Cults & Me

I’m a cult survivor. When I use this label to describe myself, I feel a mix of shame, anxiety, depression, relief, pride, and strength. It's complicated. 

In this piece, I’m going to share the full arc of my story in the simplest way I can. My hope is that you’ll leave the piece understanding me, cults, and organizational development a bit better. 

“Cult survivor” is a label that brings up a variety of reactions in other people. It may serve me well at cocktail parties when I want new acquaintances to find me fascinating. But it can also put people off. Worse, it can make them reluctant to engage with me professionally. 

On a few occasions, potential clients have said that they aren’t moving forward with me because they’ve seen my writing about this experience. And I’m sure I’ve lost other opportunities for the same reason without being directly told so. 

But the label also comes with professional advantages. It generates curiosity in what I have to say, and it gives me an air of novelty and mystery in my field. I’ve even had clients and colleagues tell me they felt comfortable sharing deeply personal stories with me because I had shared my story first. This meant that I could strengthen my relationships with them and it made our work together even better. 

Despite the trouble the label can cause, I continue to use it. And, because of the trouble it can cause, I think carefully about how I use it. In other words, it's complicated. 

Cult membership is an important part of my story — and I don’t want to hide important things about me from people who are important to me. And it’s important that we destigmatize the conversation about cults so we can better understand (and thus avoid) toxic dynamics and build better organizations. 

I work in team development and organization design. And I know that cult-like dynamics are common in many organizations where they do real harm by creating toxic cultures of influence and abuse. And cult-like organizations are almost always built on shaky strategic foundations of hubris and hype. These foundations inevitably crumble, resulting in lost jobs for employees — and lost money for investors. 

WeWork, Theranos, and FTX all have obvious cult characteristics if you know what you’re looking for. I can’t change Adam Neumann, Elizabeth Holmes, or Sam Bankman-Fried, but I can help individuals and investors avoid falling prey to their manipulative tactics — saving time, money, and peace of mind.

My professional mission is to help good leaders create better organizations. And I also have a personal commitment to help people avoid falling prey to toxic leaders the way I have. 

Recently, it occurred to me that my writing on the topic usually focuses on the psychology and organizational dynamics of cults in general. I don’t often share the details of my experience or even name the group I was in. 

There are a few reasons I prefer to be abstract about my experience, but I’ve realized that doing so might leave too much up to my readers’ imaginations. Worse, it might do a disservice to my goal of generating understanding. 

I hope to rectify this with this article.

What is a cult?

“Cult” is a term that is often misunderstood and misused. Academics tend to prefer “high-demand group” or “high-control group” because these terms are more descriptive. 

I use the word “cult” because it has a strong and immediate resonance. To be clear, I use it to describe a specific type of organization. 

Michael Langone, a psychologist and former executive director of the International Cultic Studies Association, provides one of the most succinct and helpful definitions I’ve found. He says that a cult is any organization that has all three of these characteristics: 

1. Extreme devotion to an individual, ideology  and/or mission; 

2. Manipulative persuasion that recruits new members and keeps current members locked in (e.g. coercive control and undue influence); and 

3. Harm to members, their families, communities and/or society at large. 

My story has all three. 

My Story

In spring of 2006, I was finishing an MBA program and leaving a five-year marriage. It was a time of instability and possibility. I had new skills, perspectives and freedom, but was also in need of work, community, and a sense of purpose.

One evening, I decided to attend a mixer with facilitated communication games. It was at an organization that was compelling and a bit edgy in San Francisco’s SOMA district. I was attracted to it because it had a young, hip vibe, and it was woman-led with seemingly progressive and feminist ideals. 

That Wednesday night, I felt immediately accepted by the group. Several people, many of whom were attractive women, approached me and told me how happy they were that I was there, how insightful they found comments I’d made, and how they hoped I’d come back soon. 

This, of course, was love bombing — a form of manipulative persuasion — and it hooked me right away. I became a regular at the Wednesday night event, and I was invited to spend more time with the group at parties, on dates, in workshops and through volunteer construction work.  

The group steadily asked for more of my time and money, and I willingly gave it. At first, this was because it was fun and I really liked the people there. But, as my commitment grew, so did my fear of letting my new friends down or being seen as not dedicated. This is a common second step of indoctrination.

Once love bombing generates warmth and a desire to be a part of things, the unconditional approval is withdrawn and the new recruit is now asked to prove their commitment. If they take the bait, they begin an addiction-like chase of the  initial high — which they’ll never quite catch again. It’s a powerful form of manipulative persuasion. 

For me, what was at first a fun and interesting leisure activity soon became a central part of my life and identity. 

A few months after my first encounter, the leader held a weekend-long event for insiders only. I was honored to be included. During those grueling two days, we stood at the front of the room one at a time, and our level of commitment was judged by the whole community. When it was my turn, I announced I was quitting my job on the outside and coming in full-time. The extreme devotion had begun.

For the next two years, I lived as part of a residential community with about 40 other members. I worked for the group’s for-profit and nonprofit entities, even though I was never formally employed and was paid little for my labor. I sold my car for the cash, and lived on credit and savings.

I felt I was part of something noble and special; and that we were on a mission to destigmatize female sexuality and promote human connection. I was sure we were going to change the world, and I was happy to be part of something so important.  

I spent all of my waking hours trying to make the group as successful as possible. I cooked, cleaned, and did construction. I helped design, facilitate, and sell workshops and coaching. I even helped recruit new members. 

The public image of the group was edgy and interesting — and a bit weird. There were many people who thought we were doing important work on a taboo topic.

The cult label was thrown around playfully by those of us on the inside, and sometimes accusingly by former members. However, I was too caught up in nonstop activity to pay it much mind. 

The group then began to go more mainstream. The leader gave a TED Talk that got millions of views and published a book that sold well. The group raised money from Silicon Valley entrepreneurs — some of whom were also behind Singularity University. It opened programs and residential houses in NYC, Austin, Las Vegas and a few European cities. 

The group got positive write-ups in media outlets including Vice, New York Times, and Inc. Magazine (where it made the list of fastest-growing companies in America). And its work was endorsed by academics, researchers, and influencers like Deepak Chopra, Gwyneth Paltrow, Tim Ferris and Khloe Kardashian.

My point here is that cults are not always niche groups that only a select few weirdos get behind. They can also be movements that gain wide acceptance from mainstream media and culture.

Through a series of happy accidents, I got out just when it began its mainstream rise. The leader was, yet again, shaking up her core team and I lost my leadership role for a short time. We were also remodeling a new residence, as there was a bedbug infestation in the old one. I rented what I thought was a temporary room in another neighborhood, and I never went back. 

I left the group confused and unsettled, but unsure exactly why. Sure, I was broke and depressed — even suicidal for a time — but I also still revered the leader and their mission. I knew I needed to be out of the group, but I felt like that was a personal failing on my part. 

I also found many of the things I’d learned in the group valuable — and still do. Cults are never all bad; otherwise, no one would ever join one. 

Two years after leaving, I told my story to a new friend who suggested I read Take Back Your Life: Recovering from Cults and Abusive Relationships by Janja Lalich. It described indoctrination in detail and suddenly I saw my story in a new light. I learned that the group had followed a well-worn playbook that many toxic organizations use, and that my experience had been far from unique — and also far from healthy. 

For the next several years, I studied cults and organizational dynamics intensely. I got into therapy to help deconstruct the experience for myself. I also offered support to people who were leaving the group (and other groups like it). 

In 2018, Bloomberg published an article about the group I’d been in and its questionable business practices. I was a source for the reporter.  

The story alleged that the group had stolen wages and forced labor from some members. The story also claimed that the group used sex, or promises of it, to enroll people in its programs. Plus, there were more severe allegations that the group had covered up, or even encouraged, sexual abuse and intimate partner violence. 

The Bloomberg article led to a multi-year federal investigation. During this time, the FBI interviewed me and officially recognized me as a victim. In spring of 2023, the investigation resulted in indictments against the leader and the head of sales. Unless a plea deal is reached, there will be a trial in the next year or so, and I may act as a witness. 

The organization was called OneTaste, but it now operates, albeit in a limited way, under a few different names like Institute of OM and Eros Platform. It has been the subject of several podcasts and a Netflix documentary (I was present when much of the footage used was shot, and you can see me in the B-roll). There's also a book, that I was a source for, coming out in the next year or two. 

I have my own projects as well. 

What’s Next

I will continue to share my experience. I give speeches and interviews about it, and I am slowly working on a memoir, possibly even a podcast. I’ve been approached by documentary teams but have decided not to participate in their projects. I want to control how my story is shared, and the documentary business has a spotty track record when it comes to good reporting on cults. 

I remain cautious about what I share because of the impending legal case and my own recovery. The group also occasionally writes hit pieces about detractors. I know they have interviewed people about me and might have one in the works.

I’m still in therapy and deconstructing the experience. One researcher recommends that former cult members not speak publicly about their experience for at least 10 years after they leave, because it can take so long to really understand the experience. I’m feeling more ready to share every day.

That’s my story. Thank you for reading. 

What I hope you take away from this is that cults are an important topic for anyone who wants to build better organizations, better relationships, and a better world.

If you have concerns about a group you, or someone you know, is in — or you just want to know more about my experience and work — feel free to reach out. 

Cults are common and pernicious. They can be hard to spot, easy to join, and hard to leave — and almost anyone can be hooked by them if caught in the right, vulnerable, moment. But their tactics are well-understood once you know what you’re looking for.

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