Jehovah’s Witnesses and Amway: Dissimilar Faces of Thought Reform

A friend, a family member, an acquaintance, or perhaps a stranger approaches you. A conversation is initiated regarding a problem in the world or your life that is in need of solution. A solution is presented, a hope for the future that can make numerous troubles disappear. If you show interest, you are presented with information that details your part in making the solution happen. You may allow yourself to be further educated on the solution. You learn more clearly the actual source of the solution, the organization that the presenting party represents. Beginning a process of education by the organization, you attend meetings where you are showered with affection and friendly interest. Soon, you are required to bring this same solution to the attention of others, friends, family, acquaintances and finally strangers. You are trained to teach others as you continue to be taught, and everyone involved is to look forward to the wonderful hope for the future. While you are discouraged by the organization from continuing association with anyone who is negative about your new found hope for the future, your entire life becomes centered on making your hope a reality, and everything you do and everyone you associate with is a part of the bigger plan.
Each of us may be familiar with an organization that recruits in the manner I describe. There is certainly more than one possibility, and I am presenting here two seemingly disparate organizations that use recruiting techniques that would be illustrated by the process I have presented. One promises financial salvation, the other eternal salvation. I refer to the multi-level-marketing organizations created by the very successful individual distributors of Amway Corporation products, and to the religious organization Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Besides the initial approach, are there other similarities between these two organizations? Interestingly, when one looks into the published research, the literature of the organizations, and the stories told by previous members of either of these two organizations, the similarities in description reach deep inside. The tactics used within the organizations in order to motivate members in the behaviors required by the organization are strikingly parallel, and the effects on the lives of the individuals subjected to them are comparable. It is interesting to note that many ex-members of each of the two organizations mentioned have left those organizations with a position of strong opposition to the tactics of the organization. They often describe the organization from which they have departed as a cult, and consider themselves to have been manipulated by the leadership and other members within the group. When analyzing the practices of the Amway organizations and the Jehovah’s Witnesses, one will find that many of the similarities in behavior between the two groups are able to be categorized as what have been recognized as “thought control (Lifton 419-437)” or “brainwashing (Brown 26-28)” tactics.
During the initial stages of “prospecting” someone to become a distributor, the Amway representative will ask the individual to reveal his dreams and goals. The Amway recruiter will also attempt to inspire dreams and goals in his recruit is by taking him through the process of what Amway distributors refer to as “dreambuilding.” The recruit may be encouraged to shop around for material things he would like to acquire when his Amway business has become successful. In his analysis, Michael Pratt, finds that the dreams Amway draws upon are typically related to material wealth and possessions, independence from a traditional job, happiness for the family as may be provided by a better financial position, or the using of increased income to some altruistic end. Pratt compares the use of “dreambuilding” by Amway to the typically religious application of the term “seekership” wherein “a desire to find meaning that originates from a discontentment about who one is” has been instilled in the subject (Pratt 464). He describes this creating of seekership as part of a process used by Amway in which sensebreaking and the creation of seekership are followed by sensemaking as guided by the organization (Pratt 464-465) This process of sensebreaking, wherein the individual needs to resolve some unsatisfied dream, being followed by a sensemaking process, as fed by the organization, and in which the organization provides the solution to the problem or problems now facing the subject, is not unlike the approach of the Jehovah’s Witness ministry. First, the Witness approaches the potential student with one of a variety of problems facing the world of mankind or the individual. The problem may be war, illness, death, racism or anything that can open up the need for a solution. The prospective convert is then guided to the only “true” solution to such problems, the god of the Christian bible, as the Jehovah’s Witnesses understand him. In both Amway and the Jehovah’s Witnesses, there is a pattern of sensebreaking followed by sensemaking as guided by the ideology of the organization. This approach is just as that described by J.A.C. Brown in his Techniques of Persuasion From Propaganda to Brainwashing, where he writes of the approach of the propagandist, “Ordinarily he will want to arouse a desire for some goal, with a view to suggesting at a later stage that he alone has the means of satisfying that desire (24).”
In his Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism, Dr. Robert Jay Lifton lists specific criteria found in his extensive research on “brainwashing” as carried out by communists in China (Lifton, 419-437). These criteria, “Milieu Control”, “Mystical Manipulation”, “The Demand for Purity”, “The Cult of Confession”, “The Sacred Science”, “Loading the Language”, “Doctrine Over Person”, and “The Dispensing of Existence” (419-437), have been widely recognized and continue to be applied in research related to the subject of mind control.
Lifton considers “Milieu Control” the most fundamental of all the criteria. He recognizes this as the control of the environment of the individual wherein the information to which he exposes himself, his communication and association with others, and even his communication with himself is under the regulation of the organization (420). Lifton also notes that the leaders of the organization have no need to conceal the fact that they are controlling the environment of those within the organization as these leaders consider themselves to be carrying out a necessary function to which they are entitled in their position of being the owners of truth. He explains that these leaders “consider it their duty to create an environment containing no more and no less than this ‘truth’ (421).”
Jehovah’s Witnesses can be said to practice milieu control in that they discourage members’ association with anyone who is not a Jehovah’s Witness or an interested person. They consider those on the outside to be “worldly” people who are “bad association” and dangerous (PAYF, 22). In fact, as soon as one begins to study with the Witnesses, association with nonbelievers is viewed negatively. The student of the Witnesses is told that any discouraging remarks from friends, relatives, or others are really the tactics that Satan uses to keep them from learning the truth about the one true god. If this tactic is successful, it isolates the individual during the time in which he should be fully exposed to opposing and supporting views of the information he is receiving so that he can make a decision with all available information.
Information continues to be controlled by the organization as, over time, the student learns that “independent thinking” is something to be fought against (WT 1/15/83 p27). Independent thinking is viewed as a part of Satan’s plan, as illustrated in this quote from one article in the Watchtower, a journal used for study by the Jehovah’s Witnesses: “To this day, it has been Satan’s subtle design to infect God’s people with [independent] thinking.--2Timothy 3:1,13,21 How is such independent thinking manifested? A common way is by questioning the counsel that is provided by God’s visible organization (WT 1/15/83, 22).” In fact, anyone who teaches that the Jehovah’s Witness’ teachings are not the “truth” are considered “apostate” and evil, and no witness is to speak with such persons or read anything that has been written by them (WT 3/15/86 “Have No Dealings With Apostates” p12).” Jehovah’s Witnesses are instructed to “hate” or “feel a loathing” for those who teach that the Witnesses are not correct in their beliefs (WT 10/1/93,19). Anyone within the organization who disagrees with the teachings of the “governing body,” those men who are responsible for the literature and teachings of the
Jehovah’s Witnesses, will be disfellowshipped from the organization so that no Witness is able to speak to that person and be influenced by his thinking (WT 12/15/84 19).
Although it is perhaps less strictly regulated, the environment of the Amway distributor does come under the influence of environmental control. Amway distributors are fed the Amway “ideology” via something called the “Amway system” that “consists of books, tapes, seminars and rallies (“Building” 40).” Michael Pratt in “The good, the Bad, and the
Ambivalent: Managing Identification among Amway Distributors,” describes the management of Amway distributor relationships. He explains that association with those in your “upline” and “downline,” those who have brought you into Amway and those whom you have brought in, are considered very important, and that association with anyone who is discouraging about your goals in Amway is considered harmful. As an Amway “distributor,” one who has committed to sell Amway products, you are to attempt to get others to do the same. This starts with friends and family. You are taught that anyone among them who is not supportive or interested in joining Amway is not a “true friend”. Pratt also notes that the practice of distributors recruiting and training new distributors helps to ensure that much of the member’s time is spent with others who are supportive of Amway (GBA 470-473).
The Jehovah’s Witness is required to spend time every month attempting to convert others (Stark 137). He is also expected to attend and participate in a number of meetings every week, and to study in preparation for those meetings (Stark 146-7). This controls a great deal of the Witnesses’ time and social environment in which he is either teaching others about the beliefs of the Witnesses or he is studying them himself.
Milieu control by both the Jehovah’s Witnesses and Amway may partially explain why these two organizations continue to successfully recruit individuals. Both groups make great effort to protect members and interested persons from negative perspectives on the organizations. The result is as recognized by Lifton where he notes that the individual under this type of environmental control is “deprived of the combination of external information and inner reflection which anyone requires to test the realities of his environment and to maintain a measure of identity separate from it.”(421) Members are repeatedly exposed only to information that supports the reality the organization wants them to recognize.
It may be difficult for an outsider to understand why recruits of these organizations are willing to accept the restrictions set by the leadership or “upline.” One explanation can be found in Leon Festinger’s A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance. He explains the drive of the individual to prevent himself from being exposed to information that will call into question his current understanding and or worldview:
1. The existence of dissonance, being psychologically uncomfortable, will motivate the person to try to reduce the dissonance and achieve consonance.
2. When dissonance is present, in addition to trying to reduce it, the person will actively avoid situations and information which would likely increase the dissonance. (3)
According to Festinger, this avoidance of conflicting information would be especially strong in cases where a significant decision or decisions have been made based on a particular ideology (130). In line with Festinger’s theory, Pratt notes that when free choice is involved, such as with the Amway distributor who is given the choice to become socially encapsulated within the Amway organization, that such “freely chosen” behaviors are “highly committing (GBA 474)”.
Lifton recognizes “mystical manipulation” as the “inevitable next step after milieu control (Lifton 422). Following the recruit’s acceptance of the environmental and informational boundaries placed on himself, and his drive to prevent dissonance, this “mystical manipulation” by the organization becomes acceptable to the recruit, perhaps greatly desired as evidence of the correctness of his choice to join the group. Using “mystical manipulation,” Lifton indicates that the leadership will establish themselves as the source of truth.
Within the literature of Jehovah’s Witnesses, members are taught to recognize the leaders as the source of truth as ordained by God. The members are taught to avoid independent thinking and to follow the guidance of the leaders of the organization as they are the “channel of communication that God is using (WT 12/1/81)” ,(WT 9/1/89 15; WT 8/1/81 26;WT 8/15/84 9).
While Amway leaders do not appear to make outright claims of having been chosen by God or other to instruct members in their way of life, they do lead the distributors to see them as mentors that are to be sought for counsel related to a broad range of life decisions. Amway distributors who have been successfully brought into organizational thinking have come to recognize their “upline” members as parental figures and advisors (Pratt 475). These “upline” members become significant in helping the distributor form an understanding of the world around him. As explained by Pratt, these members “viewed their upline as critical sources of meaning in their lives. Among distributors who engaged in this type of sense-making, information from upline members -- and other sources of Amway information (e.g. , tapes, books, functions) --- was highly valued (GBA 476). “ Some previous members of Amway contend that the upline will instruct distributors regarding when and which house or car to buy, jewelry to wear, and books to read. They also concur that distributors are to listen to the counsel of the upline based on the premise that the upline would not counsel the downline distributor to do anything that would be harmful to the distributor, and would only direct the downline distributor to do what is beneficial to himself as it will result in benefit to his upline (Hoagland 9,Butterfield 26).
This type of manipulation is subtly evident in the way in which the Jehovah’s Witnesses and Amway proselytizers tell new recruits that certain outcomes will occur as a result of a person’s interest in participating in their organizations. Witnesses inform the student that
“Satan” will attempt to prevent them from learning the “truth” by causing friends and family to oppose his studying with the Witnesses. Amway recruiters tell prospective distributors that they must prepare for the fact that some of their friends and family members will be unsupportive of their interest and therefore prove themselves not to be true friends (Pratt, “GBA” 473). These predictions, always accurate simply because they describe normal reactions to the situation, take the form of prophecy when they are seen to be fulfilled. Quoting one Amway distributor regarding advice and counsel from her upline, “EVERYTHING they say is true (Amway distributor as quoted in Pratt, "GBA" 476).
As a result of leaders having convinced members of the group to see them as sources of ultimate truth, there is no room for questioning the statements of these leaders. Explaining his “sacred science” criteria, Lifton writes:
The totalist milieu maintains an aura of sacredness around its basic dogma, holding it out as an ultimate moral vision for the ordering of human existence. This sacredness is evident in the prohibition (whether or not explicit) against the questioning of basic assumptions, and in the reverence which is demanded for the originators of the Word, the present bearers of the Word, and the Word itself. (Lifton 427-428)
For the Jehovah’s Witness, the governing body of the organization is seen as being the vessel of God, and not to be questioned in it’s authority (Stark & Iannaccone 146). Interestingly, Stephen Butterfield, an Ex-Amway distributor, writes of Amway that it not only offers the “dream of wealth,” but also “a faith to live by, a purpose to live for,” “a new set of goals and friends and associations and beliefs [...] in which all authority comes from the top down (4).” Amway is an organization that centers its ideology on religious values (“Building” 53) and in which, as Pratt notes, the “upline distributors act as sensegivers (GBA 474).”
In describing the "demand for purity" that he recognizes as a key element in thought control environments, Lifton explains a view of the world as sharply divided into pure and impure, "the absolutely good and the absolutely evil." He observes recognition by the organization of all thoughts and actions in agreement with the group ideology as “good and pure” while anything outside of these approved behaviors would be seen as “bad and impure”(423). This division of the world leaving anyone outside the group as being evil, ignorant, or in opposition to the only truth, becomes the “dispensing of existence” criteria wherein the member sees the group ideology as the only “valid mode of being” (433-434).
For the Jehovah’s Witness, the world is divided precisely in the manner described by Lifton. There are those who are Jehovah’s Witnesses, following the direction of the organization that represents the one true god Jehovah, and there are those on the outside, they being a part of Satan’s world (“WRRW” par.6-10). Dr. Jerry Bergman, in his "Paradise Postponed and Postponed: Why Jehovah's Witnesses Have a High Mental Illness Level," writes regarding the prohibitions the Watchtower places on Jehovah's Witnesses that these "reach into every area of life and cover minutia to the extreme." He describes how missing required meetings or associating with non-Witnesses outside of ministering to them is "condemned." Bergman explains that "they are taught that those of the world are evil, and even though worldly people may appear to be kind, this is one of Satan's tactics to lure people out of God's organization (5)."
The enactment of a “demand for purity” is also evident in the practice of publicly reproving or disfellowshipping those who do not obey the demands of the group.
Lifton describes an environment where the extreme expectations of the group result in members being continuously manipulated by guilt and shame:
Thought reform bears witness to its more malignant consequences: for by defining and manipulating the criteria of purity and then by conducting an all-out war upon impurity, the ideological totalists create a narrow world of guilt and shame. This is perpetuated by an ethos of continuous reform, a demand that one strive permanently and painfully for something which not only does not exist but is in fact alien to the human condition. (Lifton 424)

Regarding Amway, Pratt notes that there is an effort by the organization to counsel members in “many areas of life: business, family, friends, and religion (“Building” 44). In Pratt’s analysis, he
finds a strong enforcement of spiritual values being presented to the Amway distributor as the source of success in financial terms. The individual’s having achieved financial independence is seen within Amway as a reflection of “God’s favor (“Building” 49).” Regarding his Amway experience, Stephen Butterfield reveals his understanding of the division between Amway and the outside world when he writes:
Moreover, to many of the leaders, anyone who sees the Amway “opportunity” and does not join is, purely and simply, a loser; and losers deserve to be broke, losers deserve to work wall their lives for low pay and retire on nothing. Poverty is the fault of the poor. Wealth is a sign of Grace.” (5)
Upline distributors, as noted by Pratt, believe that an Amway business is better than any other home business because of the lower start-up costs and the upline guidance you receive within the Amway organization. The expectation that any former friend will, either “wise up” and become supportive of Amway, or will prove not to be a true friend after all, is evidence of the division between the group and the outside world (GBA 472). One can only conclude that, if Amway is the opportunity it claims to be, and that God will bless anyone who makes the proper effort with success in the business, that a lack of success in the business indicates insufficient effort and a need to work harder or do more. Whether implied or explicit, this view would, in some cases, lead to a form of guilt and shame as motivation for the unfruitful distributor to become more involved in seeking his dreams through developing his business. As observed by one Ex-Amway distributor, John Hoagland, “If the “system for success doesn’t work for you, then YOU aren’t doing what you need to be doing. YOU know what has to be done (or hear it again from your upline), so go out and do it.” (Hoagland 5).”
As a result of many of the practices of the Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Amway organizations, some have chosen to define these groups as “cults.” It is not necessarily useful in itself to prove that an organization should be defined as a cult, but it can be useful if the term “cult” has been clearly defined as it has been used in the particular case of categorization. This is true simply because the definition of “cult” varies depending on the employer of the term. Some may apply a broad use of the term, such as in Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary, where it is simply defined as “A system of religious belief and worship,” as in “That which was the religion of Moses is the ceremonial or cult of the religion of Christ.” Other usage is more specific, and has a negative connotation to most readers, as in the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language: “A religion or religious sect generally considered to be extremist or false, with its followers often living in an unconventional manner under the guidance of an authoritarian, charismatic leader.” Perhaps the most useful definition in analyzing the groups we discuss and others like them is that presented by the American Family Foundation:
Cult (totalist type): A group or movement exhibiting a great or excessive devotion or dedication to some person, idea, or thing and employing unethically manipulative techniques of persuasion and control (e.g., isolation from former friends and family, debilitation, use of special methods to heighten suggestibility and subservience, powerful group pressures, information management, suspension of individuality or critical judgement, promotion of total dependency on the group and fear of leaving it, etc.), designed to advance the goals of the groups leaders, to the actual or possible detriment of members, their families, or the community. (West and Langone as quoted in Longone)

Accepting this definition of the totalist cult, we can more specifically analyze the organizations in question and see that they fall into a sort of “gray area” or “borderline” in relation to the level in which they fulfill the criteria of this definition.
It would be more useful, rather than labeling such groups, to use these groups as examples to promote knowledge of how mind control environments operate in cases that are less extreme than those more obvious cases where the manipulation is more evident and the consequences more severe. It is significant to note that thought control does exist, and that it is not only found in environments of physical isolation, but also in communities such as the Witnesses and Amway, where the members are living in typical environments among non-members. Just as the thought control exists in varying degrees in these two organizations, there is more than one package in which this type of environment can present itself. Awareness of the tactics used by these organizations, and how they fit in the thought reform environment, is helpful in allowing us to identify these traits when they appear in other forms in our environment. Knowledge is prevention in the case of such groups where information is often the enemy.




Works cited


Bergman, Jerry. “Paradise Postponed…and Postponed: Why Jehovah’s Witnesses have a High Mental Illness Level,” Christian Research Journal. Summer 1996

Brown, J.A.C. Techniques of Persuasion from Propaganda to Brainwashing. Middlesex, England: Penguin Books, 1963.

Butterfield, Stephen. Amway: The Cult of Free Enterprise. Boston: South End Press. 1985

“Cult.” The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language. Fourth Ed. 2000

“Cult.” Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary. 1996.

Festinger, L. A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1957.

Hoagland, John. Amway: The Continuing Story. 16 March 2003 http://www.cocs.com/jhoagland/amcult.html.

Langone, Michael. On Using the term Cult. 13 March 2003. http://www.csj.org/rg/rgessay_cult.htm

Lifton, Robert Jay. Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism. New York: Norton, 1961 (Republished by University of North Carolina Press, 1989)

“Pay Attention to Yourselves and to All the Flock” Acts 20:28. [PAYF] Brooklyn, NY: Watchtower Bible and Tract Society of Pennsylvania, 1991.

Pratt, Michael G. “Building an Ideological Fortress: The Role of Spirituality, Encapsulation and Sensemaking,” Studies in Cultures, Organizations, and Societies 6.1 (Mar 2000): 35+.

---. ”The Good, The Bad, and the Ambivalent: Managing Identification Among Amway Distributors,” Administrative Science Quarterly 45 (2000): 456-493.

Stark, Rodney and Laurence R. Iannaccone. “Why the Jehovah’s Witnesses Grow so Rapidly,” Journal of Contemporary Religion 12.2 (1991): 133-157.

The Watchtower Announcing Jehovah’s Kingdom [WT]. Watchtower Bible and Tract Society of New York, Inc. 1/15/1983
--- 3/15/1986
---12/15/1984
---12/1/1981
---9/1/1989
---8/1/1981
---8/15/1984

AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE... ***names have been changed*** OK, so I was not the kinda kid to make a fundamentalist Christian mother proud. And maybe that's where it all started. When I was 13, I was over the good girl getting nowhere thing. So I decided to have some fun. "Hey Kate, can I have a cigarette? Why don't we play Barbies for old time's sake, and have a little vodka to make it interesting. Pool party or horse farm set?" Since mom was busy yelling about her miserable existence on a daily basis, she didn't exactly have time to notice that it was a rare occasion to find me home in my bed sleeping on any given night. Even if I did make like I was in my bedroom, securely slumbering, there was the draw of the ever-so-easy escape route out my back window that got me every time. Open the hatch-window, slip out onto the laundry-room roof, tip-toe along the beams that supported that potato-chip rippled fiberglass that made the roof of a slapped-up carport, and then down the tree on the far side. Ten minutes walk to find some source of sweet sippable solace from all your troubles. In a small town full of disheartened drinkers, it's never a difficulty for a young gal to happen upon some happily handed-out provisions for a private party. Never. Maybe ends up being a trade-off at times, a little making-out with a man or two, but that's entertainment. 

 There were those two times when she, surprisingly, became aware of my absence. One of those times was when sections of the town were washed away by Hurricane David, and I sat watching the whole thing from an ice-house on the riverfront. I dig watching storms on the water up close, and I didn't think that my invisibility would suddenly become evident to those responsible for my care. The second time was a bit more trouble. It was 3AM, and I was out drinking with the-man-who-called-me-"buddy," because to use any real descriptive terms of our relationship would have landed him in the slammer. His phone rings. It's my best friend, Kate. Turns out mom is looking for me. OK, hop in the blue-with-gray-primer chevy pickup truck we 3, Kate, Dave, and me, had named Alouicious. Of course, we're toasted, and he's kinda scared. So he drops me around the corner from my house. I tip-toe through the neighbor's back yard and up to the back door. All the lights are on. I step inside, and there they are, Kate's mom and my mom, sitting at the table. Kate's mother makes for the door in haste, so as not to witness the wrath that will be unleashed on this ridiculously-drunken girl with signs of naughty all over her neck. Yes, my "buddy" was a rather possessive man, and had unwittingly decided to make his mark on his territory that night. So I had to lie. No, I wasn't with Dave. I was with Duane. Yes, I know I'm not supposed to hang out with Duane, and I'll never do it again. The yelling didn't stop, and soon she had a handful of my hair, and began pounding my head against the wall in some strange consistent rhythm. Her mantra, "Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this?" repeated over and over to the beat of bone against board. So I'm thinking to myself, it kinda feels like this is happening to me, but I'm glad the Jack Daniels is interfering with my ability to feeeeel it. Soon I was in my bedroom, lost in silent slumber. Of course, I had to check in every two hours the following day. Then all was back to normal. Same old routines, same old escape every evening. 

 AIN'T THAT A KICK part 2 

 My drinking buddy, Dave, taught me a lotta things. We would often have some drinks before he would give me driving lessons on Aluicious. He had to yell at me a lot, because the truck was a standard, and I wasn't quite strong enough or tall enough to get the clutch all the way in and shift every time. Three days after my fifteenth birthday, he wanted to celebrate with me in a special way. We had a fifth of JD, went to the fireman's carnival where he won a stuffed animal parakeet for me, and then back to his place. "I want to make love to you," he said. I was still a virgin after all the making out we had been doing. "I want you to, but..." Well, all he heard was the "I want you to" part. So he picked me up and carried me over the threshold, into the bedroom, and we consumated our buddyhood in honor of my birthday. "OOOOOOOUUUUUUUCH! That hurts!" I was pushing him off of me. "It wouldn't hurt if I could help it," he kept moving in and out, and it felt like the pushing of a knife in and out of an open wound. I finally managed to pry him off with my feet. Now I figured I had to marry him. No kidding. I had failed God enough in my opinion, so I was gonna do the right thing at least a little bit. He asked me if I was sure I would be OK walking home on my own at 4AM after all that drinking. "Yeah, sure, you sleep," I said. On the walk back, I did kinda think what about some kind of chivalry here? I'm a young gal walkin home on her own at four o'clock in the morning, after losing my virginity to this man 10 years my senior, and he's snoring. Damn. Oh, well. How to make sure no one sees me arriving home as if I've been out all night. I got it, I'll wait on the porch for a while, walk in like all is well, and tell them I got up real early and took a walk. Yup, it worked like a charm. No problems. Funny, I feel like I could use a nap now... So I was now officially the girlfriend. Word spread around town. It was nice for me. Somebody loved me for a change. That's what he said, and I believed him. He gave me more attention than anyone else ever had. There's your proof. 

Duane died that same week. I couldn't believe it. Drunk driving. I was still bleeding from Dave's making me his woman, and this other guy who I had known as my first Big-Fat-Crush-Obsession was killed instantly when the car in which he had been riding with his cousin Charlie hit a telephone pole. They were both high on coke and drunk beyond functional when it happened. What a loss. He was a beautiful boy, and only 17. Kate and I had this strange inclination to pour Jack Daniels over the grave. At that time, in that town, it didn't seem like there was any link between drunk driving and death, even when it happened. It was as if it were some coincidence. I lived in another town two years later when the same thing happened to our friend Carrie. I got a call from Kate. It was alcohol and cocaine. She went off the road. 19 years old. And engaged to be married. She and her fiancee had gotten in a fight that night, and she had dealt with it the way people do, with a bottle in her hand and something extra to really numb the pain. 

 Eventually, all the DWI's caught up with Dave. He spent about a year in the work-release program of a Baltimore prison. He would go to work during the day on deisel engines, meet me for a quick comforting in between, then head into his prison quarters for the night. When I moved to another state, and we couldn't see each other, he would write to me and send me cards. It was then that I realized the man was basically illiterate. He couldn't spell. I never knew. When he got out of the program, he came to visit. He brought me an engagement ring. I thought it was beautiful. I wore it and watched it glimmer in the sunshine. Mom was worried. She said it must mean that he wants to have sex with me. "Oh, please, don't be ridiculous," was my response. Meanwhile, as she made us keep my bedroom door open while he hung out in my room, we did it against the wall just behind the door, the only hidden spot. I thought we were so creative and clever. Then again in the bathroom, over the sink, then fix ourselves up and walk out just in time to bump into mom on her way in. Everything on the up and up to the observer's eye. 

 I broke up with Dave after one more visit. It seems that I got used to being without him, and now he was making a nuisance of himself. He was once again yelling at me for the way I was driving, and this time I had had my fill. I threw that ring at him and told him to drive himself back where he came from.

REHOBOTH BEACH BETTY 

 Kate and I got into punk rock in the early 80's, even though we had to travel a distance to find the stuff. Looking back, it is a little laughable now to recall the way we spray painted the Dead Kennedy's symbol on our shirts and thought it was really radical. But I really got into the scene after moving to Delaware when I was 15. My brothers and I found this shop at Argo's Corner full of combat boots and other military garments. The owner was a really wacked-out Vietnam Vet who also had a book of photos that he liked to show all the kids. It was horrid. Photos of all kinds of damaged bodies and body parts in an album he cherished. We indulged him by our viewing just long enough to find the right five-dollar boots and a jacket or two. He always had a story about every item. "Yeah, someone got killed wearing that one." In the summer of 1986, a bunch of us kids were living in a trailer in Rehoboth Beach. One girl, Marnie, had managed to convince her parents that she needed to live in their summer place so she could recover from that year's mental anguish, and it quickly turned into a crash pad for all the little punkers. Those days were all about Black Flag playing in the background while cigarettes burned and bottles were emptied, turning already troubled teenagers into even more mischeivous little monsters. Specimen was the worst. His real name was Mike, but nobody called him that. It became shortened to 'Spess' by most of us. He would always get violent after liquor, and one of the hero types among us, usually my brother, Michael, would have to pry him off the latest target of his angst.  

 Then there was the apartment on Highway 1. When some blotters came around, it got pretty interesting at our place. Someone even slipped some of the acid to my albino pet rat, Ian. He was running back and forth in his cage like he was on fire. That was pretty disturbing. But I think they were not intending to cause him harm. A couple of my friends thought they could spread some happiness by slipping blotters to as many people as possible, and maybe even pets. I remember watching my friend Marnie speaking to me as the acid I dropped made her hair look like one of those funky lamps from Spencer's, lighting up at the roots and then color-light shooting out to the tips. That was distracting. 

 I managed to finish high school even while moving around from place to place. They almost expelled me just before graduation for lack of attendance since I only managed to show up about three days a week. But I did have passing grades in all of the college preparatory courses in which they had placed me, and my SAT scores, even after testing with a hangover, were such that they decided to let me stay on to the end. I spent a year living and working in Rehoboth Beach with my boyfriend, Greg. It was a crash pad for all the kids who needed a place to go. It did start to bother me that they kind of treated my place like a cafeteria, and I was the one doing all the work and pay. Then I started to freak out and create problems for myself. I had decided to start reading the Bible again. 

I soon told Greg we shouldn't have sex anymore because it was wrong. So the girl that I had taken in, the one who needed a place to stay, who I told she didn't need to pay me any rent until she had a job, you know, That-Girl? She heard me tell him that. So, after having gone through the routine with all of my other male friends, and learning how to dress and talk and dance like me, she had to fuck my boyfriend. A couple of times at least. And then, because he treated her badly, she told me about it. Said she felt guilty. Yeah, it didn't have anything to do with the fact that he treated her as if he hated her. So, while they were both out of the house, I went into the bedroom I had given her, took all her stuff and threw it into the bedroom I had shared with him. I put all my things in the now-empty room, and put a lock on the door. That-Girl left right away, but I lived there with Greg on his own in the next room like that for a couple of weeks before I found a new place for myself. One night, he just sat outside that door, crying and saying that we belonged together. I didn't even think about what part I might have played in what happened. I just decided I couldn't trust anyone, just like mom always taught me. The opportunity arose, and I promptly moved out of Delaware and settled on 1st Ave and 10th Street in New York City. It was time to start over.  

 DANIEL and the SQUAT on AVENUE D 

 In what I now recognize as a lesson of the extreme conflict between religion and ultimate truth, I came back into the Jehovah’s Witness religion at the age of 18. I'd spent some years in typical rebellious behavior and feelings of shame that accompany rejection of the strict religious teachings with which I was indoctrinated as a child. I felt that I could not live up to the expectations of Jehovah God, and that I was therefore unworthy of life itself. I always had in the back of my mind that everything I had learned was the truth, and that I was simply a bad person for feeling incapable of living up to the demands of the God I believed in. I may have always had, in the back of my mind, some plan to return to the 'flock' if it were possible, but events that took place that year that I moved to New York led me to make that effort with the greatest dedication. It was in the fall of 1988. I was living on First Avenue and 10th Street with a couple of roommates. I had met some of the squatters from Thompkins Square Park area, and I was curious to see more of their culture. I had been in the punk scene and lived on my own for a few years in Delaware, but it was something quite different to see it being done here in the East Village in the abandoned buildings. 

One night when I was locked out of my apartment, I decided to make an attempt to meet up with the squatters in the park and see if I could manage to talk my way into staying in one of their places for the night to check it out. In those days, I would do anything for an interesting adventure. I walked to Thompkins Square and sat down on a bench to wait and see if anyone showed up. It was getting pretty cold, and I was only wearing a cardigan sweater with nothing underneath, a little black mini skirt, and a pair of combat boots. I huddled up to warm myself and thought about trying to get into my apartment again. Maybe my roommates would be there now, and let me in. Just then, I heard someone speaking to me. I looked up to see a man with very long hair. He was on a bicycle that had a smiley face sticker on the front of it. He was handing out flyers for the annual Smoke-In at Washington Square Park. I was curious. He seemed very nice, with a face like the gentle kind of person who wouldn’t hurt a fly. He had a cause, so I thought that was cool. 

I wasn’t really into marijuana, it never did much for me, but I always had some respect for people that had a cause that seemed supported by good intentions. He said that the Smoke-In was a protest to ban hard drugs, but legalize marijuana. He asked me if I ever used hard drugs. I lied because I figured I wanted to keep the conversation going. No, I’ve never used hard drugs, I said. He asked me if I would walk with him and help him distribute the flyers. I thought it would be interesting, so I said sure. I thought this was not the adventure I was looking for, but I was sure it would be an interesting experience somehow. So we walked and talked, and he seemed very intelligent and interesting. I remember spending a lot of time discussing humanity in some analytical way. Meanwhile, I explained to him that I had locked myself out of my apartment. He suggested that he would walk with me to my building so that I could make another attempt to get in. When we went to the front of my building, I rang the doorbell, hoping one of my roommates would be there. I stood far back on the sidewalk to make sure they could see me if they looked out the window. No response. Interestingly, I found out later that my roommate was home, and that she was unable to see me when she looked out the window, so she did not buzz me in. This man then informed me that he had two squats, and that I was welcome to use one of them to sleep in that night, and that he wouldn’t ‘try to mess around with me or anything.’ I was thrilled. I thought to myself, this is almost exactly the adventure I was looking for. I get to stay in the squats on Avenue D tonight. So I said that was cool, and I walked with him over to the other side of the park. 

 We eventually made our way into a shop to buy a Sabbath candle. He explained that we needed the candle to see our way into the building. As we approached the building, we walked around to the side and entered through a hole that had been broken through the foundation. the building had been boarded up some time ago, and this was the only access to the inside. Once inside, the only way to go up to the apartments was to climb the upright fire escape ladders that had been put in by the squatters on the sides of what used to be a stairwell, but that had been removed when the building was condemned. He went up ahead of me, holding the candle. One ladder and another, up a few more floors, then he stepped off into a doorway. I followed. As we entered the space, he turned around and wrapped a very large chain around the door handle, around and around, and locked a big lock. 

 I panicked inside. I glanced around at the slim line of light that came in over the boards on the windows. I could make out that this was a fairly empty apartment that had probably been a housing project building. One of the rooms seemed to have a very high pile of furniture. I could make out the outline of upside-down chairs and other things at the top edge of the pile, near the line of light that came over the window boards in that room. I thought to myself, he has me trapped. I will not behave as if I am afraid, because he will become offended and that will be worse for me. He started speaking as if my staying there with him had been the plan all along. I did not behave as if I was surprised or uncomfortable, just tried to play it cool. His name was Daniel. He started telling me about his not being permitted to return to the state of Texas because people there had a problem with him. He kept repeating that people there hated him because of his religion. I didn’ t really want to know, and I didn’t think it was really a big deal since I had grown up in a religion that made people hate you anyway. But he seemed as if he wasn’t going to let up until I asked him, so ‘What is your religion.’ I’m a Satanist.

 He said it just like that, and I saw three wheels start spinning in my head. He started telling me about having made animal sacrifices to Satan. As he was speaking, I connected with those wheels in my head. One wheel was praying, praying for he first time since I was 14 and I felt I had abandoned God. ‘Jehovah, please let me live. Please help me to get through this experience alive, and I will do anything you ask of me. I will give my life to you. Just please get me out of here, and I will know that you are truly there.’ Another track in my brain was leading my conversation with this man. ‘Find a common ground. Behave as if you are not in fear, and act as if you accept him and his views without hesitation.’ So I spoke to him with understanding. ‘Oh, I had a friend who was interested in that religion. I read part of a book he had about it. It made some very good points about the hypocrisy of Christendom...’ The third wheel in my mind was determining how I might seek exit. I had to urinate. I asked him where I could go. He had mentioned that there was not a functional toilet. He instructed me to use the cat litter box in the corner. That’s when I knew he was not going to open that door for me. I used the litter box. 

He told me that I could sleep on his mattress for the night, and he would sleep on the floor. I insisted that he should not let me take his bed. ‘OK, then we will both sleep on the mattress,’ he said. I was not going to say no. I was still praying all the time. He started to touch me. I didn’t know what to say. Then it came to me. Speak to him in his language. “You know, man, you offerred me a place to sleep, and I reeeaally appreciate it. and when you said you weren’t going to try to mess around with me or anything, I thought that was reeeeeally cool of you. So I would reeeeally appreciate it if we could just get some sleep.” I’m sorry, you’re just soooo beautiful. I slowly pushed his hand away. I woke up the next morning with him still sleeping there beside me. I immediately began to pray. 

In my mind, I saw myself in the very front of the building, where there were people on the street all around, and he couldn’t do anything to hurt me without being seen. I prayed that Jehovah would somehow just get me out of the building to that very spot I saw in my mind’s eye, and I would be safe. Daniel awoke. He was very distracted, and began speaking of how he was going to have me go with him to march in the protest. He spoke of how he would make me his ‘woman’ and I would bear his offspring and raise them in this militant nazi youth party, and that he was going to be the new leader of the church of the 966. I just watched and listened and prayed. He rambled on and on. Eventually, he walked towards the door. He unravelled the chain. We stepped out and went down the fire escape ladders. One by one, each step was bringing me closer to my goal. We walked through the hole in the foundation, into the daylight. As we rounded the corner to the front of the building, and stepped into the very spot I had pictured in my mind, he snapped out of his fog. He stopped rambling. He turned to me with an expression of anger on his face and, in a voice full of venom, said, “I can’t beleive I didn’t FUCKING RAPE YOU. I could have fucking raped you!” 

 You would think I would've made sure the story ended there, but you'd be wrong. I was both fearful and fascinated, and it kept me from managing to make a break for it. We kept walking. Every time I said I needed to get back home, he insisted on joining me, and I would rethink that plan. I actually allowed him to escort me home, but only to prepare myself to leave with him again. While we were in my apartment, he asked me to take a look at something. He held up a piece of white cardboard, on which he had hand-written his own "business" cards. There were 9 cards drawn on the sheet, and each one had a big "966" drawn in the middle in black ink, with "Daniel Rakowitz" at the top, and "Seriously the Most Serious about Seriousness" at the bottom. Now, of course, my first thought was something like 'how strange, pathetic, juvenile..'. He told me to look at the center of the center card, and that four specific images would emerge. He had seen them come out of the ink, and shown the same to others. He claimed that he had many supporters who believed in his power. I looked at the center of the center, and I saw nothing. "Look again," he said. It was a strange voice that came from him, and seemed to go right into my head. Then I saw it. Four images emerged, just as he described, in each of the four directions. I was startled and shook it out of my head. 

Not knowing what else to do, and even wanting to keep the story going, I ended up joining Daniel in the Annual Smoke-In at Washington Square Park. We walked over there, and marched around the park with the other protestors. I kept thinking to myself, how do I get away from him safely? I don't want to make him angry. And still, he continues to insist on joining me if I suggest leaving. Then I remembered. I remembered how it helped to speak to him in his language, from his perspective. "Listen, man, it's reeeeeally important for you to be here right now, so you reeeeeally have to stay. It's so important, what you are doing. But I reeeally have to go now." He looked at me with understanding, whispered "you're right" as if we were discussing national security, and permitted me to wander off on my way back home, alone. 

 He came looking for me. One day, he came by and asked me to join him at Thompkins Square Park, where there is food distributed for the homeless, and have a meal. The strange thing is, I was always curious about the lines of people at the park receiving food. Many of them were squatters, but not all. I wanted to see it up close, and, for reasons I cannot explain, also some strange unshakeable fascination with this person and this story. So I went. When the punk squatters saw me there with Daniel, some of them warned me about him and told me I needed to stay away from him. When he continued to show up at my apartment door every day, I would ignore the buzzer and hope that he didn't have the ability to see through walls. I would sit on the floor and wonder what to do to get rid of this man and stop him from returning every day. I heard from the punk squatters in the park that he was spreading the word that he was going to "destroy" me if I didn't do as he wished, and that he intended to "destroy" my roommate for being part of the gentrification of the Lower East Side. 

 One day while he was once again buzzing at the door, it came to me that I had to do something. I was not going to keep living in fear of this man. I put on my combat boots and walked into the hall and started down the three flights of stairs. Feeling secure in the safety of my steel-toe boots, kick-ready if necessary, I was unaffected when I saw that he had entered the building and was about to approach the first flight of stairs. I knew I had chosen to come down the stairs that day for a reason. It would have been a tough negotiation to get him down from the third floor once he got to my apartment door. I put my arm out, right hand on his chest, moving him backwards out the entryway door. "I'm sorry, you're not welcome here. I don't want anything to do with you or your religion." At this, I laughed inside of myself at how I must be making him feel like a Jehovah's Witness by my saying that. His response, "But, but, I brought some chicken and some beans, and I just wanted to cook some dinner," in that harmless little voice that I had heard from him before. "I heard," I replied, "that you want to destroy me and that you want to destroy my roommate, and I don't appreciate it. Please leave." I shut the door. I returned upstairs, and there was no further disturbance that evening. But, I knew this was not the last time I would see Daniel Rakowitz. 

 I didn't have the greatest schedule or the safest commute in the city at that time. The 14th Street and 1st Ave L train station was rather desolate at 6:30AM, and Times Square at 7 wasn't any better, really. It never occurred to me to be concerned, however, until one day when I took the usual path of entry into the station, and stopped short at the sight of Daniel Rakowitz laying on the wooden bench seats in a slumber. I was sure he was waiting for me. I stood at the top of the stairs, thought about the scene, and decided to stay in that spot until I saw the train pulling into the tunnel. Then I would quickly walk down past him into the first car and escape unnoticed. As I had this thought, I looked up to see the lights of the train pulling in almost as if by my thoughts. I stepped lightly down the steps and across the platform, through the doors on the first car, and turned to check out the window. Just then, the doors closed with the usual BING! of a subway sound, and I couldn't believe what I saw. Daniel Rakowitz, snapped out of sleep by the sound, sat bolt upright and stared straight through the window of my train car and straight through me. It was like a cheap horror film. Then the train pulled out of the station and I was on my sort of merry way to work. 

 I had begun to study again with the Jehovah's Witnesses. Because I had made that promise to Jehovah that I would do anything he asked of me, and I thought they were the ones through whom his guidance was provided. I had been taught that from the time I was born. As a result, I was now attending meetings at the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses on 5th Street and Avenue C. It was right around the corner from where I had been in that squat. I supposed I might see him one day in that area, but it still stopped me in my tracks when it happened. I was walking down Avenue C on my way to a meeting, and there he was across the street. I stopped dead in my tracks, first instinct telling me to turn around and make a fast track home. No, I thought, if I can just get into the Kingdom Hall, I will be safe. I looked at him, and something strange happened. He began to stare up into the sky in exactly the opposite direction of where I was standing. Not only that, but as I moved forward down the sidewalk, he continued to turn and stare at the sky in exactly the opposite direction of me no matter where I stood. By the time I reached the Southwest corner, he was staring into the sky in a Northeast direction. He never saw me as I made my way to the hall and stepped inside. 

 It was the fall of 1989. I was still working at the hotel in Times Square. I would often look over the shoulder of Jesse Touron as he read his New York Post at a desk behind me, and this was one of those mornings. I saw in big, bold letters, covering one whole side of the post front page, "CHARLES MANSON HAS NOTHING ON ME". That sounds like that idiot, Daniel Rako...Oh my god, it was him. The entire right side of the front page of the Post was the image of Daniel Rakowitz. I asked Jesse to let me take a look. Murder. Led police to dismembered body of victim in buckets in the Port of Authority Bus Terminal. rumors that he fed parts of her to the homeless people in Thompkins Square Park in a soup. It was the man who had wanted to kill ME. The blood left my head and I walked away in a daze. 

 More strange was that evening. I had to stay in the hotel that night, fire safety director on call. When I went into my room, and switched on the TV, there he was walking towards me on the screen. Newscaster voice in the background. Click! I shut it off before she completed a sentence. Daniel Rakowitz was charged with murder. He pleaded insanity, and was placed in an institution 'until he could be considered safe to himself and to society'. He got a spot on the Geraldo Show with Charles Manson. Must've been his life long dream. So this is how I explain getting tied up with the Witnesses for the next 7 years. 

I was sure that I owed Jehovah for saving my life. I later realized that Jehovah and the Witnesses are two different things, but that is another story for another time. I just call this story one big lesson about manifestation and power of thought. 

 JUST ONE OF THOSE THINGS I have heard that Billie Holiday tune. The lyrics, "You don't know how hearts burn for love that cannot live yet never dies." I had one of those. One of those things where you set yourself up to suffer want. I don't know when it happened. That spark that shot down from the stars and hit me in the heart. I only remember that, once it happened, I was inescapably fixated on the fire. It was a battle between me and myself like nothing I ever fought before or after. His glance, his voice, his kisses. They were the thing that almost took me off my track. Or did derail me. On a restrictive diet, one's every thought turns towards food. Especially the really delicious desserts. So it goes when you join a bad religion. Having made the decision to do this thing right, I was determined to eliminate from my life all the unacceptable vices. No more drugs, no smoking, no sex. Two of those sinful temptations were easily shed, the last not so simply. It didn’t help at all that there was John. 

Smooth, smart, and devilishly debonair, John Hood was surely capable of talking the paint off a prewar Plymouth or the panties off a prude. And I was playing the part of the prude trying to hold on to her panties. Problem is, the look in my eyes and the sound of my voice, and yes, the carnivorous kisses he elicited, were betraying my secret self. I wanted that boy like a kid wants candy. I set the whole thing up from the start. I was the Front Desk Supervisor at a fashionworld-friendly funky hotel on 46th Street. I'd been working there since I moved to the Big Apple. John was the Director of Security with whom I had become smitten. It was one of those nights that we would both be staying over in the hotel, I was on fire safety duty and he was doing double-shifts. "Oh, it seems we are short on spare rooms, looks like we have to share," I either delightedly reported or deliberately deceived. Hard to recall the specifics of my manipulation of that situation. My later, "Well, you can have that bed and I'll take this one," with the hope that he would find it impossible not to make a move. 

"Don't you get tired of always sleeping alone?" was the question he posed. My response to that question providing some encouragement, he asked if we could share a bed. "OK," I said without revealing too much anticipation. He tossed himself happily down at my side, and surely knew he would get an affirmative to the request for a goodnight kiss. "I knew you would kiss like that," he said with a smile. We did some mad making out that night. I was still thinking of my plans for a path of purity when I kept it from going any further than that. We slept in a rather affectionate embrace. 

The first note he slipped across the cashier's counter said "Love that Drumbeat Red." He'd sought out my lipstick label in the locker room. The clever in it made me want to give him another kiss. So, when he passed the scribbled "Meet me on the 17th floor," how could I do other than take the next opportunity to dash for an elevator up. "Hey Cliff, can you watch the cashier's desk..." Here's the thing. I wasn't quite figuring on the fact that HE might turn out to dig ME. I thought I'd get some kisses out of it, and maybe a little more, and then he would move on. No harm done. I mean, how would a guy like him get hooked on a country-bumpkin Bible thumpin gal like me? 

I guess I did maintain a sense of style, sporting some quality vintage dresses, classic red lipstick, and even some barely hidden lacey lingerie, that may have played into the draw. And we did look kind of well-suited for one another standing side by side sometimes. But, while I was reading about an interpretation of the biblical book of Revelations, he was doing the door at the latest underground hot-spot for the happening. It was a strange and inexplicable predicament in which we found ourselves. It was many months that we spent stealing about, kissing in dark corners all over that hotel-in-process-of-renovation. We were stuck in a bitter-sweet sunset of nearly-lovers soon to separate. 

The day he showed up at my apartment with a tape recording of a song he had written for me, and even the gift of a cassette deck to play it on, I wanted him to stay there forever, so, of course, I promptly asked him to leave. He was angry and hurt. It hurt me more, but I thought it was what I must do. As he walked out that door, I kicked the wall so hard it made a huge hole. As he walked away, it was too painful for me to watch. And I couldn't even look at that hole in the wall long enough to patch it, remembering that moment made me cry. So I put a piece of furniture in front of the evidence and left it like that for a very long time. While I told myself I had an obligation, I had made a promise to god that day in the squat on Ave D, the truth is no one had given me feelings that frightening in all my life, and I suppose running further into religion was my way of seeking protection. Every time I thought of him it hurt. It was as if I had intentionally ripped my own heart out and thrown it on the floor and stomped on it just to prevent him from doing it for me.

MARRIED TO A MADMAN ****names have been changed*** I was living on 19th Street between 2nd and 3rd, in a beautiful prewar studio apartment. Hardwood floors, high ceilings, lots of light, and acoustics that made good music sound great. I had never lived in a place more beautiful and uplifting. The view from the large, south-facing windows, was a city block lined with trees and a gorgeous townhouse with roof-garden over which the sun shone brightly and filled the space. It was 1991, and I was 22. I was still struggling with my dedication to the religious path, studying every week with an older woman in the congregation so that I might get further with my faith. That is when I met James. He was 32, and an artist from Massachusetts. He was visiting a mutual friend of ours who lived at the Watchtower facilities in Brooklyn. We had some great conversation, and I found him very interesting because I was always drawn to creative people. He spoke about his poetry and his paintings. He also had a broad knowledge of alternative music, which was not something that was typical among the Witnesses that I knew. When we ran into one another again several months later, at the art gallery of another mutual friend in the Hamptons, we both seemed to see it as fate placing us together for a purpose. 

We began dating long distance. It wasn't long before I was dealt a hand that would affect my life for quite some time. It was the Friday before Christmas, and I was walking down a rush-hour crowded 14th Street, on my way to the bank to deposit my paycheck. Before I knew what had happened, I was reeling from the impact of a hard hit to the back of my head. I had blacked out momentarily, but was still standing, slightly slumped, when I came to. I looked up to see two young men on a bicycle whipping through the crowd, on their way towards Avenue A. I didn't realize how much damage had been done. I slowly walked to the bank, rather stunned. People stared at me as if I looked quite strange. I made my deposit with some difficulty, and walked out of the bank and towards my apartment. I noticed that I felt more and more unstable as I progressed up 1st Avenue. By the time I was inside my apartment, I could barely stand. It felt as if I were drunk, fighting hard not to flop down on the floor. The nausea was almost unbearable. Not knowing much about these kinds of injuries, I wasn't sure who to call. My back was also in a great deal of pain, so I decided to call my osteopath. When he saw me, he did not believe that I had a concussion or any serious damage, and sent me home without much concern. While I believed him an expert on such matters, I couldn't ignore the fact that it was quite difficult for me to function. 

After a few days of calling out sick from work, and managing only to eat cereal with soymilk in such a state of nausea, I decided it would be best to stay with James in Massachusetts for a few days. It seemed like it was a bad idea for me to be alone in this condition. He came to pick me up, and we headed North. It was a very strange time for this to happen, but while I was laid out in James's car, still struggling with what had happened, he asked me to marry him. And I said yes. I can't imagine why or how such an exchange took place at such a time, but it did. And I never questioned it. After staying with James for a couple of days, and not feeling much improved, I finally did call a doctor in the city who sent me to see a neurologist. The neurologist was very disturbed that I hadn't seen someone right away, and informed me that the blow to my head was so severe that it would likely have killed me if I had been an elderly person. She informed me that there were a string of muggings happening in that area in just such a manner. Those boys had been intending to take my clutch purse. Because I wore an antique hat and vintage coat, they may have assumed that I was an older woman when they saw me from behind, and that I would have made an easy target. She gave me a prescription for motion-sickness pills, because I found that moving my head even slightly, such as from a computer screen to a paper on my desk, caused great waves of dizziness and nausea. The manager in my office was not pleased with any of the effects of the incident, and did not seem to accept the severity of the damage I had endured. He was quite angry for the work days I had missed, and he rolled his eyes when I spoke of my struggle to manage even the simplest tasks. As time went on, my balance did gradually return, but never to the extent that I was completely recovered. I was left with some permanent effects from the incident. It also seemed to leave me in a kind of fog that could not fully lift. Another result of the injury was that I started having symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I had flashbacks of past abuses that I had not previously recalled. I would revert to feeling as if I were a four-year-old child, and I would hear heavy breathing, or become overcome with fear, or mentally reenact having been sexually abused. I was still in that condition when I married James and moved to Massachusetts. He had his reasons for asking me to marry him in such a state. 

He wanted to prove to his family that he could have me as a wife, and he also thought that he could make up for some of his past mistakes by helping me through this troubled time. I learned that he himself had sexually abused other young children when he was a teenager, and was trying to find a way to remove the guilt. But, before very long, the abuser in him came out at me. Within a couple of weeks, he was criticizing me verbally. It was mostly my physical appearance, which had been what he most prized about me when we met. Now I was flawed in every way. My breasts were too small, my ankles were too big, my feet were too big. Then he was angry with me for almost every little thing I did. After three months, he got physically violent with me for the first time. He was quite strong, and it was difficult for me to get away from him. He trapped me in our apartment. When I tried to use a knife to scare him into letting me out, he laughed at the attempt. Eventually, I did escape and drive to the home of a friend. 

Over the next couple of years, I attempted to figure out what I had to do to about our situation. I took marriage vows seriously, and according to the religious teachings under which I had obligated myself, I was to make every effort to make the marriage work. It took about two years of separating and then attempting reconciliation before I accepted that this would never work. He became violent with me on more than one occasion during the separation. Once, he punched me in the side of the head while he was driving the car and I was in the passenger seat. Another time, when I agreed to have a meeting with him in his then apartment on Beacon Hill, he began to speak to me with a rage in his voice that grew larger and louder, and, as I attempted to leave, he trapped me inside. He played a game where he would move away from the door just long enough to watch me attempt an exit, then he would come back and block me again. Finally, he struck me in the head so hard that I hit the wall and fell to the floor. As I attempted to dial 911, he took the phone from me. The only way I was able to get out of that place was to accept his insisted offer of driving me, in my car, back to where I was living. I shortly thereafter obtained a restraining order, and I lived with friends for some time. By 1996, after a final attempt at reconciliation with him, I threw all of my clothes in plastic trash bags and headed back to New York City, knowing that divorce was the only way. At the time, because I was a Jehovah's Witness, that would mean I could not marry or have a relationship with any other man. As a Witness, the only grounds for a legitimate divorce that is recognized by the congregation is a divorce on grounds of adultery. I was prepared to live like a nun if necessary. 

MY SCARLET LETTER 

As soon as I got back to New York City, I was once again working in the accounting offices at the hotel in Times Square. Still in a daze, but able to manage somehow, I was no longer a Supervisor, but just working administratively at whatever job they wanted to give me. I was mostly making collection calls, since that had been a big part of my previous role there. James did not want a divorce. He tried to persuade me to come back, and said it was in my best interest spiritually. I knew that wasn't the case, and I couldn't figure out what to do to get him out of my life. He didn't want to grant me a divorce.

 While I had intended to stay on the path of straight, there were some pleasant temptations presenting themselves. A certain dread-locked doorman at the hotel was going out of his way to express his interest every day as I entered the building. And it didn't take long before I started to strategize that this might be my only exit. The only grounds for divorce for a Jehovah's Witness are when your spouse does the adulterous deed. Although that righteous voice in my head was telling me I absolutely should not, I agreed to meet this flirt for a drink downtown. One thing led to another, and we were in a cab on our way back to his apartment in Brooklyn. Having been near celibate for several years, including those of my miserable marriage, this night was an experience of unprecedented pleasure. Unfortunately, I was still torn between what I believed to be the right thing and what I found myself doing for the sake of survival and sinful pleasure. I reported my bad behavior to the congregation elders, and to my legal husband. I felt guilty for what I had done, but also hopeful that James would finally grant me a divorce. I was reproved by the elders, and lost privileges of participating in some of the activities of the congregation. When I went to Massachusetts to talk with James, he dumped cold water over my head, and threw a dirty towel at me for me to dry off with, saying "this is all you deserve." 

Part of me believed him. I did believe that I had deeply sinned. I found myself unable to end the relationship with my lover. It was so amazing and enjoyable when we were together. I spoke with the elders regularly, each time being reproved by them, scriptures being read, and being told that I must end all ties with this man. I was told that I would have to study a great deal, and avoid listening to any kind of romantic songs or other things that might make me want to see this guy. They explained that he could not possibly love me because he did not know Jehovah and therefore could not know real love. They wanted me to see that I was being used. I broke off with my lover many times, only to find myself missing him painfully and calling him and meeting him again. Each time we met, we both believed it would be the last time, and we made love like it was the last day of our lives. Over a number of months, I had failed to successfully end the relationship, having had many meetings with the elders and finally admitting that they would have to disfellowship me. I explained that I was finding I could not live up to the standards of the congregation, and I did not want to be a hypocrite and call myself something that I was not, a Jehovah's Witness. I hoped that I would eventually find a way to do the right thing and make my way back. 

It was arranged that I would have a committee meeting with a group of elders from the congregation so that they could determine if disfellowshipping was in order. When I stood at that long table of congregation overseers in the conference room and said, "I just don't understand how you can expect people to live without sex!," my fate was farely sealed. It was established that I would have a final meeting with two elders in which I would hear what had been determined that day. At that meeting, I was informed that I was no longer a member of the worldwide "Christian" congregation. I would no longer be able to communicate in any way with anyone who was a member of the worldwide congregation with the exception of limited contact with any family members I might have who were Witnesses. It was explained to me that the elders could have a very limited contact with me in the interest of perhaps brining me back at some point, and that they could now only deal with me with "the most basic human concern." I asked the elder who was speaking, the elder who once said he saw me as almost a daughter, the elder who had performed my wedding ceremony, what he meant by "the most basic human concern." He looked at me with a kind of hatred that comes with religious fundamentalism, and said, "If you were lying bleeding on the sidewalk, we would not step over you." I still saw myself as the sinner. 

Over time, the back and forth routine had grown old for my lover, and he finally made the break and refused to continue those reunions. I attended congregation meetings where no one was permitted to acknowledge my presence. I sat there and listened and sometimes cried about my confusing circumstances. I looked at the people who once were my friends, now unable to say hello. Some of them looked at me as if they were seeing Satan himself. I kept reading scriptures every day, and praying all time, wondering why it wouldn't work. And why did it just make me miss the man more? Finally, in the silence, something snapped. I started to see it all so clearly. They had set me up. Not that they knew it, but they had set me up. I saw that by my believing that a man couldn't care about me, I behaved in a way that made him validate that thought. I pushed him away, and then considered his actions a validation of my belief, or what I had been led to believe. Then I realized that they were doing it with everything. They taught everyone in the group to fear people on the outside in general. That fear led to certain behaviors, and those behaviors brought on the expected results. Distrust generates the expected response. It was like walls came crashing down in my head. I saw the power of our thoughts and how they create our lives. I had been raised from birth with these teachings that instill fear and distrust, and they always proved true because that is how we work in the world, I realized that a different expectation would create a different result. 

On The Power of Thought 

One night, I decided to test my new understanding of the relationship between our thoughts and our experiences. I was working nights at a restaurant on 19th street by Union Square in Manhattan. On my way into work one night with my bicycle, I saw a group of men, the sort that some would describe as "derelicts," gathered across the street. I knew that most folks would assume that these men would steal from them if given the opportunity. I decided to KNOW that these men would not steal from me. I decided to let them SEE that I trusted them completely. I made certain they knew I was there, and that I was aware of their presence. Then, I laid my bike down on the sidewalk. I walked slowly into the front door of the restaurant, and leisurely walked all the way through to the back of the restaurant and around the other side. I came out through the door through which I needed to bring my bike. I walked over to my bike, intending to pick it up and carry it inside. One of those men from the group across the street came RUNNING across the street and picked up my bike for me. He carried it into the room where I was headed, walked, bike in arms, all around the room, asking where I wanted him to put it down.