A Journey from Cults to Cancel Culture
What’s a racist, homophobe, sexist, bigot, or hater?
Apparently, anyone winning an argument with a liberal these days.
This year has been a wild ride. It began with me terrified of Satan, demons, and the Apocalypse, only to be ending it realizing the real danger isn’t hellfire—it’s the dogmas we create here on Earth. I didn’t grow up religious. In fact, I was raised secular, moved to Portland, OR after college, and could give you a TED Talk on progressive ideals. But then the pandemic hit, and somewhere between sourdough starters and doomscrolling, I found myself deep in the throes of fundamentalist Christianity.
That’s right—I started the year in a cult. It took months to deconstruct my faith, peel back the layers of fear-based control, and reimagine spirituality beyond the man-made monotheistic God I was sold. Yet, just as I was catching my breath, I noticed something chilling: the same patterns of zealotry I had fled were alive and well in the secular world.
Wokeness, with its sermons on systemic oppression and sacraments of allyship, has become the new secular religion. It demands unwavering faith, punishes heretics, and offers little room for redemption. And just like the fire-and-brimstone preachers I’d left behind, its most fervent believers seem less interested in dialogue and more intent on moral superiority.
Thought leaders like John McWhorter (Woke Racism), Yasmine Mohammed (Unveiled), and Douglas Murray (The Madness of Crowds) have drawn the same parallels: woke ideology mirrors religious extremism, complete with its own prophets and purges. And as someone who’s lived through both kinds of radicalism, I’m here to tell you—it’s not just unsettling; it’s dangerous.
How woke ideology mirrors religious extremism
In my podcast episode titled Faith Unbound: Navigating the Process of Disentanglement—or rather, Deconversion—I delved into my initial discovery of the Ex-evangelical Christian network. Back in February 2024, it felt like a lifeline, a safe haven for questioning my former religious beliefs. But after 6–7 months of immersion, patterns began to emerge. While the movement has been instrumental for many, I couldn’t ignore the creeping rigidity and tribalism. The hunger for certainty, the need to be on the “right side,” often replaces one dogma with another.
A striking example of this surfaced in Sexvangelicals’ episode How to Do Social Justice This Election Season Without Being a Jackass. They state:
“November’s presidential election offers a stark contrast between two types of government. One is democracy, built on the idea that many people have voices and, ideally, a government that serves a broad population. The other is autocracy, which operates on the belief that only a few have a say. Autocracies, like the 2024 Republican Party, often communicate through tactics such as blame, repression, and fear-mongering. In our latest episode, we discuss common communication strategies used by autocracies and how progressives and pro-democracy voters can avoid responding in ways that reinforce jackassdom.”
My response? “It’s not your enemies, it’s the system.” This narrative reduces a complex political landscape into a simplistic moral battle, with one side as saviors of democracy and the other as agents of autocracy. But this dichotomy misses the bigger picture. Who really shapes policy in America?
A 2014 study by Martin Gilens and Benjamin Page, often dubbed the “Oligarchy Study,” analyzed policy decisions across two decades. It revealed that elites and organized interest groups wield disproportionate influence over government decisions, while the average citizen’s impact is negligible. This stark reality transcends partisan politics and lays bare a systemic issue: power isn’t held by the left or right—it’s concentrated in the hands of those who profit from our division.
By framing every election as a battle for democracy versus tyranny, we’re falling into the trap of distraction. The real question isn’t, “Which side am I on?” but, “Who benefits from keeping me here, fighting, and not looking beyond this binary?”
The claim that the Republican Party represents an autocracy, as made by Sexvangelicals, is not just simplistic—it’s laughably disconnected from reality. To label one political party as authoritarian while ignoring the bipartisan complicity in maintaining an oligarchic system is either naïve or willfully ignorant.
Take the oligarchic nature of U.S. politics. Both major parties have long benefited from the concentration of wealth and power at the top. Consider the case of former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, whose net worth has ballooned through stock trades that suspiciously align with her legislative influence. Or Barack Obama (Barry Soetoro), who went from public servant to multi-millionaire, cashing in on book deals, speaking engagements, and lucrative partnerships with Netflix after leaving office.
Then there’s President Joe Biden. While progressives champion him as a defender of democracy, his record is far from pristine. Most recently, questions surrounding his son Hunter Biden’s international business dealings—spanning over a decade—have drawn scrutiny. Hunter’s alleged tax evasion and unregistered foreign lobbying have raised concerns, yet he continues to receive leniency from the justice system.
This isn’t to excuse Republicans from criticism, but the suggestion that they alone embody authoritarian tendencies is absurd when Democrats have equally reaped the rewards of an oligarchic system. Both parties serve the interests of economic elites and organized lobbyists far more faithfully than they do the average voter.
The bipartisan reality of the oligarchy dismantles the “democracy versus autocracy” narrative. For instance, the same Gilens and Page study cited earlier reveals that the preferences of the bottom 90% of income earners have statistically no impact on policy outcomes. Meanwhile, corporate donors and lobbying groups continue to hold sway over legislation regardless of which party is in power.
By framing Republicans as the sole villains in this story, Sexvangelicals perpetuates the kind of shallow tribalism that fuels division while leaving the real culprits—wealthy elites and corporate interests—untouched. The truth is that our democracy has been compromised for decades, and it will remain so until both sides of the aisle are held accountable for their role in preserving this oligarchic system.
Instead of directing anger at individuals or parties, we should be asking: How do we break free from a system designed to keep us pointing fingers at each other while those in power profit from the chaos?
From Crunchy Hippie to Conservative Christian Pipeline: My Journey Through the Radicalization Maze
Growing up secular, I’d have laughed at the idea that I would someday align with conservative or religious ideologies. Portland, Oregon, was my playground of progressive ideals—a city where conservatism felt like the root of every societal ill. But life has a way of challenging our convictions. Late in the pandemic, isolated and seeking meaning, I fell into an extreme version of Christianity. What I once dismissed as unthinkable became my new normal—until it wasn’t. Earlier this year, I deconstructed those beliefs, peeling back the layers of what led me there. Read/listen all about HERE!
Now, I can see the flaws and virtues of both worlds, which is why I find the frame of mind in deconstruction spaces puzzling. Many accounts misrepresent or overgeneralize conservatives—the very people they once were or grew up with—and cast the same stones they once had thrown at them.
It reminds me of this quote from the book The Righteous Mind:
“I had escaped from my prior partisan mind-set (reject first, ask rhetorical questions later) and began to think about liberal and conservative policies as manifestations of deeply conflicting but equally heartfelt visions of the good society. It felt good to be released from partisan anger. And once I was no longer angry, I was no longer committed to reaching the conclusion that righteous anger demands: we are right, they are wrong.”
Deconstructing past beliefs should be about nuance, growth, and intellectual humility—not trading one form of black-and-white thinking for another. When we fail to empathize with others’ moral frameworks, we miss out on a deeper understanding of the human experience.
Many in the ex-evangelical space now lean far left in their political views, where values like care, fairness, and empathy take center stage. Conservative values like loyalty and authority are dismissed or viewed with suspicion, fostering an “us vs. them” mentality.
This cultural shift into victimhood is explored further in The Coddling of the American Mind by Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt, who identify three “Great Untruths” that help explain these societal trends:
- 1) “What doesn’t kill you makes you weaker,”
- 2) “Always trust your feelings,”
- 3) “Life is a battle between good people and evil people.”
These untruths, they argue, contribute to fragility, discourage critical thinking, and promote a tribal mentality—characteristics that are increasingly evident in both the deconstruction space and parts of the progressive left. The focus on emotional responses over rational thought and the growing divide between “us” and “them” only strengthens these dynamics. For a deeper dive into this.
Woke Ideology as a Secular Faith: A Closer Look
“What we’re seeing isn’t a quest for justice but a demand for unquestioning orthodoxy.”
John McWhorter argues that wokeism functions like a full-fledged religion. It provides a moral framework that mirrors traditional religious beliefs. Instead of concepts like original sin, wokeism offers “privilege,” positioning those with it as morally compromised. In place of rituals like prayer, adherents perform acts like confessing their biases. And, similar to the salvation promised in traditional religions, salvation in wokeism comes through activism and striving for societal change. He warns that its refusal to tolerate dissent turns it into a rigid orthodoxy rather than a genuine quest for justice. For many, including those who’ve deconstructed evangelical faith, this framework hits uncomfortably close to home.
Many of the individuals I met and conversed with who now identify as progressive or left leaning have simply exchanged the evangelical radicalism of their past for their new liberal beliefs. Social justice, in this sense, has become their new End Times—complete with the same apocalyptic fervor. And it’s painfully obvious.
Douglas Murray discusses this analysis further in The Madness of Crowds. He suggests that wokeism often serves as a substitute for religion in today’s secular world. As belief in traditional religions has waned, people have sought meaning elsewhere—and wokeism fills that void. It provides clear rules and a sense of belonging, but in doing so, it also shuts down open debate and nuanced conversation.
The New Authority: From Sky Daddy to State Agencies
A striking similarity between fundamentalist religion and woke ideology is the relentless worship of authority. For those who’ve left behind their “big sky daddy,” that void has been filled by institutions like the CDC, FDA, and government agencies. The pandemic demonstrated how blind faith can easily shift from divine to institutional.
This is where the religion of scientism enters the picture—where reason and science are elevated to the status of ultimate truth. Figures who present themselves as “experts” rely on surface-level expertise and selective data to craft narratives that appear authoritative, yet fail under scrutiny. They become the “fake intellectuals,” as Franklin O’Kanu calls them, feeding the cult of expertise while often lacking real intellectual rigor. In public health, this plays out with the “revolving door” between regulatory agencies and the pharmaceutical industry, which further complicates the narrative of impartiality.
The “revolving door” describes the flow of personnel between agencies like the CDC and the pharmaceutical industry. This cycle blurs the lines between public service and corporate interest, with former regulators influencing policies that benefit the very companies they once oversaw—creating a potential conflict of interest that’s staggering.
In this new system, the scientific establishment becomes the new authority—replacing the monotheistic idea of God with the “god” of reason and data. For those in the deconstruction space, this is a new form of dogma. It stifles curiosity, dismisses dissent, and discourages critical thinking—all in the name of progress. This mirrors the rigid certainty and tribalism found in the religious structures people sought to escape.
Worshipping “science” or blindly trusting clinical trials can be misleading. While clinical trials are seen as vital for medical progress, they are often heavily influenced by the pharmaceutical industry, which funds a vast majority of these trials. This creates a conflict of interest that can skew results and delay critical information about the risks of drugs. Examples like the Vioxx scandal, where a painkiller was marketed despite internal knowledge of its dangers, and the Tamiflu case, where the effectiveness of the drug was overstated, show how corporate interests can shape clinical trial outcomes. Clinical trials, while important, are not always as objective or transparent as they seem.
Empowering Dangerous Systems
Yasmine Mohammed’s Unveiled pushes the conversation even more, explaining how wokeism can actually empower authoritarian regimes. One key point she makes is how Western progressives, in the name of cultural relativism, avoid criticizing radical Islam. This gives a platform to extremist ideologies, which harms vulnerable groups like women and minorities. She argues,
“By shielding oppressive practices from scrutiny, wokeism betrays the very people it claims to protect.”
The binary “oppressor versus oppressed” narrative has become a staple of modern discourse, particularly within the context of the Israel-Palestine conflict. This oversimplified lens reduces complex geopolitical and historical realities to a stark dichotomy, fostering a dangerous environment where nuance is lost. It’s unnerving to see college students waving the flag of Palestine while simultaneously undermining U.S. monuments and values, while spreading fear mongering lies about Project 2025, and comparing Trump to Hitler. These contradictions are not only mind-numbing but also deeply troubling, signaling a shift toward ideological extremism that dismisses the complexities of any issue in favor of emotional, binary thinking.
Antisemitism has spiked globally after the October 7 attacks on Israel, but this tragic reality has also fueled the misuse of the term “antisemitism” to suppress valid critiques of Israeli policies. Labeling critics as antisemitic conflates political criticism with hate, shutting down meaningful dialogue essential to addressing the Israel-Palestine conflict’s complexities.
This approach mirrors patterns within woke ideology, where dissent is often silenced in the name of ideological purity. The weaponization of identity politics and accusations hinders nuanced discussions and reinforces systems of power, obstructing pathways to justice and true understanding.
Vivek Ramaswamy, in Woke, Inc., adds another layer to this by discussing how authoritarian regimes like China’s Communist Party (CCP) take advantage of woke rhetoric. According to Ramaswamy, the CCP amplifies America’s internal divisions—often fueled by wokeism—to weaken the West. By focusing on these cultural rifts, China diverts attention from its own human rights abuses, all while strengthening its geopolitical position. This is part of China’s broader geopolitical strategy, which seeks to deflect attention from its authoritarian practices while exploiting divisions in Western societies.
This pattern can be seen as part of a broader effort to exploit the distractions created by cultural conflicts to enhance its influence in global organizations, trade, and international relations. For example, while Western nations debate internal social issues, China continues its expansive Belt and Road Initiative, which increases its influence across developing nations.
Heretics and the Price of Dissent
Religious movements and extreme ideologies, like wokeism, are often defined by their treatment of dissenters or heretics. Woke spaces, much like traditional religious communities, are quick to condemn those who question or criticize. Whether it’s TERFs (trans-exclusionary radical feminists) or former progressives like Yasmine Mohammed, those who dissent face severe backlash. This exclusionary behavior creates a stifling environment, not dissimilar to how traditional religions treat apostates. As Douglas Murray puts it, “The hatred reserved for heretics is often more intense than that directed at outsiders.”
But this dynamic is about more than just ideological rigidity—it’s also rooted in human psychology. The human brain is naturally drawn to certainty. When we embrace extreme ideologies, we seek control over our environment, which provides us a sense of stability and security. Research in neuroscience shows that when our beliefs are challenged, we experience discomfort, but defending them can trigger a dopamine response, rewarding us with a sense of control. The brain gets a “hit” from maintaining a sense of certainty, even if it’s at the cost of nuance or rational discussion.
In fact, this need for certainty can become addictive. The human brain often craves certainty in the form of binary thinking—where things are either completely right or completely wrong. This type of thinking is satisfying because it shields us from the cognitive dissonance that arises when faced with complexity or ambiguity. In the case of woke ideology, the call for absolute adherence to certain beliefs or behaviors is not just about social justice—it’s a way to satisfy that neurological need for control. When we feel justified in our beliefs and actions, we receive a dopamine “reward,” reinforcing the behavior.
This addiction to certainty can also be seen in extreme partisanship. The more entrenched we become in one side, the more our brain is rewarded for defending it. It’s why many people in the deconstruction space or on the political left engage in “mental gymnastics”—creating justifications and rationalizations that protect their beliefs. This isn’t just about ideology; it’s about keeping that dopamine reward flowing, keeping the illusion of control intact, and avoiding the discomfort of uncertainty.
The problem is this pattern of thinking isn’t conducive to open dialogue or true critical thinking. The “us vs. them” mentality becomes more pronounced, and the space for nuance, disagreement, and personal growth shrinks. Instead of engaging with opposing views, individuals self-censor or double down on their beliefs, further entrenched in the addictive cycle of ideological purity.
Moving Forward: A Balanced Approach
It’s important to note that this critique isn’t meant to dismiss the noble goals of social justice movements. Addressing inequality and harm in the world is crucial. But when these movements demand absolute loyalty and punish dissent, they lose sight of the very ideals they claim to uphold.
What do you guys think? How do you balance the pursuit of justice with the need for free thought?
As I discuss on my podcast, Taste of Truth Tuesdays, this tension is something I’ll be unpacking in more detail on Season 3 and particularly with Yasmine Mohammed. We’ll explore how wokeism intersects with radical Islam, how authoritarian regimes exploit these divisions, and how we can engage with these ideologies in a way that doesn’t undermine the values of justice, free thought, and humanity.
Join the Conversation
Do you see these religious parallels in woke ideology? Are they helpful in understanding these dynamics, or do they oversimplify the issue?
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Comment below, and don’t miss my podcast episode with Yasmine Mohammed dropping 2025 for a deeper dive into these topics!
Taste0ftruth Tuesdays 