I'm Sick of Nearly Joining Cults
Leave me alone, I just want to do Pilates in goddamned peace
Greta had a thick German accent but looked like someone named Becky from the Gold Coast. She had porcelain teeth, spider-leg eyelashes, and artificially tanned skin. She informed me I had to buy branded pilates socks even though I had been going to pilates for months and had never needed them. As the class started, I questioned the fitness culture I was taking part in.
I’ve been doing Pilates on and off for six months. I explored a new form of movement because I loathe the gym. No, I don’t thrive on the endorphins. It offers no stress relief. I hate it. Being a gay man, I feel obliged to attend a gym. Once, after sleeping with someone, I asked him which gym he went to (so I could avoid him) without inquiring if he went to the gym. It is almost expected that we attend a gym or, at a minimum, have a membership.
Greta showed me the reformer/rowing machine and started dropping little phrases about strength over and over, explaining that these were phrases that only they used. She was planting seeds. If we have certain strings on the machine, we feel ‘strong’. If we put an extra spring or weight on, we feel ‘extra strong’. This creates the question of whether we are strong enough. Doubt encourages us to push ourselves outside our limits, which I did in the second class.
Her comparisons to other classes intensified the more she spoke. After establishing their identity as a workout class, they explain how that identity supersedes all others. Greta was opening an “us versus them” dynamic. She wanted me on her side.
As soon as she left me to get my strong weights, I lamented. Fuck, I’m in another cult. All I wanted was to turn up slightly hungover and have someone tell me how I can stretch my legs. I wanted to feel productive. While I was panting and pulling on the rowing bar (a fucking rowing machine?), I wondered if this class ticked all of Amanda Montell’s cultish behaviours in her book Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism.
In an interview with Nine to Noon, Montell said that a cultish language works on the “Three C’s.”
“It converts you, it conditions you and it coerces you.”
I don’t think anyone designed these tactics to create a cult, but they are necessary to stand out in an over-saturated market. When I first moved to Melbourne, I lived near a main road. There was one 24-hour gym, one class-based gym, and one Crossfit gym. When I drove down the same street last night, I counted five class-based gyms, one 24-hour gym, and the Crossfit gym. That means that a small pocket of Melbourne is paying, at a minimum, $50 a week to sustain five class-based gyms.
The first allure of these places is what they are selling: the ideal body. Most people will pay through the nose for it. The most attractive thing about class-based gyms is that they take the thinking out of the equation. When I go to the gym, I have to think about what day I am there, if I am doing legs, what exercises I should do, and what equipment is free. When I went to Greta’s gym, I rocked up, took my Birkenstocks off, and sat down on the medieval torture device that she called a rowformer. I am happy to relinquish my time to the experts for them to make me skinny. There was no coercion to get me in the door. I wanted the product they were selling, and the conditioning had been done long before I stepped in the door.
“The amateur doesn’t appreciate the need for experimentation. He wants his experts to know.” ― B.F. Skinner, Walden Two
When I was walking out of the class, I wondered if everyone is susceptible to this kind of cultish behaviour. While I can recognise the symptoms of cultish pressure, I still find myself easy to coerce when it comes to body image. Other times, I fully drink the Kool-Aid.
When I was younger, I bled. It got so bad that I couldn’t wear white t-shirts (which was fine because I was an emo). Often, Mum would wake up and find blood all over the walls. My skin was so inflamed with cystic acne that when I was sleeping, I would roll over and take a layer of skin off in the process.
The last time I took my shirt off in public was on Swimming Day. The houses each had a spot, and Kauri’s was in the back right corner with very little shade. Even though I was probably the skinniest I have ever been and will ever be, I worried about both my skin and my weight. This was something that I loved, so I wanted to keep going - but of late, my back and chest had become so inflamed that I found it hard to move.
At this point, there was nothing I wouldn’t try. I was desperate for my acne to stop, so I started buying into whatever anyone told me. I bought facewashes that bleached Mum’s towels and potions to rub on my skin, which made it worse. I tried eating fewer fatty foods. It was the first time I had fallen prey to marketing like that; I needed to try Proactiv because I needed this problem to be solved.
Having that acne and being desperate for an answer or quick fix has conditioned me for susceptibility. Similarly to the exercise classes, I was seeking an expert to take away the thought from the process. Even if I had to invest time and energy, I was willing to offer those things to change my appearance and quality of life.
That is what Greta is selling, not admission to the class. She is peddling the idealised ‘strong’ version of you.
While I was working, though, I couldn’t help but notice the little negging from Greta. She would say ‘good job’ and then make fun of someone for not getting their weights fast enough. To act at a variable ratio, you keep your partner guessing. It’s like dropping coins into a pokies machine. If you threw $20 in and knew you’d get $10 back every time, you’d stop going. But if you slide that $20 in one time and get nothing and then come back and do the same thing and get five and then five again—you’re hooked. It was the same with Greta. I was pushing myself harder because when she walked past, I wanted her to tell me I was doing a good job. The instructor needed to condition their praise as a reinforce,r and it was working.
After leaving the second class, I got a call from the owner. She used jargon on the phone and wanted to pressure me to stay longer (I declined). Although this pressure was also very cultish, it’s a common practice in all exercise classes. I need to start giving out our fake numbers.
The only real saving grace in all of this is that I’m a bit of a tight arse. No amount of conditioning could make me want to give up $50 (MINIMUM) a week to do something that I don’t want. Yes, I want results, but I am sure that I will be able to get them at my $14-a-week gym, thank you very much. I do wonder how long this will last, though. As I start to age and my metabolism slows down (and I make more money), I can feel my resolve to resist these cults waning.
this was such a good read!