One person's description of how she was recruited to a cult

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Looking back, I see that I was in a vulnerable, transitional state. I know now that that’s what cult recruiters look for—they prey on people who’re displaced, or seeking answers in life. At the time, though, I was an over-confident teen who thought she could take on the world all by herself. I thought I knew exactly what I was doing, but really I was lost as hell.

How did the recruiter first approach you?

With food! I was wandering the streets with my giant backpack and I’m sure I looked as starved as I was. He approached me with such warmth and casually offered me a hot meal at the diner down the street. I nodded yes before he even told me his name. It seemed perfectly safe— a warm meal in a well-lit, public place. Believe me, I needed it.

What did you guys talk about during that initial encounter?

Regular stuff, really. He definitely didn’t mention the organization or anything about it that first night. He asked me harmless questions: Where are you from? Why did you leave? What’s your favorite movie? What type of music do you listen to? That kind of thing. I think he was collecting as much information as possible and trying to build trust without setting off any alarms.

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What sort of things did he reveal? And what was your reaction?

He just casually started telling me about all his “close friends,” emphasizing how important they were to him. Sounds sweet, right? I thought he was just the most caring, generous person I’d ever encountered and I felt lucky I’d met him.

At what point did you learn about the organization he was part of?

About a month into our regular meet-ups, he invited me to hang out with him and his friends for the weekend. I said yes because I really trusted the guy. That weekend, I learned that he and his friends all lived together in a compound about a two-hour drive outside the city, and that they worshipped a prophet who claimed to have an ongoing direct dialogue with several higher powers. As I say this, it all sounds bizarre and tough to digest. But in the moment, it didn’t. I swear! What I saw was a group of compassionate, peaceful young adults living in harmony. At a time when I lacked any sense of place or purpose, they welcomed me into their community with open arms.

How did they get you to stick around?

That first weekend was amazing. I was well fed and given fresh clothes to wear. They really coddled me. I felt so loved, as if I was in the company of people who understood me and accepted me just as I was. They also gave me answers to questions I didn’t even realize I’d been asking. Questions about how I wanted to live my life, and what everything meant, you know? The cult had a strict set of rules, of course—about everything from what time you had to wake up to how many hours you had to work and exactly what to say during prayer time—but I liked that sense of order. I took to it because I was desperate to latch onto some kind of identity—I needed something to live for. The prophet and his disciples, as the rest of us were called, gave me that. Plus, I was led to believe that I was unlovable to outsiders—that I was too complicated for anyone but fellow disciples to understand because I’d been chosen. Lucky me!