by Yuriko Hime
bisexual (liking males and females) > lesbian. From further discussion with subject 2, I also realized that it could further transition from lesbian > transgender. Different people = different scenarios. Transition could be the wrong word, but it was the best I could come up with at the time of research.
Subject 3:
"Dude, put me as anonymous," subject 3 said. "And for the people around the table, don't judge me." After making sure that our lips were sealed and her anonymity was to remain intact, she began. "I started discovering who I was later than most, on the last years of college. A friend of mine invited me with another girl to go to her house. The day before, she saw her mom's porn stash and wanted to watch it with us. When the mom went off to work, we spent three continuous hours binging porn."
"Three hours?!" someone from our table said. "That's a lot of information to take in."
Subject 3 smiled wolfishly. "I should have felt something," she said. "My friends had silly expression on their faces when we were watching, so maybe they did. But you know what? It wasn't until the lesbian action scene that made me. . ." She drummed her hands on the table, leaning slightly back on her chair. "How should I say this? Wet?" The table roared with laughter. "I could never go back since that day." She winked. "And I learned lots of moves."
What I learned from subject 3 (may vary from person to person):
Recognition of one's sexuality could be by accident, a trigger, or something as normal as lusting after two women getting it on television, books, or other art forms.
With that said, we could only regard the three examples as one of the millions unaccounted for. There was no age or formula for this, only different experiences. I thanked everyone who participated by the end of the interview. After collecting the supplementary sheets, Lulu and I went back to our private table in the corner to have a discussion.
"You're unhappy," she began. The coffee in her mug was gone. Maybe that was why her full attention was on me.
I spun the recorder on the table. "What made you say so?" I asked.
She shrugged. "The twinkle in your eyes when you're satisfied is missing today." She handed me the questionnaires. "Why is Miss Roth in a bad mood? The subjects had great answers that people can relate to."
"I don't know," I said. "Something's just not right." I didn't know what it was. Maybe I wanted more. "How do you establish facts and conclusions, Lu? Give me the lowdown."
"Surveys," she said. Check. "Interviews." Double check. "Observations." Triple. "Research." Over and out. "Experimentation."
I banged my fist on the wood, just hard enough for the voice recorder to stop spinning. "That's what we've been missing. This," I slapped the papers on the table in front of her, "is not enough. I need validity. Our audience needs to be assured that we're doing everything to get facts."
She was doubtful as she leaned back on the chair. "You're sounding crazy again."
"They said the same thing about Leonardo when he invented the flying machine," I said. "Or when earlier people dissected a dead person to study anatomy. Or when they observed the constellations and the planetary movement to dispel the belief of the old. Or—"
"Okay," she said, giving up. "I know what you're pointing out. Shush." She sipped from my coffee cup. "What do you want me to do?"
"Give me a pen," I instructed.
She frowned. "I wasn't able to bring one. I've been borrowing from the shop. Wait a second." Lulu pushed her chair back and set for the counter. I used the time searching for a person who'd best fit the job. Two tables from ours was a brunette who looked like she'd been spending her free time at the gym. A female bodybuilder, you could say. I made quick calculations. From the place of contact, how long would it take to load? Her weight was manageable. We could make this work. "Back," Lulu said, brandishing the pen she borrowed from the counter to me.
Shuffling through the stacks of paper, I found an unanswered questionnaire, flipped it over, and started writing. I gave it to Lulu for review when I was done. "Experiment consent form," she read. Her eyes widened. "Experiment on what? A person?" I nodded solemnly. She read on.
"Have you heard of conversion therapy?" I asked, putting my hands together. "It had been done by scientific, government, and medical facilities in the past to create a change of sexual orientation. I've chosen a participant for this." I pointed to the brunette on the other table. "After asking her questions, I'll have her undergo a mini therapy. It's relatively safe. We'll have the best equipments."
Lulu put the paper down and slid it to me. "I'm not sure about this, Scottie." She nibbled on her bottom lip. "I've heard of the unconventional means they used to do in those therapy. There's a reason why people hated it. I don't see why we can't just get documents pertaining to this. And besides, your participant will never agree. Add to the fact that we're untrained and delusional."
"Relax," I assured. "It's not like we're going to electrocute her." Lulu gasped. I waved the silly notion away. "And the participant doesn't need to know everything."
"That's unethical," she argued.
"Scientists do it too."
"That doesn't mean it's right," she countered again.
"You trust in me, don't you?" I said. "It's not life threatening. I promise not to electrocute anyone. When it succeeds, we'll do more. If you don't like it, we can stop anytime. Deal?"
"I don't know about this." She was still reluctant, though by the way her shoulders rolled forward, I knew her conviction was slipping away.
I suspended a hand between us, banking on her inability to say no to me. "Shake on it, Lu," I said. Her hand was cold and clammy. "I know you have my back. Now go give this form to that lovely lady over there and hurry back here. I don't want to miss you that much." Lulu seriously needed to trust me more. When had I ever gotten us in deep trouble?
Chapter 18
So far, our methodologies for this study had been ordinary. Erratic as it was in sequence, for I did not follow the recommended step-by-step guide to keep everyone on their toes, the approach was still traditional. We would deviate from that a little. Just a little because human rights activists could become a potential problem.
What was I blabbering about, really? Remember Joe? We followed her in the course of a week to debunk some of the misconceptions about lesbians, correct? We would do something similar again, but with a minor variation. Our aim this time would be to answer two questions; Why did some lesbians and GBTQ in general feel the need to hide their sexuality? And was it wise to disregard conversion therapy?
A quick review for those who haven't heard of this. Conversion therapy was made by a group of people in hopes to alter the sexual orientation of LGBT into the much perceived "normal" heterosexual state. In short, people who supported it thought being lesbian or gay meant being crazy in the head, and the only way to cure it was to do the conversion therapy.
Just to be clear, while some people still argued about it, mental health organizations throughout the world have removed homosexuality as a mental disorder as of 1973-1990. Therefore, professionals agreed that being gay was NOT to be insane. No bias, just facts. Anyone who would argue could take it to the board. Not me. Hey, just saying.
Your brain still active with all the facts I've given? Good. We'd progress to the story now. My new participant would be named Nicky for the sake of anonymity. Following the night I saw her in the Midnight Cafe, we met again at the gym. She had just taken a shower and was looking happy enough to hear us out, so Lulu and I cornered her in the lobby and gave her the contract. The real one.
"This would help people understand a lot about us, right?" Nicky said, scanning through the five-page document I printed. Lulu wanted to make it look official. "Why the waiver though? It's making me feel nervous."
I sat on the bench beside her. "Don't be. The waiver is there to protect both parties, me and you. Like I told my colleague," I nudged my head to Lulu, "this is a safe experiment about conversion therapy. We want the audience to see for their own eyes if it works. The only thing
you should be concerned about is being introduced with lots of people in a week. Think of it like going to summer camp. It will be fun."
Her shoulders moved down as she exhaled. "You should have talked to my twin sister," she said. "She's the adventurous one, not me. She's also gay by the way."
"Really?" I said. "Coincidentally, I'm about to read a journal of a study concerning that. I'm interested about the relation between twins, how one could be gay while the other twin is straight. Anyhow, if you're going to sign the contract, please be doubly sure that you're allowing me and Lulu to do our thing. We can stop the experiment anytime, but in some stages, we would rather you go on, if you know what I mean."
Nicky's eyes bore on the blank space that would contain her signature. I haven't made a back-up plan in case she disagreed, so I was really hoping she'd consider the proposal. She took the pen from Lulu. "Oh what the hell," she murmured. "Let's do this." Nicky scribbled her name and signature on the paper and passed them back to me. "Tomorrow is my free day. We can meet anytime."
Tomorrow
"Since this is the first day of experimentation, we'll start with something easy," I said to Nicky. The two of us, with Lulu on the flank, were walking on the street on our way to a restaurant. "Conversion therapy nowadays, or at least the most recent ones they've been pushing, involves social skills training. What we're going to do is introduce you to a guy, and we'll see if you'll click from there."
Nicky adjusted her backpack self-consciously. I was pleased to see that she'd taken an effort to wear a dress and flats after I've instructed her over the phone. Buffer and toner as she was compared to other girls, the pink dress complemented her body type. "I don't think I'll fall in love with a guy after one date," she said. "Even after a million dates. That's not what being lesbian is. We're simply not attracted to males in that way."
"I know," I assured. "Lulu and I aren't forcing you. We're just checking the interaction, seeing how you vibe. Let me remind you, the date can be stopped anytime you wish. Here we are." The smell of cheese and sausage drifted on my nose upon opening the door of the restaurant. Nicky wasn't vegan. When I asked where she preferred to eat, she said wherever I wished to take her, so we settled for Italian. Waiting on a lone table in the corner I reserved was her date for the day, Todd.
"He's gorgeous," Lulu whispered to me. "Why couldn't you set me up with him?"
"He's not your type. And you're still in love with Casper even if you're pretending otherwise recently." I beamed at Todd.
He got up from his chair when we reached him and kissed me lightly on the cheek. To the two girls, he gave a small nod and said, "What's up?"
"We're good," I said. "By the way, Todd, this is Nicky, the woman I was telling you about. Nicky, he's Todd. We'll have you take it from here. Lulu and I will disappear for a while to give you privacy."
The sharp intake of breath from Nicky was music to my ears. I specifically chose Todd for her, one of Casper's friends who lived a few minutes from here. He was well-educated, well-mannered, and as a bonus, a huge health buff with a ripped body and muscles that told everyone what he like to do in his spare time. They'd have common ground.
An hour had gone by when Nicky texted us to meet outside the restaurant. Todd was nowhere to be found. "How did it go?" I said.
Nicky sported a wide grin, a flushed face, and had giggled at the question. "We exchanged numbers," she admitted. Lulu raised an eyebrow. "He's having a tournament next week for power lifting," Nicky went on. "I want to go so I can learn the right techniques. He's a really nice guy."
"Did you hit it off in that way?" I pried. "Anything romantic?"
She dropped the smile. "Romantic, no. Friendship, yes. I can't lie though. He's hot. But lesbians are people, and as people we know who's hot or not. That doesn't mean we're interested to sleep with them. It's like appreciating cute shoes from afar. Sometimes you know they're beautiful, but you won't buy them because they're not for you. See you tomorrow?"
Another tomorrow
"Prepare yourself," I said to Nicky. "The second phase of the conversion therapy is more aggressive. I need you to keep an open heart and a broader mind."
"Why? What is it?" she asked, following me and Lulu on the street. It was close to seven in the evening, about time that the meeting would start.
"We're entering the den of the enemy," Lulu explained. "They're not harmful, just over the top."
Nicky must have sensed that something would go down because she appeared more nervous the more we walked. Lulu tried to put her at ease by putting a hand around her waist, the same way that she'd do with mine when I was upset, which only happened when things didn't go as planned. Next to zero because I was great. Take that, Lynx, wherever you are. If being conceited was a crime, why did it always get me what I wanted? Uhh, just stop, Scotland. Now wasn't the time to think about her.
"Mind if I ask you something?" I said to Nicky. "You're out, but so many other gays and lesbians aren't. What's the reason?" I took out my recorder. It's been attached to me since day one.
Something in her expression changed. She looked more wary than before. Tired perhaps? Or maybe just frustrated. "Fear," she said. A simple word, yet the gravity behind it was tremendous. "Growing up gay didn't exactly come with a guide. There are too few books, and most of them either can't help you about it, or are missing the point because they were written by someone from the outside. That's why I consented to this experiment, because I want to help too." She sighed. "Most LGBT doesn't come out because we have this fear of being judged. Do you know what breaks our heart about that?"
"No," Lulu said sympathetically, voicing my thought.
Nicky frowned at the pavement while walking, as if the cracks there was the reason for her frustration. "The judgment comes from everyone we expect to help us," she said. "Our classmates, our best friends, the school teachers." Her eyes became glassy. "Our parents too. They're the first people who condemn us, in my experience. Aside from that, how can you come out to the world if you yourself don't understand what you are? If I tell them at thirteen years old that I'm showing interest with women, they'll tell me it's a phase."
I matched her steps so I could look at her more closely. "Isn't it?" I said. "I'm not meaning to be rude. I simply want to know why some women, after telling other people they're gay, can go back to being straight later in life."
Nicky flashed a half-smile. "They weren't lesbians in the first place, I think. They might be bisexual or confused with something else," she said. Good point. But as it was, we have arrived at our destination. I pointed to the building. Nicky took a deep breath and nodded, ready for the second phase.
Drums. The rhythmic, hypnotic sound of drums was the first thing I heard when we entered. First time visitors would think they were going to a large dance studio, but the hallway stretched on, leading to another room. That's where the sound of drums was coming from. The celebration didn't stop when we pushed the double doors open, though people at the back turned momentarily to stare at us. "Is Jordan here?" I asked the nearest woman. She was clapping with the others and had stopped at my question. "He's expecting us," I supplied.
Whispers from the people reached their leader. They parted to let him pass so he could go to us. It wasn't long when his bald spot glimmered under the light. "My guests," he said, opening his arms wide. "We shall begin the intervention. Please follow me." The cool air from the AC was heaven sent, though I could still smell a touch of perspiration from bodies swaying along the music. We were swallowed by the crowd as we walked with Jordan. He was tall, confident, charismatic from the way he talked on the phone when he agreed to do this, and had the stride of someone who knew what he was doing. Everything a leader should be. "Continue singing," he said to the people. To us he murmured, "Who?"
Lulu and I pushed a confused-looking Nicky forward. "Go along with it," I said to her.
"O-okay," she mumbled.
Jordan took one good look at our participant and wrapped a hand on her head
, like one might grip a basketball, not a person. "Do you believe you can be healed, child?" he asked.
Nicky tensed and glanced at us for support. "What the hell is this?" she said. The second phase was the prayer and group pressure. They would try to break down her walls to convert her. Crazy as it seemed, it happened in real life. It wasn't widely spread, but some groups were still practicing it in secret.
"Don't panic," I said.
"Alright, I trust you."
Jordan wasn't listening to her. He was more determined on giving her the "help" she needed. His hand started vibrating on her head. "In order for you to get better, you have to cast away the evil and let Him into your body," he said. "All those who think she needs to repent, say repent."
"Repent!" the crowd echoed. "Repent! Repent!" They edged closer.
I wasn't claustrophobic. Lulu, Casper, and I have been in situations where there were noises, shouting, and body slamming into each other. But the euphoria in the air tonight and the zombie-like chanting made an impact. Around us, people have turned into wolf-like entities, circling, closing in. This wasn't group pressure or therapy. It was a different kind of psychological bullying, pure and simple.
"Repent," they echoed.
An hour after the session, we were back outside, sweating, exchanging a bottled water between us three. "That was intense," Lulu said, her face taking on a greenish hue. I knew the feeling. My body was one lurch away from bending to the toilet bowl to empty my dinner.
Nicky dropped on the sidewalk and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm never going back there," she said. "Ever." I was sure that she wasn't converted with the process, and neither were the girls and boys who have undergone the same thing. "The only thing I felt was secondhand embarrassment, a need to escape, and hate for those people," she continued. "No wonder gays get messed up after being exposed to that for months. I would be too. Let's get out of here."