For years, the question “Is Donnie McClurkin gay?” has been raised in gospel music forums, interviews, and pulpits. Beneath that straightforward question, however, is a much more nuanced reality characterized by trauma, faith, public confession, and the profound emotional cost of categorizing sexuality as something to be redeemed or rejected. Not only is it a personal question, but it is also cultural, generational, and frequently misinterpreted.
McClurkin has been open about his past, albeit cautiously so. He linked his battle with homosexuality to being sexually abused as a child by family members in both interviews and his 2001 book, Eternal Victim, Eternal Victor. He talked about how prayer “delivered” him when he was “turned” gay. This framing was and remains especially contentious. Even while psychologists and LGBTQ+ activists vehemently denounced such tales as harmful, it established his public image at a time when many religious organizations were praising what they called change.
McClurkin has strengthened his religious identification during the last 20 years. Obama’s attendance at a gospel event during the 2008 campaign sparked outrage from LGBTQ+ organizations, who pointed to his anti-gay remarks. McClurkin remained deeply ingrained in conservative Christian music circles and spoke at prominent religious events in spite of the criticism. His followers saw his narrative as inspirational—a man of God overcoming a troubled past—especially among senior churchgoers.
| Full Name | Donald Andrew McClurkin Jr. |
|---|---|
| Born | November 9, 1959 – Copiague, New York |
| Profession | Gospel Singer, Pastor, Author |
| Key Albums | Live in London and More, Psalms, Hymns & Spiritual Songs, Duets |
| Major Awards | 3 Grammys, 10 Stellar Awards, 2 BET Awards |
| Public Statement on Sexuality | Identified as “delivered” from homosexuality through faith |
| Link | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donnie_McClurkin |
Now, however, the narrative has taken a drastic shift.
Giuseppe Corletto, McClurkin’s former assistant, filed a civil complaint in New York County Supreme Court at the beginning of 2026. The accusations are really disturbing and grave. Corletto, who is currently in his early 40s, claims that McClurkin sexually assaulted him starting when he was 21. Court filings state that their relationship started off as emotional support and spiritual mentoring.
After reading McClurkin’s book, Corletto claimed he sought him out in the hopes of experiencing a similar healing. Rather, he claims that spiritual counseling sessions swiftly turned abusive and forceful. In one of the complaint’s more in-depth sections, Corletto details how McClurkin exposed himself, touched him while he was praying alone, and presented these encounters as heavenly trials. While on tour, the preacher allegedly beat him in hotel rooms several times. According to Corletto, the emotional deception was especially agonizing because McClurkin presented himself as the means by which God would “deliver” him.
In a purported apology email included in the lawsuit, McClurkin allegedly refers to himself as a “desperate dirty old man” and acknowledges transgressing boundaries. His legal team maintains that the accusations are “categorically false” and that they misrepresent the nature of a long-standing professional relationship. However, the lawsuit has compelled a broader discussion about shame, authority, and spiritual development in religious institutions.
The public image that has been deliberately constructed around change is the source of the friction in this case, in addition to the accused activities. Numerous stages have broadcast McClurkin’s testimony of deliverance. Despite the growing rejection of that story by newer generations, he became an icon in evangelical circles due to his identity as a guy who “escaped” homosexuality. The complaint calls into question not only his actions but also the narrative he has been telling for many years.
Around 2004, I recall listening to McClurkin’s song “Stand” at a church service. People cried. The song’s lyrics conveyed dignity in the face of defeat and strength in the face of battle. But now that we know—or at least what is being claimed—I can’t help but wonder whether the biggest challenge he ever encountered was thinking that his identity was a weakness that needed to be overcome.
When McClurkin called his attraction to men a “curse,” he left no space for peace—only battle. It’s possible that the internal strife had a negative impact. His message was both potent and achingly familiar to many, especially those who were up LGBT in Christian homes. It was about survival through denial, not just atonement. Additionally, the influence was exacerbated by trust, loyalty, and the desire for spiritual approbation for someone like Corletto, who firmly believed in that message.
Corletto now claims that his mental health has improved after accepting his sexuality. He started to feel less depressed, suicidal, and guilty, which he thought were caused by his inability to be “delivered.” This result reveals an incredibly obvious pattern: guilt frequently causes more harm than the alleged sin it targets. Furthermore, for many people who have experienced religious trauma, achieving peace frequently entails letting go of both a belief system and the leaders who shaped it.
Donnie McClurkin isn’t the only topic of discussion. It’s about how much it costs to present people as evidence that change is possible when, in reality, they might just be learning how to conceal. It has to do with spiritual systems that uphold silence while preaching freedom. It also concerns the number of lives that have been subtly destroyed due to pressure to meet a holiness model that never existed.
It’s unclear if McClurkin will ever publicly revisit his account. But going forward, how we allow complexity without justifying harm is very crucial. The power of faith can be tremendous. Truth can, too. However, there are long-lasting and intensely personal repercussions when faith is used as a weapon to suppress truth.
