The following is an excerpt from the memoir, “The Untold Story of Scott Hoying, Pentatonix Star” by Connie Hoying, out May 6.

For many years, Scott didn’t feel like he could openly be who he is.

He expressed himself musically, but he didn’t share a big part of himself with me until he was seventeen. I was with him, on a long drive back from a piano lesson in Lewisville. It was like any ordinary day. We were just chatting about everyday things, when, a few miles from our house, he suddenly broke into tears. I was caught off guard and anxiously asked him what was wrong.

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Scott paused for a moment, collected himself, and then he said to me, “Mom, I’m gay.” Those words hung in the air momentarily. I was shocked—I had no idea, and I’d never really considered the possibility. He had always had girlfriends, and he had dated Kirstie for most of his sophomore year of high school.

I could see how difficult this conversation was for him, so I wanted to make sure that I responded the right way. In that vulnerable space, I told him that my love was unconditional and that being gay would not change how I felt about him in any way. He was still upset, but with my words, I hoped I could help him break free of the worry and complicated concerns he had no doubt been feeling for a long time. I had worries myself, as his mother, given what other gay men and women have had to face in our society in the late 2000s and prior. Looking back, I still don’t know if it was the right thing to do, but I gently requested that Scott hold off on coming out to others until after he graduated from high school. I was concerned about bullying and discrimination, and I didn’t want him to be ostracized by other high school kids. I asked him to wait until he went to college in Los Angeles, which I believed would be a more accepting environment. He shouldn’t have to hide, I knew that, but I had so many fears on so many levels.

A few weeks later, Scott came home from a party. When I asked him how his evening went, he told me that it was good and bad. He arrived at the party, and a football player saw Scott and said, “Hey f**got, get lost, or I’ll beat your ass.” Fortunately, several kids at the party overheard him say this very homophobic slur and threat and told the football player to get out. Several people apologized to Scott, and the girl throwing the party said that that guy would never be welcome at her house again. Her response was comforting, but the incident was still unsettling, a validation of my deepest fears.

Even when Scott was set to move to California (a story still to come), I didn’t really know of many openly gay singers at the time, and, as a mother, I worried that coming out might affect his future opportunities. After all, he was pursuing a career that would put him in the public eye. I hope he knows this thought was in the back of my mind when I cautioned him about telling too many people. We did our best to support him as he became and embraced his true self. But there are always, unfortunately, the practical considerations of a society that hasn’t caught up to the reality of the varied and diverse identities people have. It’s a balance between what is and what should be.

That car ride was a pivotal moment in our relationship, and I’m grateful that he was comfortable enough to have that conversation with me. After that, though, I had a new set of anxieties. What kinds of challenges would he face coming out with the pressure of societal expectations while also finding his authentic self and pursuing his passions? Would it all be too much?

A few weeks later, Scott came home and told us that the mother of a gay friend recommended a counselor. The counselor claimed to have once identified as gay but had gone through a process to become “straight.” This was before we understood what exactly conversion therapy was. We were both curious, and I made the appointment.

As the day of the appointment approached, Scott had second thoughts and decided he no longer wanted to go. Despite his change of heart, I encouraged him to go, which I later regretted. We kept the appointment for no other reason than to hear the therapist’s story. I was skeptical, but I wanted to see what the counselor had to say. I was still quite ignorant about it all, really. Reluctantly, Scott accompanied me to the session. The counselor shared his experiences and personal journey from identifying as gay to “embracing the heterosexual lifestyle.”

The meeting started out very lighthearted, nothing ominous. The counselor seemed easygoing and joked that his wife appreciated his qualities that weren’t traditionally masculine. He described himself as an excellent cook, an adept interior decorator, and the best-dressed husband. He also said he had more stereotypical male interests, like yard work, car repair, and various other tasks associated with stereotypical gender roles. I don’t know why this part of the session stood out to me, other than I could relate to a wife appreciating someone good at so many things.

Then the meeting took a darker turn that upset Scott. The counselor brought up some of the religious aspects about homosexuality being a sin and the possibility of going to hell. The counselor also told Scott he would never be successful in music if he lived a gay lifestyle. Scott was getting annoyed and upset and was confident enough to respond that he believed that God wouldn’t give him purpose and talents and then damn him for being gay. I was so impressed with his self-confidence—the way he stood up to this adult he just met and his belief in himself and his purpose.

Listening to the things coming out of the counselor’s mouth that day was too much. The counselor discussed what he thought were some of the ugly “reasons” people became gay, like a bad relationship with the father or being molested at a young age, none of which applied to Scott, so we shut that down immediately.

The session was a one-time experience, and we never returned. Scott cried for twenty-four hours afterward, and I was beyond freaked out because I had never seen Scott so sad in his life. I was so angry at myself for making that appointment. I knew this supposed therapy would not help Scott understand or accept himself, which is what I ultimately wanted.

Today, I understand better what conversion therapy is, and I would never want to put Scott through anything like that. I truly believe conversion therapy is horrific and should not exist. I am so incredibly proud of my son and son-in-law, who are so visibly queer and inspiring to LGBTQ+ people everywhere. I have witnessed countless times young men approaching Scott and thanking him for making them feel hopeful and showing them that it is possible to find love. He also told me he gets messages from young gay men and women almost daily.

Scott always ends the conversation by telling them, “You can be yourself and thrive!”

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