I force myself, and as a convinced atheist, I pray with him. After the moment of reflection, Don Giacomo, with the same gentleness, invites me to continue my story. "Your relationship with Luca," he asks, "was it passive or just active?" Don Giacomo wants to know whether I have "undergone" penetration or not. That alone must be the fundamental criterion for understanding whether someone is truly homosexual. "Active and passive," I blurt out. "And I even liked it," I reply almost defiantly, faced with such a vulgar question. Vulgar not because of the question itself, but rather because for the first time I'm beginning to glimpse—or so it seems to me—the true thoughts of that young and friendly priest. A glimpse that unmasks his judgment of me, or rather, of "those like me.".
Don Giacomo nods sternly and then asks me to tell him about other relationships. Then I bring up a brief relationship with another man that was "consummated" after marriage. Don Giacomo invites me to share the feelings I had. I invent a "feeling of moral filth" that I still experience and carry within me. The young priest is silent. He blesses me and reassures me. "Your homosexuality," he says, "is very superficial. I believe you are ready to begin the journey of healing.".
At that point, I'm the one who asks a few questions and seeks clarification on what he calls the "path." Don Giacomo explains to me, roughly, that almost all homosexuals have experienced trauma or something similar that has interrupted the "natural" construction of their true sexual identity. "For this," he says, "reparative therapies are needed. To reclaim that experience, find the fracture, and redefine your gender identity. You're in a state of sexual confusion; you need help to redefine your sexuality correctly." Perfect, I'm ready to begin the "path." Don Giacomo takes a piece of paper and writes down Professor Tonino Cantelmi's phone number and address, "Call him in a week, tell him I sent you, he'll already know everything." He blesses me and dismisses me.
The first meeting with Professor Cantelmi
The office of Professor Tonino Cantelmi—President of the Institute of Interpersonal Cognitive Therapy, it says on his nameplate—is a seaport where the worries and anxieties of various human beings pass through and land: children, adolescents, mothers, grandmothers. There's a bit of everything in that office. I sit down and wait to be called. He, the professor, occasionally comes out and greets the patient on duty. He has a very close relationship with everyone; everyone calls him Tonino. Finally, my moment arrives. I gather my thoughts to avoid contradicting myself with the story I told Don Giacomo a few weeks earlier. I review the outline, the invented names of my fake lovers, and slip into the Professor's office. He looks me over, smiles, and invites me to sit down. "I'm Davide," I tell him, "Don Giacomo sent me." He nods—"with that name he classified me as a repentant homosexual," I think to myself—and invites me to tell my story. At that point I start again with the high school story, my relationship with my classmate and my fears about my marriage after another relationship I had with a boy a couple of years ago.
""What kind of relationships have you had?" Cantelmi asks me.
I pretend not to understand.
""I mean," the Professor continues, "have you had full intercourse?".
I nod, but wait for the professor to emerge from his lair and ask me the question, the question with a capital Q, directly. And he doesn't disappoint: "So, Davide," he says frankly, "have you also been passive in your relationships?".
Here we go again, I think to myself. "Yes," I reply. I decide to play it cool. On the one hand, because I'm afraid of contradicting myself, on the other, because I want to see the professor's skills in action. I'm curious to understand how he moves. How he works. But he surprises me, and after that single answer, ready to get rid of me, he takes a pen and paper and writes down the name of a colleague: "This is Dr. Cacace," he says as he hands me the note. "She's my assistant, contact her on my behalf. She'll already know everything." I feel like I'm rewatching a movie I've already seen. However, I don't want to miss the opportunity to meet the Italian "guru" of gay healers, so I raise the stakes before he dismisses me. "Listen, doctor," I tell him with the utmost politeness, "I'd like to understand exactly what to expect." "Nothing in particular," he says. "The doctor will give you a test...""
""A test?" I echo.
""Yes, a test""
""A test to measure my degree of homosexuality?" I insist.
"Well! In a way, yes," he says.
""Excuse me," I ask, "but what exactly is homosexuality?""
At that point, Cantelmi sits down, stretches his arms across the table, and begins: "I," he begins, "would like to talk about your homosexuality, not about homosexuality in general. Let's say we're a group of psychologists who try to help people in difficulty. Ours is a reparative therapy.""
Reparative Therapy: Homosexuality as Communism
These miracle workers of deviant sex have long been rumored. A trend that's becoming popular in North America thanks to the work of many groups linked to the Church, and which follows the teachings and practices of Joseph Nicolosi, president of NARTH, the National Association for Research and Therapy of Homosexuality. A clinical psychologist, Joseph Nicolosi, a "holy man" who boasts 500 cases of "treated" and cured gay men—yes, "treated gay men"—and who has pulled from the hat of his own psychiatric witchcraft the so-called "reparative therapy," whose stated purpose is "to bring homosexual people back to a heterosexual orientation." This message has been taken up and relaunched in Italy by Professor Tonino Cantelmi, president and founder of the Italian Association of Catholic Psychologists and Psychiatrists and professor of psychology at the Gregorian University. In short, the Italian guru of reparative therapy, a person with close ties to the Vatican and around whom a working group of five or six young psychologists has formed who follow the individual therapies of future and "repaired" heterosexuals.
Reparative therapy is a long story. As early as 2005, Gay Pride magazine published a lengthy article questioning its validity and scientific reliability. Franco Grillini, honorary president of Arcigay, even submitted a parliamentary question to block reparative therapy through professional associations. This is also why
Someone like JM van den Aardweg, the American psychotherapist who wrote "Homosexuality & Hope," talks about a gay lobby attacking scientific evidence. Just to understand the underlying motivations behind this supposed reparative therapy, van den Aardweg himself claims—as he did in a recent interview for "Acquaviva2000, cultura cattolica in rete"—that many homosexuals "have serious mental disorders, or have developed homosexual behavior of such proportions that it wouldn't be so wrong to call them 'sick.'" Furthermore, van den Aardweg is convinced that because of the gay movement, "the masses will never fully assimilate the unnatural conception imposed on them. It will be like communism. Many, probably most, will lend the unnatural homosexual 'religion' a formal cult, dictated by fear, but people will end up believing in it less and less.".
These are the illustrious scientists who advocate reparative therapy. The slogans of the aforementioned ultra-Catholic group "Objective Chaire" are even more explicit: "Spiritual, psychological, and medical support; attention to parents, teachers, and educators to prevent the onset of homosexual tendencies in children, adolescents, and young people; research into the causes (spiritual, psychological, cultural, historical) that contribute to the spread of attitudes contrary to natural law, recognizable by properly formed reason.".
Then there's the ever-present Joseph Nicolosi, the American clinical psychologist who invented reparative therapy. He'll be in Italy in a few days to update his followers and presumably illustrate the latest developments in his therapy. These are the basic ideas: first, in light of social sciences, the ideal family form for promoting healthy child development is the traditional model of heterosexual marriage; second, sexual identity is formed at an early age based on "biological, psychological, and social factors"; third, there are numerous examples of people who have successfully changed their behavior, identity, sexual urges, or fantasies.
In support of these theses, "ex-gay" movements have emerged, consisting of "sheltered" people, often converts to Catholicism, whose stated goal is to demonstrate that it is possible to "heal" from homosexuality. The funny thing is that more and more "ex-gay" groups are being disbanded because many of their members have found a same-sex partner within that organization.
Cantelmi's Reparative Therapy
Cantelmi tries to adapt the rationale for that therapy to me, to my case. He talks about childhood traumas that generate confusion in a world already full of contradictions and fluidity in interpersonal relationships. All this to explain that, in a certain sense, homosexual behaviors are induced by this external schizophrenia. And not just homosexuals, though. Professor Cantelmi is convinced, and he explains it to me, that our era is characterized by widespread sexual compulsiveness: an addiction that affects thousands of people, including many, many young people. He speaks to me of "sick relationships with sex," of "loss of control," and so on.
""And in all of this, homosexuality?" I ask.
""Well, my office is full. We have a line. There are hundreds of kids asking for help.".
""You see," I say, trying to flush him out, "I'm not sure if I'm gay. I don't know if I'm suffering from some sort of mental disorder or if I have to indulge these urges of mine.".
""Don't worry, Davide," he says, smiling calmly. "From your profile, I can tell you're suffering from generalized anxiety and a mild neurosis that's somehow affecting and distorting your sexual choices. We'll get tested now, and we'll have more information to help us choose the best treatment.".
The Test and the Professor's Disciples and the Cure
Dr. Cristina Cacace of the Institute of Interpersonal Cognitive Therapy directed by Cantelmi welcomes me with a smile into her office. She observes me, or rather, scrutinizes me insistently. "Now she'll catch me," I think, "she'll find out I'm an infiltrator and kick me out." But no. Evidently, Professor Cantelmi's diagnosis must have influenced me. A bit neurotic, persecuted, I truly feel that way. The fact is, she kindly invites me into her Ikea-style office, sits me down, and asks me:
Name, surname, age, address, telephone number, and marital status. I answer without hesitation and wait, here too, for "the" question. But Dr. Cacace already knows, and there's no need for any preamble.
Let's jump straight to the more intimate details: how many times, and to what extent. "To what extent, in what sense?" I ask. She smiles. I wonder if she, a young psychologist, truly believes in the madness and violence of this blessed "reparative therapy," or if she's only there in that small office because she can't find anything better. But my thoughts are interrupted by the doctor's question: "Davide, have your homosexual relationships been only active or also passive?" I feel a strong sense of unease at the sight of that recurring, obsessive question. I'm reminded of the prurient, voyeuristic side of the person asking it. Finally, I answer as I already answered Don Giacomo and Professor Cantelmi: "Yes, active and passive." Then I also tell her about my conflicted relationship with my mother, about my father's absences, and I add that sometimes, as a child, I was mistaken for a girl. Cantelmi's young assistant nods gravely and schedules my appointment for the personality test. "After the test," she says before walking me out the door, "we'll know better how to handle your situation.".
A few days later, I'm back there and discover the test lasts about four hours and is none other than the so-called "Minnesota Test," the one used by militaries around the world to select their personnel. Some six hundred questions are supposed to reveal potential aversions in the candidate: hypochondria, depression, hysteria, psychopathic deviation, masculinity or femininity, paranoia, psychasthenia, schizophrenia, hypomania, and social introversion. A potpourri that, among other things, is supposed to highlight my homosexual tendencies. Anyway, the doctor gives me the papers, a pen, and stands me in the hallway. I start scanning the questions: "Have you had any very strange experiences?"; or, "Would you like to be a florist?" To the latter, I answer yes, driven by the banality of the question; perhaps those who choose to be florist, in their opinion, have a predisposition to becoming a bit of a queer.
Suddenly, I'm struck and distracted by the silent presence of a woman and a young teenager. They are a mother and son. He seems particularly shy, uncomfortable. I can't know, but he could very well be a boy forced by his mother to curb, at least while there's time, his "own homosexual deviance." I think again about how narrow this practice is and how much violence it entails. I think about sexual pressure. The parents' often well-intentioned concern and the choice to do something to stop that "discovery" rather than embrace and support it. Then the woman and the boy slip into one of the many rooms in Cantelmi's students' studio, and I return to my never-ending test: "Have you ever engaged in unusual sexual practices?"; "Did you like to play with dolls?"; "Is someone controlling your mind?"; "Do you often have the desire to be the opposite sex?"; "Should the man be the head of the family?"...
Once I've finished asking questions, I go back to the doctor's room.
She puts away my paperwork, which already contains the results of my "degree of homosexuality," and pulls out a dozen colored cards with bizarre figures. They are the blots of the Rorschach test. Indefinite splashes of color, which act unconsciously, triggering projective reactions. In short, faced with those blots, I'm invited to trace and communicate sensible figures. I dive in, straining to see penises, vaginas, anuses, and so on. I even spot a couple of fetuses hanging by their umbilical cords. I give it my all, trying to convince Dr. Cacace that my sexuality is particularly deviant, so corrupt and homosexual that it deserves her treatment. But she, faced with my genital ramblings, doesn't flinch: she pulls out the test cards one by one and diligently takes notes.
Meanwhile, she approaches me, and I can't resist a quick glance at her cleavage. She, surprised, pulls back, covers herself, and looks at me embarrassed. In short, after all that talk about my homosexuality, I've probably fallen into the banality of wanting to reaffirm my "masculinity" in front of a woman. For the first time, in a certain sense, I experience firsthand the force and violence of the social and cultural conditioning that gay people experience. Then, I get back to my figures...
Test results: How gay am I?
""Not much, your homosexuality is really subtle," Dr. Cacace tells me, showing me the twenty or so pages containing my "diagnosis." "Subtle homosexuality," exactly. At that point I ask for more explanation. "So, I'd say we're dealing with a neurosis that has led to a sexual deviation," she continues. "Professor Cantelmi will explain further.".
A few days later, I'm back in the professor's waiting room. The feeling is the same: a port open to all "human cases." Cantelmi, courteous and welcoming as ever, leafs through my test results and tells me about "mild neurosis and depression" that led to my sexual deviation, my departure from the path of a healthy and conscious sexuality. "You're not exactly homosexual," he tells me. "Your concerns seem more like a concern stemming from some childhood experiences." Then he launches into the conflict with my mother and the absence of my father, a completely invented one, which deprived me of a strong male figure, a role model on which I should have modeled my sexuality and defined my gender. So, I'm not entirely homosexual.
Perhaps therapy has already begun. Denying my homosexuality is the first step toward "healing." It's probably a way to begin dismantling the "patient's" belief. Hearing someone say, "You're not really homosexual," perhaps means beginning to deconstruct the individual's personality, their beliefs, and confronting them with the fact—a fact certified by a psychologist—that their homosexuality never existed. Indeed, that homosexuality itself doesn't exist except as a deviation from the norm, the only real norm: heterosexuality.
""At this point," the professor continues, "it's a matter of re-examining those fractures and overcoming them through appropriate therapy.".
""What kind of therapy?" I ask. "Individual therapy. I'll have an assistant overseeing you, but I—he reassures me—will be constantly updated on your progress." "But I knew about self-help groups, I thought he'd put me there." "There are groups," he tells me, "but they're for people with severe sexual deviance. I don't think it's the best therapy for your condition. I don't know, we'll see.".
I don't give up and try to find out what happens inside those groups. "They are groups of people guided by psychotherapists who share their experiences on a healing journey," Cantelmi adds hastily. Then he gets up, gives me the phone number of yet another psychologist, obviously another assistant, and gives me a book: "Beyond Homosexuality" by Joseph Nicolosi.
Nicolosi, yes, the guru of healers, the creator of reparative therapy, the one who boasts 500 cases of "treated"—or rather, repaired—gays. "Read it," he tells me, "you'll find situations similar to yours. People like you who have made it.".
Nicolosi's book
"Beyond Homosexuality" by Joseph Nicolosi is a collection of life stories. Eight stories of mended, repaired homosexuals, and a final appendix on the modalities of therapy. Among them is Albert, a thirty-year-old who "speaks in a slightly effeminate tone and with a nostalgia," Nicolosi emphasizes, "for a lost child." And indeed, Albert's problem, Nicolosi recounts in his book, is precisely his attachment to the lost world of childhood. This illustrates the recurring characteristics of homosexual people: a detached attraction to their own body, early sexual experiences with other children, hypermasturbation—"homosexuals," Nicolosi explains, "masturb more often than heterosexuals: it's an attempt to establish ritual contact with the penis"—and an oppressive mother figure. At that point, Dr. Nicolosi's goal is to "develop a more solid sense of masculinity" in Albert. How? First of all, by freeing himself from the oppressive maternal bond, cultivating non-sexual male friendships, and engaging in sexual activity. Long bike rides. Long bike rides, yes. Finally, the first progress arrives: Albert manages to control his masturbation, he distances himself from his mother, he stops attacking his friend, and he continues to ride his bike around the neighborhood. "Really good things are happening to her," the doctor confides to Albert. Three years later, Albert has a confident voice, all feminine inflections are gone, he has "detached himself emotionally from other males and from masculinity," and he has freed himself from maternal control: the original guilt, the cause of his homosexuality; Albert has even gotten engaged to a girl. In short, he is healed. And he is healed because "he has grasped," comments Nicolosi, "the concept of the false self": the false gay identity that the outside world imposes on you. "No, I'm not gay," is Albert's last comment before beginning his new life as a heterosexual.
Another interesting story told by Nicolosi is that of Tom: "An extraordinarily handsome man, about 1.80 m tall, blue eyes, and well-dressed." (Who knows, perhaps Nicolosi also betrays a homosexual tendency: the gay healer who discovers he's gay, a classic we've seen a thousand times before.) Tom is married, but separated because of an affair with another man: "Andy, an irresistible twenty-four-year-old." Nicolosi is clear with Tom: "If you want to divorce your wife and start a new life with your gay lover, I won't follow you." The fact is, Tom feels empty without his wife and children and doesn't know how to present himself in society, how to come out as gay.
A couple of good reasons to begin reparative therapy. The fact is that, at least for Nicolosi, Tom is an anomalous homosexual: "He has no problems asserting himself with other men, in business he is decisive and resolute, and he is extroverted. But underneath," Nicolosi reveals, "he has the emotional fragility typical of homosexuals." In short, Tom is terribly afraid of losing his wife and children and finding himself alone because "homosexual relationships have no future." Then Nicolosi meets Tom's wife, who is fully committed to working together to get her husband back on the right path. The work is successful, but the scars of homosexuality have left their indelible mark: Tom is HIV-positive and soon dies. Nicolosi's message, or rather, his warning, is all too clear: be careful, homosexuality can be cured, but it can also lead to death.
Healing trials
When I return to Professor Cantelmi's office, I discover that my recovery is in the hands of one of his very young assistants. He, too, leafs through my test results and begins to discuss the journey ahead. "We'll revisit the conflict with your mother, your father's absence, trying to heal the fractures that created the confusion.".
""Confusion?""
""Yes, of course, gender confusion. But first, Davide," the young doctor continues, "tell me about your homosexual experiences." For the fourth time, I find myself talking about my high school classmate and recounting my fears about my marriage. But the Question arrives: "Davide, were your sexual encounters complete?" "Do you want to know if I took it in the ass, doctor? Yes, twice," I reply, annoyed. He smiles embarrassed. But that's actually what he wanted to know. Then he recovers and attacks. "I'd also like to know what sensations you felt." On the verge of exhaustion from those repetitive, low-level questions, I launch into an endless loop. I tell him, I invent, every detail. I tell him about the excitement of male homosexual intercourse, the sense of transgression, and I recall some particularly suggestive and "scabrous" passages described by one of the patients in Nicolosi's book. He buys it all and diligently takes notes. I finally offered him the "sick" person in me and he seemed visibly satisfied.
I'm starting to feel nauseous. Nauseous for Don Giacomo, for Professor Cantelmi, and for his young assistants. Six months have passed since my first meeting, and at this point I feel like I can't take it anymore. I realize that in this long time we've only talked about my behind. For the first time, I realize that none of them has ever asked me if I've ever fallen in love with a man. No one has ever wanted to know how I feel about homosexual relationships. Is it possible that all they care about is the number of penetrations I've "undergone"? The young psychologist schedules me a new appointment. I say goodbye and disappear. I'll never set foot in that office again. I know enough about it now.
