Imagine you are a 13 year old white
boy named John (or John's mom or dad) and you are seeing Dr. Thompson,
your psychiatrist, for the third time. Your parents had sent you to Dr.
Thompson because they thought you were using drugs. He has you on Prozac
which is helping you cope much the same way as marijuana had done. Actually
you are very depressed and Dr. Thompson is very trusting and seems genuinely
concerned about you, so you take the big step to get it off your chest.
You tell him that you had been sexually molested by a priest when you
were seven, and though it didn't bother you too much then, it does now
because everybody is talking about queers and homos. "Dr. Thompson,
am I a queer?" you sob. The good doctor assures you that you are a victim
of childhood sexual abuse; that you're not a homosexual; that you're no
different from other guys. After that visit though Dr. Thompson
seems keenly interested, almost fixated, in possibly any other sexual
traumas you may have experienced, especially any episodes with mom or
dad. And he is curious about sex with animals. You have to lay it all
out he tells you if you want him to help you get past it.
Everybody sings Zipidee Do Dah. One kid who seems to be a leader kid asks whether anybody has anything to say to you when all of a sudden everybody, I mean 200 kids, start undulating their bodies in wild contorted gyrations while flapping their arms. There is absolutely no sound in the room except for the flapping of their arms. It sounds like a thousand birds startled in an aviary by a circling hawk. They are all trying at once for a chance to correct you, to guide you. One by one those motivating the wildest are called upon to speak to you. As each one scolds you he tells you that he loves you. They tell you that in order to remain sober you have to write up and sign a statement that details your illegal drug use and your sex life. Sometimes they call the document a "moral inventory", other times it's a "chain of command" or a "dishonesty list." A boy hugs you and says, "I love you."
Ladies and gentlemen, you may have read Stanley Kubrick's terrifying futuristic novel about behavior modification-- A Clockwork Orange --but that was just a fantasy, a work of fiction. What I've just described actually happens. In America. If you replace the psychiatrist with a white, 16 year old high school dropout and throw in one hundred million dollars what you have is Straight, Incorporated. 50,000 kids treated. PTSD, shame and guilt, depression, mental illness, body carvings, countless suicide attempts, and suicide.