fell apart, it was because of my family. Outside,
I began having adult relationships with men.
Inside, people cautioned men to stay away from
me because I was unethical.
A senior executive where I worked, born in
Germany, had fought against Hitler’s army and
in Israel’s War of Independence. He said he
could not stand to see anyone brainwashed and
made it his mission to pry me loose. I was ready
to be pried. For years, no matter how I tried, I
could not become the person Siegel and now his
followers insisted was the real me but I could
not imagine myself outside Aesthetic Realism.
Now I was living with one foot in, one foot out,
and I didn’t disintegrate. In fact, for the first
time, I saw a future for myself.
On Christmas Eve, 1985, after a Tuesday class
at the Foundation, I had planned to go with my
parents as we had gone for many years to hear a
midnight performance of the Messiah at
Carnegie Hall. My father said, “You can come
with us if you agree to go out and talk with other
students afterward.”
I refused and went home.
That Friday, I left a note at the reception desk in
the Foundation, addressed to the class chairman,
saying I wanted a leave of absence—which I
knew would never be granted. I walked out of
the building. I never went there again.
My parents had told me that, if I left, it would be
the end of our relationship. They remained true
to their word.
Struggles and Achievements
For a long time, while still in the movement, I
had been uncomfortable with the inside-versus-
outside mentality, the worshipful praise of
Siegel, and the uncritical agreement with his
ideas. People who never read Hegel or Aristotle
called Aesthetic Realism the greatest thought of
all time. Although I opposed anyone who called
Aesthetic Realism a cult, I had to agree inwardly
that much of our behavior justified the word.
Once I was out, I began to learn that what I
thought was a unique experience had parallels in
other movements: a powerful leader playing on
peoples’ fears and guilt a common enemy—in
our case, the press a claim to sole possession of
universal truth lack of privacy and a building
of mental and sometimes physical walls against
the outside world.
I was lucky. I escaped because somehow my
critical voice wouldn’t die. The inner critic of
that insanity, the self I once thought was evil,
was in fact my sanity. When people say I was
courageous to leave, I say it wasn’t courage. It
was desperation. It was either leave or die.
Leaving, however, was only the first challenge.
The mental damage done by a dogma whose
manipulations are so well disguised can be
especially difficult to understand and undo. I
still struggle with garbage imposed on my mind
over 41 years, with inherited views and
limitations. I will turn myself almost inside out
to avoid confrontation I am terrified of seeming
to offend it took me many years to even
recognize the concept of boundaries. I still
cannot watch painful movies, or movies set in
World War II. I still sometimes war with food.
One of the most difficult problems I carry with
me arises from a skill I developed to cope with
the difference between the self I felt inside me
and the self I felt compelled to show. Out of
sheer self-preservation, I learned how to say
exactly what someone wanted to hear, to
understand the role someone wanted me to play,
and to play it convincingly.
This skill has served me well professionally. I
have excelled as an assistant to a chief
executive, knowing before I am asked what that
person needs and being comfortable staying in
the background, deflecting praise or recognition.
I am so good at compliance that, at one agency, I
became the director of compliance with grant
guidelines and government regulations. I have
been able to work well with some people others
fear because I understand and can even
empathize with them. As I work in local
government, I am able to reach across party lines
because I grasp other people’s perspectives.
But this very skill often leaves me bewildered
about what I really feel. I can be persuaded in
one direction, and then persuaded in the opposite
direction. When I agreed to marry my husband,
I asked him not to tell anyone because I was
afraid as time went on I would not agree with
International Journal of Cultic Studies ■ Vol. 5, 2014 43
I began having adult relationships with men.
Inside, people cautioned men to stay away from
me because I was unethical.
A senior executive where I worked, born in
Germany, had fought against Hitler’s army and
in Israel’s War of Independence. He said he
could not stand to see anyone brainwashed and
made it his mission to pry me loose. I was ready
to be pried. For years, no matter how I tried, I
could not become the person Siegel and now his
followers insisted was the real me but I could
not imagine myself outside Aesthetic Realism.
Now I was living with one foot in, one foot out,
and I didn’t disintegrate. In fact, for the first
time, I saw a future for myself.
On Christmas Eve, 1985, after a Tuesday class
at the Foundation, I had planned to go with my
parents as we had gone for many years to hear a
midnight performance of the Messiah at
Carnegie Hall. My father said, “You can come
with us if you agree to go out and talk with other
students afterward.”
I refused and went home.
That Friday, I left a note at the reception desk in
the Foundation, addressed to the class chairman,
saying I wanted a leave of absence—which I
knew would never be granted. I walked out of
the building. I never went there again.
My parents had told me that, if I left, it would be
the end of our relationship. They remained true
to their word.
Struggles and Achievements
For a long time, while still in the movement, I
had been uncomfortable with the inside-versus-
outside mentality, the worshipful praise of
Siegel, and the uncritical agreement with his
ideas. People who never read Hegel or Aristotle
called Aesthetic Realism the greatest thought of
all time. Although I opposed anyone who called
Aesthetic Realism a cult, I had to agree inwardly
that much of our behavior justified the word.
Once I was out, I began to learn that what I
thought was a unique experience had parallels in
other movements: a powerful leader playing on
peoples’ fears and guilt a common enemy—in
our case, the press a claim to sole possession of
universal truth lack of privacy and a building
of mental and sometimes physical walls against
the outside world.
I was lucky. I escaped because somehow my
critical voice wouldn’t die. The inner critic of
that insanity, the self I once thought was evil,
was in fact my sanity. When people say I was
courageous to leave, I say it wasn’t courage. It
was desperation. It was either leave or die.
Leaving, however, was only the first challenge.
The mental damage done by a dogma whose
manipulations are so well disguised can be
especially difficult to understand and undo. I
still struggle with garbage imposed on my mind
over 41 years, with inherited views and
limitations. I will turn myself almost inside out
to avoid confrontation I am terrified of seeming
to offend it took me many years to even
recognize the concept of boundaries. I still
cannot watch painful movies, or movies set in
World War II. I still sometimes war with food.
One of the most difficult problems I carry with
me arises from a skill I developed to cope with
the difference between the self I felt inside me
and the self I felt compelled to show. Out of
sheer self-preservation, I learned how to say
exactly what someone wanted to hear, to
understand the role someone wanted me to play,
and to play it convincingly.
This skill has served me well professionally. I
have excelled as an assistant to a chief
executive, knowing before I am asked what that
person needs and being comfortable staying in
the background, deflecting praise or recognition.
I am so good at compliance that, at one agency, I
became the director of compliance with grant
guidelines and government regulations. I have
been able to work well with some people others
fear because I understand and can even
empathize with them. As I work in local
government, I am able to reach across party lines
because I grasp other people’s perspectives.
But this very skill often leaves me bewildered
about what I really feel. I can be persuaded in
one direction, and then persuaded in the opposite
direction. When I agreed to marry my husband,
I asked him not to tell anyone because I was
afraid as time went on I would not agree with
International Journal of Cultic Studies ■ Vol. 5, 2014 43
