The new face of Russia's conversion therapy hunts for a "fifth column" among doctors
At Russia's May 2026 psychiatric congress, Olga Bukhanovskaya, head physician of the Rostov-on-Don clinic Phoenix, spoke of an "epidemic of transgenderism" and a "fifth column" within the medical profession. Her father, the well-known Soviet psychiatrist Alexander Bukhanovsky, was one of the first to help transgender people and considered being transgender an innate condition. The outlet Reporterskie Istorii spoke with Bukhanovskaya's patients. Here is a retelling of the investigation, with context.
The Rostov psychiatrist Olga Bukhanovskaya's speech at Russia's May 2026 psychiatric congress spread widely across the media. In her report, she called homosexuality and being transgender mental illnesses, spoke approvingly of Russia's ban on gender transition, and claimed the country had been swept by an "epidemic of transgenderism" driven by "financial injections and grants." In Bukhanovskaya's telling, transgender people undergo a "trans briefing" with unnamed handlers in order to imitate "transsexualism" in a doctor's office, and the "propaganda" of this is carried out by a "fifth column of medicine" — that is, doctors who treat LGBT people with empathy.
As Marina Sibirtseva, a journalist with Reporterskie Istorii, notes, there is a long history behind these words. As early as 2023, Bukhanovskaya described the transgender community as a sprawling and well-funded "cult" recruiting new "adepts." The science communicator and psychopharmacology expert Roman Bekker stresses that her ultra-conservatism was not produced by the current political climate: the doctor has represented the far-right flank of the Russian Society of Psychiatrists for many years, and her position took shape long before the bans.
Views at odds with the scientific consensus
Bukhanovskaya considers being transgender a psychological anomaly that must be treated, and for that reason she opposed introducing the 11th revision of the International Classification of Diseases in Russia. In the ICD-11, adopted by the WHO, "gender incongruence" was moved out of the chapter on mental disorders and into the section on sexual health — precisely because the accumulated evidence does not support treating being transgender as a mental illness, while the old classification only reinforced stigma. In Russia, ICD-11 was supposed to be introduced by 2024, but it was never adopted.
The Phoenix clinic had been mentioned in the media before in connection with conversion therapy. On her Telegram channel, Bukhanovskaya criticizes gender theory and complains about "trans communities" that draw minors into closed chats, and she records mini-lectures for the clinic's social media against the backdrop of a portrait of her father.
Father and daughter
It is the figure of the father that gives this story its particular sharpness. Alexander Bukhanovsky became famous as one of the first Soviet researchers of transgender identity and as the psychiatrist who compiled a psychological profile of the serial killer Chikatilo and helped obtain his confession. He founded the Rostov-on-Don center that became the Phoenix clinic and worked there until his death in 2013.
In the late Soviet years, the subject of transgender identity was under an unspoken ban: as one of Bukhanovsky's students recalled, the psychiatrist was summoned to the party committee and told not to pursue a "false bourgeois problem." He continued anyway — at first semi-underground. By the early 1990s Bukhanovsky had become a well-known expert; he explained on the television program Tema that being transgender is not an illness but a condition in which "the soul and the biological and social sex do not coincide from birth," and, together with colleagues, he built a system of support for transgender people in the country, advocating their destigmatization and access to hormonal and surgical transition. His culminating monograph on transsexualism addressed the legal aspects of transition as well and proposed creating a nationwide network of support centers.
His daughter, in Bekker's assessment, "hiding behind her father's name and waving his legacy like a flag, is in fact consistently destroying it" — turning Alexander Bukhanovsky's views 180 degrees and stigmatizing the very people he helped. Olga Bukhanovskaya, by contrast, insists that she is preserving her father's legacy and that Phoenix has worked all these years on the basis of his approach.
What the patients say
Bekker calls Phoenix an extremely closed structure, about whose inpatient ward little is known. According to him, deliberate misgendering and deadnaming are practiced there — even toward people who managed to change their documents or have surgery before the ban on transition. The clinic's doctors have an overall rating of 3 on the ProDoctorov portal, and Bukhanovskaya herself 0.7; in reviews, patients complain of rudeness, an accusatory tone and excessive prescriptions.
Several people told Reporterskie Istorii about their experiences. The writer Alan Grigoriev turned to Bukhanovskaya in 2019 in search of the certificate needed for transition. The doctor wanted to speak with his mother, though the patient was forty-one; after he refused, Grigoriev says, Bukhanovskaya's tone changed sharply. She said she saw no indications, called him a "beautiful woman," and warned that within two years of starting hormone therapy he would "die of cancer." Grigoriev recalls that after this conversation his suicidal thoughts returned; a friend who urged him not to give up and to look for another clinic helped him through it. A trans-friendly specialist was found, Grigoriev began hormone therapy in 2020 — and, by his account, six years later he is alive and well. Since 2025 he has been living in France.
Mikhail (name changed), 26, came to Phoenix to clarify an old diagnosis. According to him, at a case conference his mother was told that her son was ill and had to be hospitalized urgently for a large sum; he describes the doctor's tone as manipulative and coercive, and one of Bukhanovskaya's questions as humiliating, with a sexualized subtext. The outdated Soviet diagnosis he was given, Mikhail says, was not confirmed at other clinics, and the episode itself left him with psychological trauma and a fear of doctors.
Anastasia (name changed), 29, sought help in the autumn of 2025 for nervous exhaustion. She says the doctor insisted on costly hospitalization, judged her as a mother, and ultimately suggested giving her child up to an orphanage. In her report, Anastasia found a diagnosis of "neurasthenia," which is not in ICD-11, and a regimen of eight medications, including tranquilizers; another psychiatrist, she says, considered such treatment excessive and prescribed a mild therapy that helped. Relatives of several other patients told the outlet about non-existent diagnoses, persistent drug dependence following the prescribed regimen, and a fear of the doctor that keeps those affected from making their stories public.
The doctor's response and the profession's position
Bukhanovskaya declined to comment to Reporterskie Istorii. On the propagandist and sensationalist show Solovyov Live, she called the media reaction unexpected, explained her report as an effort to preserve her father's legacy, and said that in 35 years of work the clinic has "not a single error." As proof she pointed to grateful patients; indeed, her posts do attract reviews from relatives thanking her for "curing" a loved one "of transgenderism" and not issuing a certificate.
The professional community itself, however, distanced itself from such rhetoric. A few days after the congress, the Russian Society of Psychiatrists issued a press release noting — without naming Bukhanovskaya — that extreme views, in particular the theory of "social contagion" of transsexualism, of a "fifth column in medicine," and the concept of "transgender spectrum disorders," had found no support among psychiatrists.
Bukhanovskaya's story unfolds against a backdrop of broader tightening: after the ban on gender transition in 2023 and the designation of the "LGBT movement" as extremist, transgender people in Russia are increasingly left alone with doctors for whom their identity is an illness. Some of them, like Alan Grigoriev, eventually leave.
This article is based on an investigation by Reporterskie Istorii, published by the outlet Novaya Vkladka (the author is Marina Sibirtseva). Some interviewees speak under changed names. Olga Bukhanovskaya's direct quotes are drawn from her public appearances.
This article touches on suicidal experiences and psychological well-being. If you are struggling or need support, it is important not to be alone with it — reach out to people you trust or to a professional. Free psychological and legal help for LGBTQ+ people is available through specialized organizations, including Sfera and Coming Out.
The Rostov psychiatrist Olga Bukhanovskaya's speech at Russia's May 2026 psychiatric congress spread widely across the media. In her report, she called homosexuality and being transgender mental illnesses, spoke approvingly of Russia's ban on gender transition, and claimed the country had been swept by an "epidemic of transgenderism" driven by "financial injections and grants." In Bukhanovskaya's telling, transgender people undergo a "trans briefing" with unnamed handlers in order to imitate "transsexualism" in a doctor's office, and the "propaganda" of this is carried out by a "fifth column of medicine" — that is, doctors who treat LGBT people with empathy.
As Marina Sibirtseva, a journalist with Reporterskie Istorii, notes, there is a long history behind these words. As early as 2023, Bukhanovskaya described the transgender community as a sprawling and well-funded "cult" recruiting new "adepts." The science communicator and psychopharmacology expert Roman Bekker stresses that her ultra-conservatism was not produced by the current political climate: the doctor has represented the far-right flank of the Russian Society of Psychiatrists for many years, and her position took shape long before the bans.
Views at odds with the scientific consensus
Bukhanovskaya considers being transgender a psychological anomaly that must be treated, and for that reason she opposed introducing the 11th revision of the International Classification of Diseases in Russia. In the ICD-11, adopted by the WHO, "gender incongruence" was moved out of the chapter on mental disorders and into the section on sexual health — precisely because the accumulated evidence does not support treating being transgender as a mental illness, while the old classification only reinforced stigma. In Russia, ICD-11 was supposed to be introduced by 2024, but it was never adopted.
The Phoenix clinic had been mentioned in the media before in connection with conversion therapy. On her Telegram channel, Bukhanovskaya criticizes gender theory and complains about "trans communities" that draw minors into closed chats, and she records mini-lectures for the clinic's social media against the backdrop of a portrait of her father.
Father and daughter
It is the figure of the father that gives this story its particular sharpness. Alexander Bukhanovsky became famous as one of the first Soviet researchers of transgender identity and as the psychiatrist who compiled a psychological profile of the serial killer Chikatilo and helped obtain his confession. He founded the Rostov-on-Don center that became the Phoenix clinic and worked there until his death in 2013.
In the late Soviet years, the subject of transgender identity was under an unspoken ban: as one of Bukhanovsky's students recalled, the psychiatrist was summoned to the party committee and told not to pursue a "false bourgeois problem." He continued anyway — at first semi-underground. By the early 1990s Bukhanovsky had become a well-known expert; he explained on the television program Tema that being transgender is not an illness but a condition in which "the soul and the biological and social sex do not coincide from birth," and, together with colleagues, he built a system of support for transgender people in the country, advocating their destigmatization and access to hormonal and surgical transition. His culminating monograph on transsexualism addressed the legal aspects of transition as well and proposed creating a nationwide network of support centers.
His daughter, in Bekker's assessment, "hiding behind her father's name and waving his legacy like a flag, is in fact consistently destroying it" — turning Alexander Bukhanovsky's views 180 degrees and stigmatizing the very people he helped. Olga Bukhanovskaya, by contrast, insists that she is preserving her father's legacy and that Phoenix has worked all these years on the basis of his approach.
What the patients say
Bekker calls Phoenix an extremely closed structure, about whose inpatient ward little is known. According to him, deliberate misgendering and deadnaming are practiced there — even toward people who managed to change their documents or have surgery before the ban on transition. The clinic's doctors have an overall rating of 3 on the ProDoctorov portal, and Bukhanovskaya herself 0.7; in reviews, patients complain of rudeness, an accusatory tone and excessive prescriptions.
Several people told Reporterskie Istorii about their experiences. The writer Alan Grigoriev turned to Bukhanovskaya in 2019 in search of the certificate needed for transition. The doctor wanted to speak with his mother, though the patient was forty-one; after he refused, Grigoriev says, Bukhanovskaya's tone changed sharply. She said she saw no indications, called him a "beautiful woman," and warned that within two years of starting hormone therapy he would "die of cancer." Grigoriev recalls that after this conversation his suicidal thoughts returned; a friend who urged him not to give up and to look for another clinic helped him through it. A trans-friendly specialist was found, Grigoriev began hormone therapy in 2020 — and, by his account, six years later he is alive and well. Since 2025 he has been living in France.
Mikhail (name changed), 26, came to Phoenix to clarify an old diagnosis. According to him, at a case conference his mother was told that her son was ill and had to be hospitalized urgently for a large sum; he describes the doctor's tone as manipulative and coercive, and one of Bukhanovskaya's questions as humiliating, with a sexualized subtext. The outdated Soviet diagnosis he was given, Mikhail says, was not confirmed at other clinics, and the episode itself left him with psychological trauma and a fear of doctors.
Anastasia (name changed), 29, sought help in the autumn of 2025 for nervous exhaustion. She says the doctor insisted on costly hospitalization, judged her as a mother, and ultimately suggested giving her child up to an orphanage. In her report, Anastasia found a diagnosis of "neurasthenia," which is not in ICD-11, and a regimen of eight medications, including tranquilizers; another psychiatrist, she says, considered such treatment excessive and prescribed a mild therapy that helped. Relatives of several other patients told the outlet about non-existent diagnoses, persistent drug dependence following the prescribed regimen, and a fear of the doctor that keeps those affected from making their stories public.
The doctor's response and the profession's position
Bukhanovskaya declined to comment to Reporterskie Istorii. On the propagandist and sensationalist show Solovyov Live, she called the media reaction unexpected, explained her report as an effort to preserve her father's legacy, and said that in 35 years of work the clinic has "not a single error." As proof she pointed to grateful patients; indeed, her posts do attract reviews from relatives thanking her for "curing" a loved one "of transgenderism" and not issuing a certificate.
The professional community itself, however, distanced itself from such rhetoric. A few days after the congress, the Russian Society of Psychiatrists issued a press release noting — without naming Bukhanovskaya — that extreme views, in particular the theory of "social contagion" of transsexualism, of a "fifth column in medicine," and the concept of "transgender spectrum disorders," had found no support among psychiatrists.
Bukhanovskaya's story unfolds against a backdrop of broader tightening: after the ban on gender transition in 2023 and the designation of the "LGBT movement" as extremist, transgender people in Russia are increasingly left alone with doctors for whom their identity is an illness. Some of them, like Alan Grigoriev, eventually leave.
This article is based on an investigation by Reporterskie Istorii, published by the outlet Novaya Vkladka (the author is Marina Sibirtseva). Some interviewees speak under changed names. Olga Bukhanovskaya's direct quotes are drawn from her public appearances.
This article touches on suicidal experiences and psychological well-being. If you are struggling or need support, it is important not to be alone with it — reach out to people you trust or to a professional. Free psychological and legal help for LGBTQ+ people is available through specialized organizations, including Sfera and Coming Out.