Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism

From the outside, fitness cults may wrinkle noses with religious language and lofty ideas, but Montell was surprised to find herself so easily moved by the intenSati class she took. Fitness studios and brands alike are aware of the power of language to build community and loyalty. Though it may look strange to outsiders, that’s part of what makes it feel so good to insiders: that sense of identity through the group. One of the smarter moves the fitness industry made was pivoting from the 1990s rhetoric “of patriarchal body hatred to talk of goddesslike power” (223). Fitness cults understand the importance of language in motivating the group, and SoulCycle intentionally waits to deliver the hardest-hitting emotional moments “when students are so physically beat that they’ll be more receptive to kernels of spirituality” (224). Fitness cults lean heavily on religious language and ideas, even when they don’t embrace religion, and the effects of language on members are profound, like making skeptical, cynical Montell, who cringes at the idea of cult fitness, cry.

Since fitness cults lean heavily on religion, it’s no surprise their leaders are akin to clergy or cult leaders. In fact, members of fitness groups tend to show fierce loyalty to their instructors more than to the broader group. Montell uses Peloton, a successful remote fitness company that makes fitness gamelike and accessible from anywhere, to illustrate the importance of instructors to users. While the users may like Peloton, their true loyalty lies with the leaders of their classes. Brands like Peloton know this and have incredibly high standards for teachers. They manage a small roster of instructors, since they can deliver content to far more students than was possible in traditional studio spaces, but it’s critical that these instructors are able to create that intimate experience for users. Peloton has a Broadway-level competition for its extremely exclusive hiring process because it knows its success hinges on quality instructors who bring authenticity and inspiration to users.

The fitness industry draws its strength from the United States’ obsession with self-improvement and Protestant values. This religious connection is evident in common fitness vocabulary, like “cleanse, detox, purify, obedience, discipline, perfection” (236). This kind of language lends a moral value to the physical work people do. This is evident even in groups like CrossFit, where members sport injuries like trophies. For many CrossFit members, incurring physical damage is a part of gaining spiritual value. Apart from the physical injury and social pressure to perform in groups like CrossFit, there is another major issue: inclusivity. These groups, like most cults, are inherently not inclusive. They borrow Eastern ideas and language from marginalized groups all while ostracizing members of those groups. These accusations were little more than anecdotes until CrossFit’s founder, Greg Glassman, outed himself as racist on social media in 2020 when the Black Lives Matter movement occurred. SoulCycle, too, fell out of grace when it was caught up in the scandal of using “the words ‘Aunt Jemima’ and ‘twinks’ and calling curvy staffers ‘not on brand’” (241). What’s curious about these cults is that they can go on even without their leaders, and this is considered the mark of a successful cult. The strains in reaching marginalized groups are often a reflection of societal issues rather than a necessarily intentional approach.

Bikam Choudhury, an infamous guru who founded a hot-yoga empire in the 1970s, whom many refer to as “the Anti-Yogi, the Walter White of yoga," or “the crowned head of McYoga” (244), relied on cursing at and insulting his members to push them to grow. He used these strategies alongside love-bombing, pushing them to the point of passing out and getting sick. His empire fell when women started coming forward about Choudhury sexually assaulting them, and the vacuum this left was filled by another problematic yoga cult known as CorePower. CorePower shares many of the characteristics of cults, including forced emotional intimacy at moments of physical exhaustion. Allegations against the group led to five federal lawsuits, but despite this, CorePower still has a dedicated following. One of the ways they are able to successfully abuse and retain members is through language, like thought-terminating clichés, including “return the karma” (148), which basically serves as a blanket statement to guilt teachers into doing free labor and pushing themselves beyond their limits. Language is so powerful that, even in the face of objective mistreatment and being stretched thin between multiple jobs, many teachers and members proudly stick with their fitness cult.

Montell provides a series of questions to ask oneself when contemplating a role in a fitness community with cultish tendencies, such as the nature of the group, the pressures it puts on members, and if casual participation is allowed. If the cult isn’t actively harmful and the member can leave the language behind when the class is over, then it’s probably fine to be a part of, even if it has silly, cultish language and rituals. A fitness group can be a part of a person’s identity but shouldn’t dictate all of it.