CultNEWS101 Articles: 8/22/2019

Skinheads, Gaslighting, Bikram Choudhury, Bikram Yoga, Sexual Abuse, Jehovah's Witnesses

Houston Public Media: A Former Skinhead Explains What Can Lead A Person To Hate

"Christian Picciolini has devoted his life to helping others avoid the path he took.

What leads a person to hate? What path leads someone to a radical point of view — and even violence? And what can someone do to intervene if they fear someone in their life is headed down that path?

Christian Picciolini knows this issue on a deeply personal level. In the 1980s, he joined the Chicago Area SkinHeads (CASH), the first organized neo-Nazi group in the United States.

But, in 1996, Picciolini renounced his ties to the movement and has since devoted his life to public speaking, consulting on radical #extremism, and helping others renounce hate in the same way.

In light of the recent mass shooting in El Paso perpetrated by someone with an extremist point of view, in the audio above, Picciolini talks with Houston Matters producer Joshua Zinn about what leads people to hate, his work helping them, and what resources are available for people concerned someone in their life might be headed that way."

NBC News: Ghosting, gaslighting, orbiting: How putting a name to a bad behavior can help you heal.

"The thing about gaslighting is that it's extremely hard to tell when it's happening to you — which is by design. It's a form of psychological manipulation where a person makes you question your own sanity — and it's something I've experienced firsthand.

Thinking I was losing my mind, I took to Google to try and understand what was happening to me. Coming across the word "gaslighting" and its corresponding definition felt validating. I wasn't crazy after all. I was a victim of a psychological tactic that plenty of other people had experienced — enough for the behavior to have an official name.

I'm not alone in feeling that wave of relief, either. For podcast host Kendall Ann Byrd, 38, based in Annapolis, MD, hearing this term for the first time was a huge turning point in her healing process. "The word that most accurately describes the way I felt when my therapist explained the term 'gaslighting' is relief," she says. "For so long I struggled to make sense of what happened to me. Was it all in my head? Was I the one with the problem? Had I lost my grip on reality? Knowing that my ex's actions were very common and that my instincts were correct helped me heal."

Whether you've been gaslit, ghosted, orbited or (insert the latest damaging trend here), Crystal Rice, LGSW, a therapist practicing in Pennsylvania and Maryland, says having a name for the behavior you're experiencing can be beneficial for understanding what happened to you, and figuring out a way to move past it.

"Naming a behavior takes it out of the ether and puts it in front of you," she says. "It's the equivalent of hearing a sound and fearing a boogieman only to realize it's just a snake in the basement. If we know what it is (and is not), we can begin to develop a plan to address it. We have no idea what to do to kill the boogieman, but a snake? That we can manage," she says."

Huffington Post: Women, Why Are You Still Doing Bikram Yoga?

"While disgraced yoga guru Bikram Choudhury hides out in Mexico amid allegations of rape and harassment, women all over the world are still giving him their money.

In the southwestern Spanish town of Murcia, some 60 yogis spent nine weeks last spring in sweltering heat learning the 26 postures and 2 breathing practices of Bikram yoga, so that they might go home and teach it. The guru himself sat onstage, broadcasting instructions with his microphone headset. Bikram Choudhury, often wearing nothing except a black Speedo and a gold Rolex, is notoriously brutal at his teacher trainings, but his devoted followers embrace and value his methods ― so much so that they all paid between $12,500 and $16,600 to be there. 

This fall, dozens more will pay the same amount for a teacher training in Acapulco, Mexico. Choudhury and his students ― the majority of whom are women ― will spend nine weeks at a Sheraton resort on Mexico's Pacific coast, equipped with an 18-hole golf course, pools, bars, restaurants and "an outstanding wellness area," according to the program description.

Help us tell more of the stories that matter from voices that too often remain unheard.

Acapulco is a convenient place for Choudhury ― he decamped there following several lawsuits, an arrest warrant and allegations of rape and harassment against him. This raises the question of why so many people worldwide continue to give him their money. For many, it appears to still be the highlight of their yoga careers. For others, those nine weeks with Bikram Choudhury were the most horrific experiences of their lives. 

It's bizarre to me that people still go to these trainings.Jessamyn Stanley, yoga instructor

Jill Lawler, a former student of Choudhury's from a 2012 training, filed a civil suit against him for rape and harassment in July after her first complaint in 2016 was held up in Choudhury's company's bankruptcy lawsuit. Lawler and her legal team are going straight for the jugular in a civil suit, seeking punitive damages from Choudhury himself. 

"Teacher Training was intense and demanding," the lawsuit says. "Unbeknownst to [Lawler], Bikram Choudhury referred to them as 'one big brainwashing session.'"

While some in the yoga community ― specifically the Bikram yoga community ― have taken lengths to distance their practices from the man himself, others have ignored the allegations altogether, or shrugged them off and given him thousands of dollars. In fact, the majority of his students are women, and the bulk of his wealth has come from them, despite his alleged predation. 

"It's bizarre to me that people still go to these trainings. I find it very hard to understand how someone could look [at the allegations of rape] and have questions about what happened," said Jessamyn Stanley, a yoga instructor whose presence in the industry has inspired more diverse bodies to pick up the practice. 'We as a community need to recover from this and look at this.'"

The Brussels Times: Jehovah's Witnesses: 90 victims of sexual abuse come forward

"The organisation "Reclaimed Voices" has worked with other groups in the country to identify cases within the Jehovah's Witness organisation in Belgium, reports Le Soir.

"For most victims, it has been 10 or 15 years since the abuses took place," Patrick Haeck, former Jehovah's Witness and coordinator of the association. When they are still Jehovah's Witnesses, people who contact Reclaimed Voices express an immense fear of confiding in them, he added.

An official investigation was launched following initial reports by the media in December 2018 and March 2019. Searches were carried out at the central headquarters of Jehovah's Witnesses in Kraainem at the end of April, but the prosecutor's office did provide an update on the case.

Jehovah's Witnesses Belgium wants to collaborate with the justice system, said the spokesman for the organisation. In Belgium, Jehovah's Witnesses say they have 25,000 members, Reclaimed Voices expects to eventually count 200 to 250 victims of abuse.

Some people come forward for several victims, explained Haeck, for example, parents who tell us that their three or four children have been abused."

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Former skinhead speaks at Cuyahoga Community College about living a hate-filled lifestyle

Frank Wile

News5

March 1, 2019

CLEVELAND — Christian Picciolini told a group of listeners at Cuyahoga Community College that was recruited to become a skinhead while growing up in Chicago.

Picciolini said that he was raised well, but his parents worked hard, so they couldn’t watch his every move.

“I had everything I should’ve had to have for a decent life,” Picciolini said. “1987 — nobody in America knew what a skinhead was at that point. I didn’t come from a racist home.”

He was 14 when he began living a hate-filled lifestyle.

“That’s how I had been taught, that’s how I had been brainwashed, and that’s how I then used that information to recruit other people,” Picciolini said. “I really didn’t see what I was doing wrong; I thought I was saving the world.”

According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, American’s saw a 50 percent increase in white nationalist groups in 2018.

Picciolini said he spent eight years as a skinhead. It would take his wife and kids leaving him for him to walk away.

“I had prioritized the movement more than my family. I needed to leave, or I was going to die,” said Picciolini.

To atone, he has been traveling and speaking to groups, hoping to deter white supremacy. Picciolini recently released a book describing his experiences, "White American Youth: My Descent Into America's Most Violent Hate Movement--and How I Got Out."

“I think there are a lot of white Americans who may be afraid to admit there is a white supremacist problem in the United States, because by default, that would mean they were complicit in something,” said Picciolini.

https://www.news5cleveland.com/news/local-news/cleveland-metro/former-skinhead-speaks-at-cuyahoga-community-college-about-living-at-hate-filled-lifestyle

Former Philly neo-Nazi now fighting white supremacy with empathy

Frank Meeink

At 16, Frank Meeink was a notorious skinhead gang leader. Later, out of prison, a Jewish business owner helped him see things differently.

JOHN KOPP
PhillyVoice Staff
October 18, 2017

Frank Meeink remembers rolling into a Lancaster nightclub with one primary purpose: picking a fight with a group of skaters during a concert.

He was 14 years old and his childhood had been anything but easy. But the South Philadelphia native finally had found acceptance – with a group of skinheads.

A fight indeed broke out during the concert, with Meeink safely perched atop the shoulders of a larger skinhead. Yet, he realized their power when his group verbally threatened another skater as they left the venue.

"I saw the look on his face and I absolutely loved it," Meeink said. "... It felt good to see someone have fear of me. That night, someone asked if I wanted to be a part of it, and I f***ing jumped at it."

Soon, Meeink was hating more than skaters.

Meeink quickly ascended the ranks of the neo-Nazi world, even hosting a cable access talk show, "The Reich," on television. But within three years, he was a teenager serving time in an adult prison in Illinois.

Once again, his world began to change – a bit more slowly. He began questioning his white supremacist ideology, eventually abandoning his fellow neo-Nazis not long after being released from prison.

Today, Meeink serves as a vocal opponent of white supremacy, sharing his recovery story at speaking engagements across the country.

An updated version of his book, "Autobiography of a Recovering Skinhead," was published last month by Hawthorne Books, adding an additional nine chapters to history. The new section details his struggles with addiction, his friendships with celebrities and the deaths of his son and mother.

"I end the book saying, 'I don't know what's going to happen,'" Meeink said. "I just know that it's been a long journey and the book is what I've learned."

But Meeink said he'll never return to a lifestyle based on hate.

"Racism is the greatest bait-and-switch ever pulled in the world," Meeink said. "It's a legendary bait-and-switch. It's done on such a horrendous scale. It's something you have no control of – it's your skin."

White supremacy provides its believers acceptance, a feeling coveted by most of the ideology's recruits, Meeink said. But that acceptance comes at a tremendous cost.

Meeink remembers a conversation he once had with Tony McAleer, a former recruiter for the White Aryan Resistance with whom he co-founded Life After Hate, a nonprofit that helps individuals who want to leave a lifestyle of hatred and violence.

"'Frank, we didn't lose our humanity when we joined this group,'" Meeink recalled McAleer saying. "'We just gave it up for acceptance.'"

'THIS BECAME MY LIFE'

Meeink was introduced to white supremacy when he moved out to the Lancaster area to live with his cousin, who helped him assimilate into a group of neo-Nazis.

And it came at a moment when he was craving acceptance.

His childhood in South Philly had been difficult. His mother mostly raised him on her own until age 9, when she remarried a man whom Meeink says often tried to "beat the Italian out of me."

"I can't say, 'Abracadabra, I'm not the neo-Nazi whisperer here. I'm just a guy who can relate to a guy who has gone down that path." – Frank Meeink, former Philadelphia skinhead

At 13, Meeink moved in with his dad in Southwest Philadelphia, where he attended a mostly-black middle school. He routinely engaged in fights.

Meeink finally found people who took an interest in his life when he went to live with his cousin.

He accompanied the skinheads to Bible studies, where they'd share ideology. Beforehand, they'd shoot guns together.

Most importantly, the skinheads inquired about his life in Philly.

"They couldn't fathom that I had seen black people all the time," Meeink said. "To me, it was someone asking me, 'How is my life?'"

Finally feeling accepted, Meeink eventually bought into their ideology.

He soon was traveling across the country, recruiting others to join the neo-Nazi movement and espousing his views on television. He rolled with neo-Nazi groups notorious for their violence.

"It changed everything in me," Meeink said. "I grew up a huge Philadelphia Flyers fan, a huge Philadelphia Eagles fan. I could tell you who their draft picks were up until 1988. After 1988, until 1994, I can't tell you who was on the team. This became my life."

SEEDS OF CHANGE

One Christmas Eve, Meeink and an accomplice kidnapped a rival skinhead at gunpoint in Springfield, Illinois and spent the evening beating him – all while recording it on videotape. The victim informed the police and, soon enough, Meeink was serving three years in an adult correctional facility.

But that experience provided the seeds for change.

During prison recess, Meeink began playing football with a group of black inmates who welcomed him into their crowd – despite his swastika tattoo.

"Right now, one of their guys is in the White House. They feel empowered by this, definitely." – Frank Meeink

"They let me be a kickoff returner on the first play," Meeink said. "I knew no one was going to block for me. I ran that ball back for a touchdown. After that, they let me play."

And bonds began to form.

"After we were done playing sports with the guys, you talk," Meeink said. "You talk about home life. You talk about girls. I just enjoyed my time with them. ... They were city kids like me."

Upon his prison release, Meeink initially returned to his neo-Nazi crowd in Philadelphia. But a number of experiences, including his time in prison, prompted him to leave.

A Jewish man in Fox Chase not only had given him a job as a furniture assemblyman, but he had treated Meeink with respect. He began cross-referencing his stereotypes with the realities he saw in his life.

But it was empathy that broke him, Meeink said. And it holds the power to do that to others, too.

Today, when he's talking to someone struggling to overcome his or her hateful ideology, that's the tool he uses.

"I can't say, 'Abracadabra,'" Meeink said. "I'm not the neo-Nazi whisperer here. I'm just a guy who can relate to a guy who has gone down that path."

FROM HIDING TO ACTIVISM

For Meeink, the path to advocacy began with the Oklahoma City bombing, carried out by Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols in April 1995.

The explosion at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building killed 168 people. Afterward, investigators found excerpts of "The Turner Diaries" in McVeigh's getaway car. The novel, by neo-Nazi William Pierce, describes the bombing of the FBI headquarters with a homemade bomb.

"That whole event tore me up inside," Meeink said. "When I saw the pictures of that dead little girl in the firefighter's arms, it made me go from a guy in South Philly who was hiding from his past to an activist."

Meeink first went to the FBI – not because he had anything to report, but because he knew they would understand his past. The FBI pointed him to the Anti-Defamation League, which kickstarted the speaking engagements he has continued to this day.

"You can't just not do bad s*** and think you should get a cookie for that," Meeink said. "I started thinking, 'I'm always going to do something positive.'"

Meeink partnered with the Flyers to launch Hockey Through Harmony, a hate prevention program, and later developed a similar program in Des Moines, Iowa, where he now lives.

He also helped launch Life After Hate, where he speaks with people grappling with the same hatred he once fostered.

'THEY FEEL EMPOWERED'

White supremacist groups have gained headlines across the United States during the last year, most prominently during a rally in Charlottesville that left three people dead, including Heather Heyer, who was killed when a car crashed into a crowd of protesters.

Meeink is blunt when addressing the state of white supremacy in America.

"Right now, one of their guys is in the White House," Meeink said. "They feel empowered by this, definitely. "

White supremacist groups also surged after Barack Obama was elected president in 2008, Meeink said. But they lost their momentum when Obama didn't take the myriad actions white supremacists claimed he would. But Trump's campaign awakened them.

Now, many white supremacists groups are identifying as "Alt-Right," an uber-form of conservatism.

"They always have to rebrand themselves from the groups that are before them, because they did really bad s***," Meeink said. "These guys have to change the script a little bit. They have to say, 'We're not the same guys.'

"They're fearful, scared males. It's the same group."

That fear prompts them to resort to violence, as seen in Charlottesville, Meeink said.

"Because you're full of fear, that's what happens," Meeink said. "They lash out violently. What else are you going to get out of the situation?"

That's where Meeink preaches empathy.

Violence by leftist groups won't halt the hateful rhetoric spewed by white supremacists, Meeink said. Nor will accusations.

Instead, Meeink said, it takes someone to show them the love and empathy they seek. And it helps when it comes from someone like him, who once shared the same identity.

"I'm going to tell them why they believe that way," Meeink said. "Here's the truth to that. Or here's the turning point."

It's what led him out of white supremacism. And he's convinced it's the best tool for leading others out, too.

http://www.phillyvoice.com/former-philly-neo-nazi-now-fighting-white-supremacy-empathy/

The Gift of Our Wounds: A Sikh and a Former White Supremacist Find Forgiveness After Hate

Arno Michaelis
Pardeep Kaleka

The powerful story of a friendship between two men―one Sikh and one skinhead―that resulted in an outpouring of love and a mission to fight against hate.

One Sikh. One former Skinhead. Together, an unusual friendship emerged out of a desire to make a difference.

When white supremacist Wade Michael Page murdered six people and wounded four in a Sikh Temple in Wisconsin in 2012, Pardeep Kaleka was devastated. The temple leader, now dead, was his father. His family, who had immigrated to the U.S. from India when Pardeep was young, had done everything right. Why was this happening to him? Meanwhile, Arno Michaelis, a former skinhead and founder of one of the largest racist skinhead organizations in the world, had spent years of his life committing terrible acts in the name of white power. When he heard about the attack, waves of guilt washing over him, he knew he had to take action and fight against the very crimes he used to commit.

After the Oak Creek tragedy, Arno and Pardeep worked together to start an organization called Serve 2 Unite, which works with students to create inclusive, compassionate and nonviolent climates in their schools and communities. Their story is one of triumph of love over hate, and of two men who breached a great divide to find compassion and forgiveness. With New York Times bestseller Robin Gaby Fisher telling Arno and Pardeep's story, The Gift of Our Wounds is a timely reminder of the strength of the human spirit, and the courage and compassion that reside within us all.

Arno Michaelis is author of My Life After Hate and works with Serve 2 Unite. He has appeared on major media outlets including the BBC, The New York Times, and The Washington Post, and most recently, The View.

Pardeep S. Kaleka is co-founder of Serve 2 Unite and has appeared on NBC, Fox, CNN, Democracy Now, NPR, and Voices on Antisemitism.

Robin Gaby Fisher is a New York Times bestselling author of seven non-fiction books and a two-time finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in Feature Writing.

Product details

Hardcover: 288 pages

Publisher: St. Martin's Press (April 10, 2018)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1250107547

ISBN-13: 978-1250107541

https://www.amazon.com/Gift-Our-Wounds-Supremacist-Forgiveness/dp/1250107547/