Courted by a Cult Leader
I think I almost joined a cult, y’all — for realz!
Last summer I started hanging out with a group that I was told sprung out of the Black Lives Matter protests in Detroit. The first red flag was that in this group of woke BLM ass folks, I was one of two Black lives around the circle. It was bad enough as a Black-identified person in a majority Black city to be in a space predominantly White. More sinister was being invited under one set of pretenses (the false kind) and discovering I’d been misled. Bait and switch? A classic cult move.
Next, I noticed that each time we gathered, the very charismatic leader of the group (reluctant to wear the hat, yet never taking it off, and woe to challengers) would get up and make a speech about what “we” were trying to do. Shit, I had thought we were gathered just to eat some damn pizza. Still, there is nothing inherently cult-like about a group wanting to be intentional about how they want to interact…until the “leader” wrote a manifesto (that they introduced as a manifesto). It was about then I got nervous.
One of the big schemes of the “group” was that they would buy a bunch of city-owed properties in one of Detroit’s more neglected areas (through something called the Land Bank) and create a little commune. I know y’all, I should have run for the hills. A commune? Can you say “Kool-Aid?” If nothing else, it was a sure fire way too infallibly kick off some gentrification.
Being the tractable person I am, I went with the flow to see how things played out. I was even a little gung ho. I was jonesing to be part of a group after months of plague isolation. I was cool (if not a little triggered) when the leader/not leader came on to me. I was flattered and was down for it. They were also (I learned) coming on to another newbie in the group. I started to get full-on repulsed when I discovered they (the leader) was making their way through everyone in the group. I’m down with poly, but this smacked of something exploitative. Fortunately, for once, I kept my panties in place.
The shit hit the fan when I started asking questions and being critical. Y’all know by now, I am inclined to say what is on my mind and I will definitely call things out (not people, just circumstances). The sanctions came fast and furious. Suddenly I wasn’t being invited to gatherings (after hosting several of them in my back yard). The leader informed me they (which translated to the group) needed space from me.” Gradually all of the friends I’d made over about six months of hanging with these moonies, stop taking my calls and canceled all our plans.
If not a bona fide religious cult, it was sure as fuck a cult of personality. It didn’t help that a key member (who may have been the one pulling the strings—behind the curtain) had grown up in an actual cult. Maybe I am, as I already said being over dramatic. Every group of folks coming together to do “weird shit” is not a cult. People getting their community on like they feel like, as long as it’s not (narrowly) hurting other people, it’s none of mine or anyone else’s business far as I care. I’ll say this, if somebody comes at you with a slice of pizza in one hand and their manifesto in the other. Just keep walking.
