The pictures in this post don’t have anything to do with
the subject matter. I just chose some
random ones to break up the text.
I’ve hinted before, and Bijoux even figured it out and
asked when I’ve talked about growing up in a religion where no holidays were celebrated, but I’ve never actually said it on my blog before. I was raised as a Jehovah’s Witness. I am not one now, and when I first started
blogging, I didn’t think I’d ever write about it publicly. I’ve journaled some; I tend to process and organize
my thoughts by writing.
I am so ashamed of some of the things I used to believe and
of how long it took me to figure out how messed up it was. It’s hard to write about something you’re
ashamed of having been a part of. My
parents are also still very much a part of it.
They don’t know about my blog, but since I use my real name, it wouldn’t
be hard for them to find. It would be
awkward, at best, if they were to read this post.
I’ve been slowly changing my mind about talking about it
publicly. I’ve been through a lot of
therapy and joined some online support groups, and earlier this year, I
participated in an interview for a dissertation someone was writing about the
effects of having been born into and subsequently leaving the Jehovah’s Witnesses. My sister also participated. We have had many, many conversations about
the way we grew up and related things, and the interview questions we were both
asked led us to have a lot more conversations about it.
I received a copy of the dissertation last week. It isn’t available online right now. This is the most similar one I could find. When the one I participated in
becomes available online, I’ll share the link.
I appreciate the fact that we’re all identified by
pseudonyms in the dissertation, but lately, I’ve been thinking more and more
about writing publicly about it. Recently,
I participated in a Meet A Reader interview on The Frugal Girl, and for the
first time ever, I publicly wrote that I left a cult. The comments were overwhelmingly kind and
supportive, so I feel like it’s time to write more about it. I’ve written half of a novel about it, but
even if I ever finish and publish it, it doesn’t feel like enough. I’ve started and deleted this post so many
times because it’s something I’ve felt like I have to get exactly right, but
I’m not sure there is one right way to write about this.
I left the religion when I was in my early 20s, and it took
me even longer than that to realize that I grew up in a cult. Again, not something I’m proud of.
Now, the Jehovah’s Witnesses will vehemently deny that
they’re a cult. I was taught,
practically from the time I could speak, all of the “reasons” and “proof” that
they’re not a cult. However, using the
BITE (Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotional control) model, which was
developed by Steven Hassan “to describe cults’ specific methods to recruit and
maintain control over people,” it’s easy to see that they are, in fact, a
cult.
This video (it’s only about ten minutes long) does a great
job of using the BITE model to explain what a cult is.
This article compares a lot of common cult practices to the
JWs and uses a color-coded system for what applies to them. As a former JW, I think it’s fairly
accurate, though there are some things coded orange (applies to a subsection of
members) that, based on my experiences, I would code as red (absolutely
applies).
I don’t like talking about their beliefs since I wasted my
childhood and teen years on that, but for the purpose of this post, here’s a
rundown of some of their basic beliefs:
They call their churches kingdom halls, what most religions
would call a sermon, they refer to as a talk.
They have some ranks within the organization: elder (can only be held by
men), ministerial servant (can only be held by men), and different levels of
pioneer (can be held by men or women), which require various (large) amounts of
time spent in their preaching work. They
have their own literature, including books, magazines, bible, and hymns (though
they don’t call them hymns).
They’re very patriarchal.
They believe that men are in charge and that women are to be in
subjection to men. Women are not allowed
to hold most positions or address the congregation directly. Women are, however, allowed the “privilege”
of performing more menial tasks such as cleaning and food service, as long as
there’s a man in charge.
Part of their method of control is constant
indoctrination. At the time I was in,
they had meetings three times a week (mandatory attendance) and released new
magazines every week, which you were expected to read and study, as well as
other books and literature.
They refer to their religion as “the truth,” and believe
that all other religions are wrong.
They do not believe in blood transfusions and require their
members to carry cards that say they won’t accept blood transfusions. From the time I was a small child, I was
taught the phrase, “I would rather die than take a blood transfusion.” As children, our parents told us that they
would gladly let us die before they would consent for us to receive a blood
transfusion. As a child, this seemed
normal. As an adult, it’s terrifying to
think how brainwashed they are. I’ve
also realized that “I would gladly let you die,” isn’t a phrase a parent should
ever say to their child.
They’re very insular and discourage members from pursuing
friendships/relationships with anyone outside of the religion. They’re discouraged from becoming friendly
with coworkers or neighbors. They don’t
allow their children to participate in extracurricular activities. Homeschooling isn’t a requirement, but it’s a
very common choice since it allows for more indoctrination of children and
gives them even less exposure to non-members.
If your family members aren’t part of the religion, you’re expected to
severely limit the time you spend with them.
As I’ve mentioned before, they don’t celebrate any holidays, which
further limits the time members are able to spend with non-member extended
family. Since leaving, I’ve learned
that my aunt sent my sister and me Christmas presents that we were never
given.
Higher education, especially for women, is frowned
upon. They teach that the world will end
“very soon,” so it’s unnecessary to get a good-paying job, plan for the future,
or save for retirement.
They don’t practice infant baptism, but instead talk about
being baptized at what they refer to as “the age of accountability.” It’s expected that children born into it are
baptized by their mid-teens, at the very latest. I was baptized when I was ten years old. Because, of course, a ten-year-old should
make a lifelong commitment to something.
While they don’t refer to it as such, what is now known as
purity culture is a huge part of their belief system. They forbid sex before marriage, normal
dating, being alone with a member of the opposite sex, divorce in most
circumstances (including domestic violence situations), and homosexuality. They also have rules about what even married
couples are and aren’t allowed to do in the bedroom.
I think that covers what you need to know for this
post. If you want to know more and/or
you’re interested in other people’s experiences of leaving, I highly recommend
Leah Remini’s documentary.
I was born into the religion, as was my sister. My parents were not. My mom joined the religion through her stepmother,
who became a JW as an adult. These are
the grandparents who died in a car accident when I was six, so I don’t know
what drew her to the religion. My
grandfather on that side resisted becoming a JW for years but was baptized as
one a few months before they died, a fact that later came in very handy for
emotional manipulation to get my sister and me baptized.
My other maternal grandmother was vehemently opposed to the
JWs, and it had a very negative impact on her relationship with my mom, and,
subsequently, us. They didn’t speak from
the time I was five until I was ten.
Later, when I was a teenager, my grandmother began attending the JW
meetings. She was never baptized as one,
but my mom considers her to have been one.
My paternal grandparents studied with the JWs. My grandmother was deeply spiritual and was
interested in learning about a variety of faiths and spiritual practices. My dad joined in some of the studies and
joined that way. My grandparents and
aunt quickly decided that the JWs were not for them, but my dad was all in by
then.
When your parents are in, you’re born in. My sister and I were never given a choice
about being JWs. Our indoctrination began as babies. The JWs don’t separate children from adults
during their services, so from just a few weeks old on, we were subject to the
same messaging and indoctrination as adults.
We were expected to read the literature as soon as we were able to read,
to participate in the meetings, and of course, to participate in their
preaching work.
Our family was considered exemplary in a lot of ways
(though I spent most of my life feeling like I never quite fit in and was
always on the outside looking in). My
parents took us out of public school to homeschool us when my sister was
starting third grade, and I was starting fifth grade. This meant that we had practically no
exposure to anyone who wasn’t a JW. It
also meant that we spent a lot of time in their preaching work; when I was 13,
we started doing what they called pioneering and spent upwards of 90 hours a
month in their preaching work, in addition to the mandatory meetings and
reading their literature. We spent very
little time actually homeschooling, and our education definitely suffered for
it.
I hated it. If you
were to ask my parents, they would tell you that I wanted to do it. The truth is that it was expected, and once
you started, there was almost no way to stop.
I hated feeling like my time was never my own, and never getting to be a
normal kid. Part of the JW meetings is
interviewing people who are thought to be doing what they’re supposed to. The interviews are very scripted and
well-rehearsed. I now know it’s to make
sure the message is what they want.
Once, when I was being interviewed, the interviewer threw in an extra
question along the lines of “What sacrifices do you have to make to spend so
much time in the ministry?” The expected
answer was something along the lines of no sacrifice being too great; I can’t
imagine what else I’d be doing with my time, etc. Well, I panicked and answered honestly, “I
never get to do anything fun, and I just want to stay home sometimes and do
whatever I want.” That was the wrong
answer, and I was required to spend even more time studying their literature
for a few weeks to “adjust my thinking.”
In addition to controlling your time and relationships, the
JWs also control how you dress. Men
aren’t allowed to have facial hair.
Tattoos are forbidden for everyone.
And women are required to dress “modestly.” I was once taken home to change clothes on a
day we’d gone out to go door to door because I was “dressed like a whore and
would tempt men and boys.” I was 14, and
I was wearing a dress that stopped just above my knees.
Because the JWs believe that the world as we know it will
end “any day” and turn into a paradise, there’s absolutely no reason for them
to plan for the future, get a good-paying job, or save for retirement. My dad actually had a decent-paying job, but my
parents took the not planning for the future thing to an extreme level. As a result, we grew up in a very financially
unstable home where utilities were regularly turned off, checks were regularly
bounced, and any extra expense was a disaster.
I think my sister and I owe our desire for an education to
our paternal grandmother. She talked to
us a lot about getting an Associate’s degree and the importance of an
education. In hindsight, I think she
knew our parents would actively try to stop us from getting a college degree,
but going to a community college could be seen as a way to a part-time job that
would allow us to spend more time on things the JWs wanted us to.
There are basically three ways to leave the JWs once you’re
baptized as one.
The first is one you might be familiar with, called
disfellowshipping. It’s their version of
shunning. It’s what happens if you’re
caught breaking their rules and aren’t adequately repentant. They have what they call a judicial
committee, made up of at least three elders (all men) who decide your
fate. I’ve never experienced one myself,
but I’m told by people who have that the process is humiliating. For many young people who are born in and
disfellowshipped, it’s because they’ve been accused of engaging in some form of
sexual activity. I’m told the questions
(even if the person is a minor) include things like position, birth control,
orgasm, etc. Refusal to answer any of the
questions means you have a bad attitude/aren’t repentant, and you’ll be
disfellowshipped. Answering the
questions doesn’t mean you won’t be disfellowshipped. If they decide your sins were so egregious or
that you’re not repentant enough, you’re disfellowshipped. They make the announcement that you’ve been
disfellowshipped at one of their meetings, and then no one speaks to you. Your entire family, all of your friends,
pretty much everyone you’ve ever known if you were born in, treats you like
you’re dead or invisible. You’re still
allowed to attend the kingdom hall, but you have to sit in the back by yourself,
and no one will speak to you. If they’re
legally able to, your parents will more than likely throw you out of their
home. If you’re allowed to stay, no one
will speak to you; you won’t even be allowed to eat a meal with the rest of
your family. I saw this happen to so
many of the kids I grew up with. Even at
funerals, they weren’t allowed to sit with their families, and no one was
allowed to speak to them or hug them.
The second way to leave the JWs is what is known as
disassociating yourself. You’re required
to write a letter to your congregation saying that you no longer wish to be a
JW. You’re treated just like someone who
is disfellowshipped. The only difference
is that there’s no judicial committee.
Basically, it means you make the decision instead of letting someone
else. You still lose your family,
friends, and everyone you know.
The third way to leave (which is what my sister and I did)
is known as the slow fade. It’s not
officially recognized by the JWs, and if either of us got involved with them
again (which we never will!), we’d be disfellowshipped. You just stop going to their meetings and
stop participating in their activities.
It’s pretty much impossible to do this as a minor or even as an adult if
you live with JW parents, but once you’re an adult on your own, it becomes a
lot easier. The one huge downside is
that they still see you as being able to be brought back to the congregation. My sister and I have both moved to other
states and have dealt with our parents sending people from the local
congregations to our homes to essentially harass us. The upside to leaving this way is that our
parents still speak to us. The
relationship is very strained at times, but for now, we still have a
relationship with them. We’re both very
aware that our relationship with our parents is a gray area according to their
doctrine and that if the JW’s official position on people who have left by
fading away like we did ever changes, our parents will stop speaking to
us. I love my parents, and they weren’t
bad parents, but they made a lot of bad decisions based on being in a
cult. To say that things are complicated
is a massive understatement.
I wish I could tell you that there was a big lightbulb
moment that made me leave, but there really isn’t. Getting to go to community college was a huge
step toward leaving. It was the first
time I really spent much time with people who weren’t JW’s and learned how to
think and learn. Getting my first job as
a paralegal also played a big part in finally leaving. It was an hour away from where I grew up, and
I think that geographical distance made a huge difference for me. In a lot of ways, it’s easier to physically
leave what you’ve always known. It also
helped that I worked for the prosecutor’s office, and got to see people who
weren’t JWs doing a lot of good in the world.
One of the things the JWs really pound into their kids is that the world
is a terrible place and that no one who isn’t a JW is really a good person;
they’re all out to get you or harm you in some way. Finally seeing how untrue that is was a huge
eye-opener.
It also helped a lot that my sister was leaving around the
same time. It took us years to talk
about a lot of things, but seeing her do the same thing, and that she was also
alright, was very helpful.
And I was just a lot happier. It was very liberating to feel like I was
finally in charge of my own life.
Of course, meeting Nick is one of the best things in my
life. I knew for sure that I’d never be
a JW again by the time I met him, but having been one carries a lot of baggage,
and he handles my baggage very well.
It’s an incredibly difficult conversation to have to tell the person
you’re dating that your parents may at some point treat you like you’ve
died. Because my parents gave my and my
sister’s contact information to people we knew when we were JWs, I received
some incredibly hateful phone calls and letters after Nick and I got
engaged. Some of them were so horrible
that we strongly considered hiring private security for our wedding. To this day, I won’t answer a call from a
number I don’t recognize.
Nick not only put up with all that but was incredibly
supportive. He also puts up with my childlike enthusiasm
for the holidays and has patiently explained them to me. Nick’s mom, Susan, has also patiently
explained so much about holidays and birthdays to me (and to my sister).
Leaving what I now know is a cult wasn’t easy, but I can’t
imagine having stayed. I would never
want the life I would have had if I had stayed.
I would never have met and married Nick, my sister and I wouldn’t be
close, and I wouldn’t have gotten as close to my aunt as I have. It’s weird sometimes trying to figure out how
to navigate certain social situations, though that has gotten much better with
time. My sister aptly describes it as
being like a foreign exchange student who not only has to learn the language
but also has to learn social customs and nuances. I think that really fits.
Thank you for reading this far. I know this is a long post, and I’m not sure
it’s my best writing. It was difficult
to write, but it feels good to have written.
As I mentioned earlier, Leah Remini’s documentary is a
great resource if you want to know more about leaving the JWs. I also highly recommend the book Shunned: How I Lost My Religion
and Found Myself by Linda Curtis. And, recently, I’ve
connected with another JW survivor online who has written some articles on Medium that you might enjoy.
