https://www.bustle.com/p/my-escape-from-the-evangelical-cult-in-which-i-was-raised-began-at-the-library-16908751

In 1997 when I was 16, sexual purity and abstinence-only culture was all I had ever known. I was the girl in the oversized jumper dress that hid my figure and my legs. I wore a silver purity ring on my right hand and a hunter green "What Would Jesus Do?" bracelet on my wrist. I didn’t use makeup or tampons. I didn’t kiss, hold hands, or date. I definitely never looked at my naked body if I could avoid it. I stood out in all the wrong ways, but this was my normal. And all of my homeschool friends were just like me.

In my evangelical cult, a woman’s path in life was clear: Get married, have children but not a career, keep quiet, be modest, and obey your husband. A man needed to make money and be in charge, and meanwhile, his wife would provide him with sex and care for his children. When a teen rebelled against their parents or a wife left her husband, it was commonly spoken of as a form of demon possession, and we prayed that the person under satanic oppression would be released. Spanking children as young 18 months old was encouraged, and strict discipline was expected. In fact, one pastor gave a seminar about which spanking methods and everyday household items produced the best obedience in children and teens. Ritualistic beatings were coded as loving discipline.

Due to the cult’s obsession with sexual purity, information about sex for teens was limited to a list of "don’ts." Don’t touch someone of the opposite sex. Don’t kiss until your wedding day. Don’t date anyone you wouldn’t want to marry. (But how would we know we wanted to marry them without dating them?) If you had questions about sex, they would largely be answered the night before your wedding — but never in too much detail, lest it corrupt your virgin mind. Forget questions or discussions about homosexuality or being transgender; as far as my evangelical subculture was concerned, those "lifestyles" didn’t really exist.

https://www.bustle.com/p/was-i-in-a-cult-how-my-own-experience-in-a-doomsday-church-inspired-my-novel-18735215

Who doesn’t love a good cult story, right? Charles Manson, Jim Jones, NXIVM. By the time these stories hit the news, it’s never for a good reason. Crimes have been committed. Strange belief systems are exposed. Sometimes people have even lost their lives. If you’re anything like me, you pour over these true crime tales and wonder: Why would anyone ever willingly join a cult?

Because cults are really good at hiding in plain sight.

As I entered junior high, most of my classmates were preoccupied with friends and grades and fitting in. I, however, was preoccupied with the end of the world. The first time I thought the world was ending, I was in the seventh grade riding the bus to school. It was a cold, icy morning. Our bus probably never should have been on the roads, but Minnesotans never back down from inclement weather. As our bus chugged up the hill, it slid into a shallow ditch. I gripped the straps of my backpack and told everyone, "This is it! The end of the world!"

I got more than a few strange looks that morning.

A bus skidding on some ice isn’t exactly an apocalyptic event. But my family had recently joined a church that was obsessed with the end of the world. My parents, who were lapsed Methodists, had been seeking spiritual nourishment. One day some men and women in modest suits and dresses rang our doorbell and invited us to come to their church. My parents were convinced it was a sign from God. Until then, my religious experiences had consisted of begrudgingly attending church a few times a year and dropping out of Sunday school.

The main message was always the same—the world was going to end any minute, and if you weren’t on God’s good side, you were going to die.
Suddenly we went to church every Sunday, which looked more like a retirement home than a church. It had no pews, no stained-glass windows, and no crosses. Just rows of pink padded chairs and bad hotel art. Services lasted for hours. We also went to a Bible study every Wednesday night. The main message was always the same: The world was going to end any minute, and if you weren’t on God’s good side, you were going to die. And not only would God destroy your physical body, He would also destroy the memory of you as well. It would be as though you never existed. Fun times, right?

This group had a lot of rules, and we were expected to follow them. Only men could be in positions of power or leadership. Only men could preach. Only men could lead a family. Women couldn’t wear too much makeup or flirt with men. Homosexuality was a sin. No blood transfusions. College was frowned upon. It took your time and focus away from God. Sports and other extracurricular activities were also discouraged. We weren’t supposed to associate with anyone outside the church. "Bad associations spoil useful habits," the group told us. It was All God, All the Time.

I have always been an anxious perfectionist, so I jumped into my new religion feet first. If I was going to do this God thing, I would do it all the way! I remember shopping with my mom for new church clothes. The group expected its members to wear conservative clothing. It was the '90s, and I was really into broom skirts, which were a better option than dresses. My mom even let me wear my black Converse sneakers with them sometimes. At first I felt powerful sitting through hours of services in those colorful, crinkly skirts, feeling sorry for all the poor unfortunate souls who weren’t in our group. And, if I’m being honest, I felt better than them. I was special. I knew the truth. I was part of an elite group. I gave sermons to my friends, trying to convince them why their religions were so dangerously bad.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/13/2019 07:49AM by anybody.

The library is where I discovered the real world was not like I learned at church too. I was not part of an "elite" group. I was in a bubble shaped by my religious upbringing.

Great parallels.

I've never thought of myself as a perfectionist, but some people have told me I am. I do things as well as I possibly can and I did mormonism that way. I feared doing something I could be punished for. I knew next to nothing about sex and I feared having to discuss sex with a bishop. I truly feel I would have had to commit suicide if that ever happened. Well, it did, in a round-about way with my situation, but it was through this experience with the leaders and the sexual issues that I lost my beliefs. Like they always say here and elsewhere, the curtain was pulled back and the truth of mormonism was exposed.

I had to hang in there for a while, trying to figure it all out. When I finally let go, it was the most freeing thing that has ever happened to me in my life.

My daughter is also a perfectionist and I see her doing the same things I did. She thinks she is entirely different than I am.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/13/2019 03:08PM by cl2.