For LGBTQ+ people in the U.S., the road towards liberation has been long, circuitous, dark, and dangerous, and those who have organized and fought for equality often were forced to do so from the safety of the shadows. A new documentary, Cured, making its broadcast premiere on PBS’s Independent Lens series, brings to light a little-known chapter of that struggle, when committed activists stepped out of the shadows to loudly and publicly resist an institution that used fear and ignorance to justify treating queer people as second-class citizens.
It was in 1952 that the American Psychiatric Association (APA) listed homosexuality as a mental disorder in the first edition of its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). Adding to the public sentiment that gays and lesbians weren’t just different, but were morally deficient, the DSM listing provided a clinical basis for denying queer people basic human rights, from jobs and housing to education and even custody of their children.
Labeling LGBTQ people as “psychologically disturbed” implicitly upheld the discrimination that made it next to impossible for them to live freely and openly. Even worse, the mental illness diagnosis led to thousands of gays and lesbians being committed to mental institutions, or forced into varying forms of therapy, including electroshock treatments, and in some extreme cases, full or partial lobotomies.
But, as one gay activist argues in Cured, it was this very treatment that posed the greatest danger to his mental health. Gay and lesbian leaders like the late Dr. Frank Kameny, Barbara Gittings, and Kay Lahusen rose up, determined to see homosexuality removed from the DSM listings.
Among the surviving activists interviewed for the film who led the fight, the Reverend Magora Kennedy details how their efforts coalesced around the burgeoning civil rights and feminist movements, while Dr. Charles Silverstein recounts his personal path towards rebellion as a then-schoolteacher who sought psychiatric treatment for years in search of a “cure” for his same-sex attraction.
In the words of Sigmund Freud, there was no cure, as homosexuality was not an illness. It was “no advantage, but nothing to be ashamed of,” he wrote, decades before the DSM was even published. In 1973, the APA decided to remove the listing from the DSM.
“Millions were cured with the stroke of a pen,” says psychiatrist Dr. Richard Green. And, as Cured co-director Bennett Singer points out, “Even though this is a story from history, its lessons remain profoundly relevant today. This is a film about the process of bringing about lasting, systemic social change.”
Cured premieres October 11, National Coming Out Day, on PBS Independent Lens. Visit www.pbs.com.
Denzel Washington revealed that a scene in which he kisses another male actor was cut from the final version of the movie Ridley Scott's upcoming Gladiator II.
The Oscar-winning actor plays Macrinus, an ambitious, wealthy Roman businessman who is presumed to be bisexual in the film.
"I kissed the man in the film but they took it . I think they got chicken," he told Gayety. "I kissed a guy full on the lips, and I guess they weren’t ready for that yet."
The gesture, at least in the context of the movie's plot, was not a romantic one, but more of a sealing of one's fate.
Sometimes, a book or movie or play speaks so directly to the zeitgeist, it's as if the artists are responding in real-time to a conversation we're all having. That's the case with John Leguizamo's The Other Americans, currently in its world-premiere run at Arena Stage. In the aftermath of the presidential election, amid feverish appraisals of Latino voters' support for Trump, this modern-day tragedy about a Queens Latino family fraying at the edges arrives at a moment of perfect relevance.
Offering insight into the struggles of son-of-an-immigrant laundromat owner Nelson Castro -- portrayed by Leguizamo, whose own family immigrated to the U.S. from Colombia when he was three -- the play also tackles everything from mental health to housing discrimination.
Luther: Never Too Much is set for a TV and streaming premiere in 2025, but Luther Vandross lovers and other aficionados of R&B are best served by seeing this music-filled documentary, directed by the prolific Dawn Porter (John Lewis: Good Trouble), while it's in theaters, on a big screen with big sound.
Among real Luther fans -- some of whom will invariably, and understandably, feel compelled to sing along to the film's prime performance clips -- one might experience the powerful currents of emotion transmitted through the late singer-songwriter's voice and music. "I can't think of anybody that is near to him," says Mariah Carey, praising his tone, uniqueness, and talent.
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