Activist Milo Yiannopoulos is now ‘Ex-Gay'

Milo Yiannopoulos, the gay man whose conservative messaging and willingness to speak the truth sparked riots on university campuses may well trigger more outrage now that he describes himself as “Ex-Gay” and “sodomy free. 

Two years ago,  Yiannopoulos was challenged to live a chaste life, Yiannopoulos was not defensive. Instead, he acquiesced, and humbly admitted his human weakness. I know everything you’re saying, and I’m just not there yet. And I don’t know if I’ll get there,” Yiannopoulos told Voris at the time. It seems that he has now arrived “there.” 

When I used to kid that I only became gay to torment my mother, I wasn’t entirely joking. Of course, I was never wholly at home in the gay lifestyle — Who is? Who could be? — and only leaned heavily into it in public because it drove liberals crazy to see a handsome, charismatic, intelligent gay man riotously celebrating conservative principles.

That’s not to say I didn’t throw myself enthusiastically into degeneracy of all kinds in my private life. I suppose I felt that’s all I deserved. I’d love to say it was all an act, and I’ve been straight this whole time, but even I don’t have that kind of commitment to performance art. Talk about method acting

Four years ago, I gave an interview to America magazine which they declined to print. It’s taken me a long time to live up to the claims I made in that interview, but I am finally doing it.

Anyone who’s read me closely over the past decade must surely have seen this coming. I wasn’t shy about dropping hints. In my New York Times-bestselling book Dangerous, I heavily hinted I might be “coming out” as straight in the future. And in my recent stream-of-consciousness Telegram feed, I’ve been even more explicit — stomach-churningly so, if the comments under my “x days without sodomy” posts are anything to go by.

I’ve always thought of myself as a Jack Bauer sort of figure — the guy who does the hideous, inexcusable things no one else can stomach, without which the Republic will fall. I know that means my name will always be cursed, and I’ll always be a scorned outsider, so the temptation is to throw out any consideration of living well or truthfully. But even Jack Bauer has to confront his maker sooner or later.  No, and I don’t suppose I’ll ever be brave enough to declare it a thing of the past. I treat it like an addiction. You never stop being an alcoholic. As for the CHANGED movement, I guess because they’re Californian they don’t see how funny their website is, or maybe they’re dirty non-doms who think God loves you more the gayer you act, but I was slightly making fun of them with that caption. 

Someone really ought to tell them to use more heterosexual-looking photos on their website. I can share some tips! My followers have been giving me a crash course in all-American straight guy aesthetics, which apparently include growing a mullet and learning to drive stick.

Well, the guy I live with has been demoted to housemate, which hasn’t been easy for either of us. It helps that I can still just about afford to keep him in Givenchy and a new Porsche every year. Could be worse for him, I guess.

My own life has changed dramatically, though it crept up on me while I wasn’t paying attention. I’m someone who responds to micromanagement and accountability, so I’ve found counting days an effective bulwark against sin. In the last 250 days I’ve only slipped once, which is a lot better than I predicted I would do.

It feels as though a veil has been lifted in my house — like there’s something more real and honest going on than before. It’s been a gradual uncovering, rather than a dramatic reveal. Maybe that lack of theater or spectacle is a sign the gay impulses truly are receding?

The best metaphor I know is that of a flower blooming — of nature’s Epiphany — an image I know Caryll Houselander was fond of. I think it was Houselander who said, “Whatever is loving in man and whatever is lovable in man is Christ in man.” I take this to mean that the more love and the less lust in us, the more we cease to obscure Christ and instead reveal Him, in whose image we are made.

I don’t mean to suggest it’s been easy, just simple: Our Lord endured worse than any of us and in God’s time, redeem us.

The best advice I can give others in my situation is: Check your pride, not your privilege. So often it’s vanity or conceit or self-satisfaction that gets in the way of accepting Christ. Learn to catch it before it takes root, and difficult things suddenly don’t seem so difficult.

Secular attempts at recovery from sin are either temporary or completely ineffective. Salvation can only be achieved through devotion to Christ. 

In this time of gender madness, and a rejection of the Terror of transsexuals they need Jesus to repent and find normality. Trannies are demonic: They are the Galli, the castrated priests of Cybele, whom Augustine saw dancing in the streets of Carthage dressed like women.

Don’t even get me started on Drag Queen Story Hour. I only have to see those four words to be overwhelmed by the urge to buy a rope.

I have enjoyed a lifelong affection for the absurd and the outrageous, so part of me gleefully anticipates the day I can seize the moral high ground, however briefly, to denounce others for failures of piety and sobriety. I hope people will support and pray for me, if for no other reason than they share my delight at the prospect of Milo Yiannopoulos furiously and indignantly railing against homosexuals for sins of the flesh.

As you might expect, my professional priorities are shifting somewhat, given my new spiritual preoccupations. Over the next decade, I would like to help rehabilitate what the media calls “conversion therapy.” It does work, albeit not for everybody. As for my other aspirations and plans, well, no change: I’ve always considered abortion to be the pre-eminent moral horror of human history. I’ll keep saying so — even more loudly than before.

They say if you let one sin in, others will follow, and now I truly know what that means: As I’ve begun to resist sinful sexual urges, I’ve found myself drinking less, smoking less … you name it. I confess my weakness for designer shoes and handbags is yet to dissipate. But I am coming to realize, however slowly, that lust — per Augustine — is disordered desire for all sorts of things.