Adam Shankman says there was a time when the Hollywood career he enjoys today almost never happened.
In a candid first-person essay shared through GLAAD’s “GLAAD To Share” series, the Hairspray director reflected on childhood trauma, addiction, and the long journey toward embracing his identity as a queer storyteller. Shankman, whose latest film Stop! That! Train! stars RuPaul, said he was subjected to conversion therapy when he was just 4 years old.
“Being queer was not an okay thing to be by any metric during my formative years,” Shankman wrote.
According to Shankman, his parents brought him to a doctor because he was an energetic child who loved to dance. He later learned that the doctor had been attempting to change his behavior through conversion therapy without his parents’ knowledge.
“If you say you want to be a girl or if you demonstrate that, your parents will discard you,” he recalled being told. “You’ll starve. You’ll die. You’ll never have any friends. No one will ever love you.”
Shankman said he eventually told his parents what was happening, and his mother immediately stopped the sessions.
“I don’t know that they’ve recovered from it to this day,” he wrote.
The Lasting Impact of Conversion Therapy
Although Shankman said he ultimately survived the experience, he described its effects as long-lasting.
“That man’s voice ultimately became my voice.”
He also revealed that some of the other children in the program died by suicide during their teenage years.
By 15, Shankman said he had turned to alcohol and drugs as a way to cope with fear and isolation.
“I was grateful to them at that time because I was afraid of the world, and they gave me access to a social life,” he wrote.
He said he was not out during high school and dated girls despite not yet understanding his sexuality.
Building a Career in Entertainment
Shankman eventually found community through dance and performance in his early 20s. What followed was one of Hollywood’s most unusual career trajectories.
He worked as a waiter, dancer, choreographer, director, producer, author, and television personality before arriving at what he now considers his true identity.
“At this point in my life, I’m just a storyteller. That’s what I feel most grateful for.”
He credited part of his early success to being in the right place at the right time after influential choreographers Lester Wilson and Michael Peters died in the same year, creating unexpected opportunities.
The Accidental Director
Shankman said he never planned to become a film director.
While helping his sister develop notes for what became The Wedding Planner, he was invited to meet with studio executives. Ten minutes into the meeting, he said he was hired to direct the movie.
“This is everything I wanted to hear,” he recalled the executive telling him.
Production took nearly two years to begin, and Shankman said he went broke waiting for the film to move forward. But after The Wedding Planner became his feature directing debut, more opportunities followed.
A Queer Story for Everyone
Now, 25 years later, Shankman is releasing Stop! That! Train!, which he describes as his first overtly queer movie.
He has known RuPaul since 1994, though he said they became significantly closer during the making of the film.
Shankman noted that many of his previous projects, including Hairspray and Bringing Down the House, were “queer-coded” and often challenged prejudice through comedy.
“This is my first kinda queer movie,” he wrote.
Still, he said he has no interest in making art that excludes others.
“I don’t believe in making things that exclude; that would be weird to me, because I know what it feels like to be excluded.”
Looking Forward, Not Back
Despite decades of success, Shankman said he still struggles with an internal narrative shaped by childhood trauma.
“My internal narrative is still so negative,” he wrote. “I have to work hard every day to blow past that.”
For that reason, he rarely revisits his finished work once it is released.
Instead, he remains focused on what comes next.
“I don’t want to feel like I have limits,” Shankman wrote. “I’m going to die in the director’s chair. I never want to stop doing this. It’s my happy place.”
Stop! That! Train! is now playing in theaters. The full essay by Adam Shankman can be found below:
My name is Adam Shankman. I was born in 1964, and I was not an easy child. I was a wild kid with an enormous amount of energy. Being queer was not an okay thing to be by any metric during my formative years. When I was four years old, my parents met with a doctor. I spent time with this doctor while my mom waited in the waiting room. I would be alone with him in the chair a couple of times a month and then in a study group another couple of times a month. It was like a week on, week off, week on, week off situation. Unbeknownst to my parents, the doctor started exercising conversion therapy on me. And what my mother described to me later was that she started to see a light go off in me, and all my joy, and all the dancing started to diminish.
I had no words to explain what was happening in that room. I became very fearful. This doctor was telling me things like, “If you say you want to be a girl or if you demonstrate that, your parents will discard you. You’ll starve. You’ll die. You’ll never have any friends. No one will ever love you.” I was four years old, and I remember it, but I didn’t until later. When I told my parents what was happening, they were devastated.
At one point, I said to my mom, “I don’t want to see this doctor anymore.” And she said, “I think that’s a good idea.” And she pulled me out. I don’t know that they’ve recovered from it to this day.
Unfortunately, the damage was done, and it teed me up for my addictions and my escapism. Obviously, I made it through. I’m good. However, I will always be haunted by that narrative because that man’s voice ultimately became my voice. And I do know that a couple of the other kids in my program killed themselves in their teen years.
I kind of blacked that all out until I was in my teen years.
At 15, I discovered alcohol and drugs. I was grateful to them at that time because I was afraid of the world, and they gave me access to a social life. I wasn’t out to myself in high school. I had girlfriends. And by the way, I always like to say I know I’m queer because I had girlfriends. I now look back and feel so bad for those girls. Talk about dull sex.
When I became a performer and dancer in my early 20s, I started to build a queer community, which, for me, sort of fell away when I started directing. Directing is a very isolating job.
I’ve had a lot of jobs. I’ve had waiter jobs. I was a dancer, then a choreographer and director, producer, author, and, I guess, TV personality. But none of it feels like anything more than just an extension of the opportunities that I’ve worked for. A lot of it has to do with my saying yes. At this point in my life, I’m just a storyteller. That’s what I feel most grateful for.
I had an early break, and so much work fell on me because the two biggest guys in choreography at the time, Lester Wilson and Michael Peters, died in the same year. They were really running the show, and I just happened to be there and caught most of that work.
A No Limit Career
I never thought I’d be a director. I gave my sister, who was a young producer at the time, these notes for what would become The Wedding Planner—my feature film debut. I gave my overarching vision for it, and she said, “Would you ever be up for going in to talk to the studio? I think these notes are great.” And I was like, “Well, that’s crazy. Of course I would if they’ll see me, because what a funny thing to do. I knew the project’s executive was the same person I had worked with as a choreographer on Boogie Nights. And she was running this small arm of New Line [Cinema] called Fine Line at the time. And so I prepared for the meeting, went in, and started talking. Ten minutes in, she hired me as the project’s director. She was like, ‘This is everything I wanted to hear.’ And I hadn’t even finished my spiel. I kept talking, and my sister turned to me and said, ‘Stop talking. You have the job. You’re going to talk yourself out of it if you keep talking.’ It took almost two years before production began. I went broke basically waiting for it to get made. But after The Wedding Planner, one thing led to another, and here I am 25 years later, releasing my latest film, Stop! That! Train! starring drag superstar and Emmy winner RuPaul.
I’ve known RuPaul since 1994, but I had never watched Drag Race until the pandemic. And, obviously, now with the release of Stop! That! Train!, I have a significant relationship. A lot of my work is queercoded because I’m the teller of the story, and so, my sensibility is going to come through. I’ve also made a lot of anti-prejudice movies, like, obviously, Hairspray and Bringing Down the House. They’re comedies, but they’re holding up a mirror, and it’s always how I’ve approached my movement against racial bias, prejudice, and fear. But this is my first kinda queer movie–because Hairspray wasn’t queer enough, I had to do this movie. Yes, Stop! That! Train! is for the queer community for sure, but I don’t believe in making things that exclude; that would be weird to me, because I know what it feels like to be excluded.
I could have never imagined being in the rooms that I’ve been in, the people I’ve had the opportunity to work with, and the relationships that I’ve made. When I make something, and it goes out in the world, I never look at it again because it’s none of my business anymore. It becomes something for everybody else. I’m also very sensitive. I think that’s an unfortunate byproduct of that early shit with that doctor. My internal narrative is still so negative. I have to work hard every day to blow past that, so I don’t look back; I only look forward.
I don’t want to feel like I have limits. I’m going to die in the director’s chair. I never want to stop doing this. It’s my happy place. If I never went anywhere else and I just kept getting to direct, I’d be a very happy man. My life will have been complete.