For Bobby Matoney, changing careers from musical theater to therapist felt like a natural progression, since both are spaces that foster visibility and belonging. “The thread that weaves together my work as an artist and as a counselor at GMHC is community. Finding that is part of taking care of ourselves,” says Matoney, Senior Mental Health Counselor for Mental Health and Substance Use Services.
At GMHC, Matoney works with LGBTQ+ people, primarily gay men. While his clients range in age from 20 to 70 and come from diverse racial and ethnic backgrounds, he says they often share a common experience of shame. Often, that’s a response to homophobia, transphobia, and other stigma, which can lead to isolation, disconnection, and loneliness. “Many of us grow up hearing over and over that who we are is wrong or that our choices are wrong. Those messages can leave deep scars,” he says.
Trauma-informed care at GMHC means that no matter who walks through that door, we are prepared and trained and willing to meet them exactly where they’re at.
Matoney already knew he wanted to work at GMHC when he embarked on a master’s degree in counseling at Brooklyn College in 2021. “I’ve always been inspired by the legacy of GMHC,” he says.
“Growing up gay in Cleveland Ohio, I had a very supportive family and friends, but I still had to navigate my own insecurities and sense of self – to find where I belonged. When I moved to New York in 2002 to pursue acting, GMHC stood out as this community beacon of light. I’d see the red GMHC banner at parades and community events and be curious about what they were doing,” he says. Soon after, he started volunteering and taking part in AIDS Walk New York.
Matoney, who just marked his third year at the agency, says that space of belonging for clients extends across departments, from the dining room to the Testing Center. We asked him why the GMHC community matters more than ever for his counseling clients in a time of unprecedented upheaval.
The conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
GMHC: First, what attracted you to musical theater?
Bobby Matoney: For me, musical theater was my art form. Yes, there was talent, but underneath that was the quiet sort of ache to be around people who accepted me. Through singing, dancing, and acting, I found people who did. As any queer kid would tell you, the theater is a safe space – a place where you can play and use your creativity. A big part of our resilience in the queer community is tapping into all the ways that we are creative.
One of my favorite roles was playing Dr. Frank N. Furter in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Give me a net corset, black brows, and platform shoes – and it’s an explosion of absolute joy on stage. Dr. Frank N. Furter is an unapologetic, larger than life, and, yes, messy character. Playing him was a revelation – it was so liberating and outrageous. It allowed me to embrace all the forms of gender expression, freely moving in and out of them in a very commanding, powerful, authentic way.
With those platform shoes, I just stomped around with no judgment, no shame. That’s camp – embracing the queerness of living. The commute to a community theater in Summit, New Jersey was worth every subway and train ride.
What do you bring from musical theater to your therapy practice, where your clients often are grappling with co-occurring mental health, substance use, and psychosocial challenges?
I was drawn to music and theater because of the visibility I found in navigating parts of myself that felt unseen. That sense of belonging and connection is also what drew me to GMHC. What I hear in the therapy rooms are messages of feeling shame, which can drive isolation. When you add silence to that, it creates a really dangerous terrain, by leaving people feeling invisible. To try and cope with that pain, people seek relief — it could be substance use, it could be sex, it could be shopping. We want to shore up our clients’ sense of connection and belonging in whatever ways are helpful to them. At the end of the day, people want to be seen and know that they matter.
While we draw on a range of mental health interventions and modalities, it’s also about creativity, which could be spiritual or cultural. As a therapist now, I still keep an eye out for any creative things I can do – and the same goes for my clients. Creative expression is protective for our mental health. I’m always looking for joy along the way.
This is a challenging time for everyone right now. What stressors and issues are you seeing for clients in your therapy sessions?
Clients are facing mental health stress from trauma and stigma right now, particularly for the LGBTQ+ community and anyone living with HIV. People are feeling a lot of concerns about what is going on in the world today, whether it’s poverty, housing instability, or food insecurity, as well as discrimination and other systemic barriers.
As for what’s going on politically, the fear I hear from clients in the therapy rooms is a sense of: ‘My story is being erased. Who I am is being erased.’ So, visibility, even more so now, is the intervention. We have to be seen right now – to be able to say, ‘I’m here, I’m real, my life matters.’ And that is risky.
We know that trauma is a major risk factor for suicide. Trauma-informed care at GMHC means that no matter who walks through that door, we are prepared and trained and willing to meet them exactly where they’re at. We’re not looking at what’s wrong with you – viewing people as a collection of symptoms. Rather, it’s about understanding where you have been.
People have a story to share, and our job is to listen. It’s not about fixing. If I can hold that story for even a second, it can change someone’s life. No matter what the trauma is, it needs to be heard and held. Trauma can really amp up a narrow focus and feelings of shame, so we want to create a space for safety. It’s about being able to tell your story – that is the antidote to shame. When clients are with someone who is really deeply listening, it is amazing what can happen.
You and your colleagues share a whole-person approach to trauma-informed care. What does that look like?
I’m noticing how often I’ve been mentioning being seen. Even with all my research and training in these therapeutic modalities – at the heart of my work, it’s about witnessing the whole person as totally human in all that messiness. A diagnosis is not an identity. Rather, it informs all the different ways we can approach whatever the context is. I love working with a strengths mindset that addresses the whole person.
Along with anxiety and trauma, there is resilience and faith. We’re always holding both for the client. If there is despair, I’m also holding onto hope, and we explore that. If there is depression, I’m also holding onto joy. As human beings, we rarely feel just one emotion at a time. There’s room for all of it. It’s messy, and that’s ok. We don’t need to shame it or judge it. We take a look at all of this and see where we get to. In every therapy session we have, it’s not about having all the answers. It’s about holding the complexity of a person’s life.
Since September is Suicide Prevention Month, could you share how you respond to someone who is having thoughts of suicide? As you know, LGBTQ+ adults are significantly more likely to experience suicidal ideation, due to stigma, discrimination, and barriers to care.
There’s a misconception that suicidal ideation is not very common, and that it’s an extreme response. Actually, a huge percentage of people have these thoughts. Ideation is a spectrum. It can range from fleeting thoughts to having a plan. It is a very human experience that when someone is in chronic pain and suffering, the mind seeks relief. It could be thoughts of ‘I just want to go to sleep and not wake up.’ It’s not about wanting to die — it’s about wanting to end the suffering.
When people share these thoughts with me, my first response is to validate them and affirm that their life matters. I listen to their story, so the client knows that they are not alone in this moment. Then, we can move into whatever assessment or follow-up protocol we need. If someone needs a safety plan, we take it to that level. But we start by listening, so that someone feels safe in this moment.
As our CEO, Jon Mallow, has said, GMHC was born out of a time of crisis. We are experiencing that right now. At GMHC, we are creating a space of visibility and belonging. That’s why we keep showing up every day – to keep that foundation of connection strong so everyone can stand upon it. I’m grateful to be a part of it.
If you or someone you know is in emotional distress or having suicidal thoughts, you can reach the National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988. There is also an online chat at 988lifeline.org
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