I’m a Black Woman Who Grew Up in a Cult – Here’s Why I’m Finally Talking About It
Published By admin
Growing up in the ’80s and ’90s as a Black girl in the Midwest, I knew early on that my church was different—maybe even “weird”—compared to my peers’. But it wasn’t until years later that I connected my experiences to the word cult, which sent me on a journey to unpack the shame and embarrassment I didn’t even realize I was carrying.
Like many Black households, the church was a cornerstone of my upbringing. However, most of my school friends were Baptist, AME, or Pentecostal. I didn’t really understand what we were, but I knew we were Sabbath keepers. From Friday sundown to Saturday sundown: no work, no parties, no Saturday morning cartoons. (Though my siblings and I did manage to sneak in episodes of He-Man and She-Ra.)
I remember being six and pulled from the class Halloween party because I wasn’t allowed to participate. Heartbroken, I sat alone watching my classmates gobble down candy corn and M&M’s, wondering what was so sinful about dressing up like Barbie.
And while other kids settled into the school year each fall, I was collecting homework assignments ahead of our annual two-week spiritual pilgrimage out of state. Sure, it was a little unorthodox. But I didn’t start questioning the church’s doctrines and ideologies until college. I was taking an intro to theology course and decided to use this new thing called Google to look up my old church. What I found shook me: article after article labeling it a cult.
That couldn’t be right. I had fun in church! We went roller skating and had potlucks that even brought my non-member mom into the fold. Plus, we’re Black. We don’t do cults. Outside of “those Jonestown people,” cults were something that happened to white folks in documentaries. Sure, we might deal with “church hurt,” but cults? Nah. Not us.
Still, I kept digging—reading, researching, and talking to former members. At first, I defined a cult by what I could see. Then I began to understand, through experts, that cults aren’t about optics. You don’t have to live in Waco, wear matching Nikes, or drink the Kool-Aid to be under control. Fear-based obedience, punishment for questioning authority, strict hierarchies, and man-made rules disguised as biblical truths? That’s culty too.
That’s when I finally said out loud: “Oh shit. We were in a cult.”
Content retrieved from: https://www.bet.com/article/i5m3r1/im-a-black-woman-who-grew-up-in-a-cult-heres-why-im-finally-talking-about-it.
