; I lost my faith in people. I never returned to church and left Georgia for California to start a new life there.

I moved at the beginning of 2020, right before the pandemic. I was isolated and facing everything I had just experienced. But then I realized the only person I would spend my entire life with was myself, so it would be much easier if I liked myself. After all the years of internalized homophobia and no self-esteem, that was a challenge.

Trusting oneself while on a healing journey is a moment-to-moment learning experience.

During this process, I heard lyrics and melodies in my head—whispers at first, but slowly growing into full songs, coming out of me without a choice. I began writing these ideas down, slowly forming them into a cohesive work.

My creativity returned. I wrote music of self-acceptance, rejection, isolation, confusion, and inner peace and resilience.

There are countless queer (and straight) people I have met who used to be religious and left because of hatred and homophobia. There are so many ex-religious queer artists on the rise – Maddie Zahm, Semler, Katie Pruitt, and Adaline, to name a few. And more keep showing up.

If you are experiencing anything similar to my story, know you’re not alone. Healing, freedom, and joy are possible.

It’s been such an honor to create new family and friends, new memories, and discover new things about myself and the world around me. Yes, it’s difficult, and some days are very challenging. But I promise that healing is possible for everyone. Living authentically, no matter the cost, is worth it.

Jonathan Thomas Maioccois a music producer, film composer, recording artist, and stand-up comedian in Los Angeles, CA. You can find his music on Spotify and follow him @jonathanthomasmaiocco.

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