Wilton Manors Fights Back Against Conversion Therapy

The fluorescent lights in the Wilton Manors city commission chambers flickered on a Tuesday evening in late fall, casting a sallow glow over the dozen residents seated in folding chairs. One of them—a man in his sixties with a worn leather portfolio—stood to speak about his grandson. The boy had been sent to a conversion therapist at age fourteen by his parents, who believed his sexuality was a disease that could be cured. Thirteen years later, the man said, his grandson still hadn't recovered from the trauma. He was asking the commission to ban the practice in Wilton Manors. This is not an abstract debate about religious freedom or parental rights. This is about what happens in therapy offices on NE 26th Street and in church basements across Wilton Manors when vulnerable teenagers are told that who they are is broken. Conversion therapy—the scientifically debunked practice of attempting to change someone's sexual orientation or gender identity through psychological or spiritual intervention—remains legal in Florida. It remains legal in Broward County. And it remains legal in Wilton Manors, despite the town's reputation as an LGBTQ-friendly enclave. That contradiction is precisely what sparked the current push for a local ordinance. The movement began quietly in September, when a coalition of local residents and advocates approached the city commission with a proposal to prohibit licensed mental health professionals from practicing conversion therapy on minors. The coalition included therapists, parents, and survivors. Dr. Carmine Pecoraro PsyD. & Associates, located at 1881 NE 26th St, has already signaled support for the ban, according to sources familiar with the discussions. The psychology practice has made clear that conversion therapy runs counter to established clinical standards and causes documented harm. But the proposal immediately triggered organized opposition from religious groups operating in the area. A pastor from a nondenominational church in Wilton Manors began circulating a petition claiming that a ban would "infringe on religious counseling" and "prevent parents from seeking faith-based guidance for their children." The language is familiar to anyone following these fights in other cities. It's also misleading. The ordinance as drafted would not prevent religious counseling. It would only prohibit licensed mental health professionals from attempting to change a minor's sexual orientation or gender identity—a distinction that matters legally and morally. Wilton Manors has a population of roughly 12,500 people, and the town punches well above its weight in local LGBTQ politics. The annual Stonewall Pride Fest draws thousands. The town's business district on Wilton Drive has long attracted LGBTQ entrepreneurs and residents. City commissioners have historically been responsive to LGBTQ concerns. But that responsiveness has limits, and conversion therapy is testing them. At a November city commission meeting, the debate became heated. One resident, a woman whose daughter had been enrolled in conversion therapy as a teenager, described the psychological fallout: depression, suicidal ideation, a years-long struggle to rebuild self-worth. She spoke about sitting in waiting rooms while her daughter was inside being told she was abnormal, that prayer and behavioral modification could fix her. She spoke about the bills that followed—not just for the therapy itself, but for the subsequent years of actual mental health treatment needed to undo the damage. A representative from a local evangelical church countered that the ordinance was an attack on religious liberty and parental authority. He did not dispute that conversion therapy is harmful. Instead, he argued that harm to a child is acceptable if it's inflicted in service of religious belief. The commission listened without interrupting. No one challenged him. This is where Wilton Manors stands now: caught between its identity as a gay-friendly town and its obligation to protect the rights of religious groups operating within its borders. The city commission has not yet voted on the ordinance. It has not scheduled a vote. Sources close to the process suggest that at least one commissioner is hesitant to move forward, worried about legal challenges and the political cost of antagonizing religious voters. The delay is its own kind of harm. Every month that passes is another month that a therapist licensed in Wilton Manors could legally tell a child that their sexuality is a problem to be solved. Every month is another month that a parent could sign a consent form and deposit their child into a room with someone trained to inflict psychological damage under the guise of treatment. Other Florida cities have moved faster. Tampa banned conversion therapy in 2018. Key West followed in 2019. Broward County itself enacted a ban in 2020. Wilton Manors, the gay capital of South Florida, lags behind towns and counties that lack its LGBTQ political infrastructure. That's not accidental. It reflects a choice—or rather, a series of choices made by people in positions of power who have decided that protecting the feelings of religious groups matters more than protecting children from a practice that every major medical and psychological organization in the country has condemned. The residents pushing for the ordinance are not asking for much. They're not asking the city to regulate religious speech or religious institutions. They're asking for a narrow, legally sound ban on a specific harmful practice when it's delivered by licensed professionals to minors. It's the bare minimum. And in Wilton Manors, even that is apparently too much to ask. The next city commission meeting is scheduled for December. No one knows if the ordinance will be on the agenda.