‘They mix social media branding with the deep pull of religion’: SoulCycle, OneTaste, and the cult of wellness

As some of the leading lights of the wellness sector face allegations of sexual misconduct, Olivia Petter examines the consequences of cult-like mentalities that have become synonymous with the industry

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If someone tells you they’re going to change your life, you listen, right? This is the promise made to consumers across the wellness industry: that whatever they’re selling will better you in one way or another, whether it’s a spinning class or a new sex toy. For a while, this form of marketing thrived without criticism, with much of it viewed as a refreshing alternative to the weight loss culture of the early Noughties that unashamedly sold size zero to the masses.

But in recent years, the wellness sector has been interrogated with increasing scrutiny – no longer taken at face value as more empowering or less problematic than its predecessor – with everyone from Gwyneth Paltrow to clean-eating pioneers like the Hemsley sisters coming under fire for their grandiose health claims about the transcendental powers of jade eggs and kale.

But the nature of these criticisms has taken a darker turn in recent months. In December 2020, SoulCycle, the boutique fitness phenomenon favoured by the likes of Beyoncé and Victoria Beckham, was accused of fostering a “toxic atmosphere” characterised by sexual misconduct, bullying, and abuse. Allegations outlined in an exposé published in Vox ranged from instructors fat-shaming clients and reserving front row bikes for the most attractive riders to verbally abusing front desk staffers and, in one instance, pressuring a rider to perform oral sex.

The allegations followed those levelled against another wellness giant, OneTaste, which taught a practice it described as “orgasmic meditation” (OM) whereby men would “stroke” women until they reached orgasm, often in groups of 30 or more pairs. Members of the OneTaste community would often end up working for the company, and in some cases, living together in a communal house in Brooklyn, New York, where they would gather seven days a week to practise OM. This was a company that was once touted at the next big thing in female empowerment (Paltrow was among their fans) but is now being investigated by the FBI over allegations of sex trafficking, prostitution and violations of labour law. 

Here were two major companies once seen as leading lights within the wellness sector. Now that they are facing serious allegations – OneTaste has denied any claims of abusive practices while SoulCycle said it will investigate and address any allegations “related to behavior within our community that does not align to our values” – people have started to examine the culture that these companies perpetuated, both among clients and employees.

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While the two sets of allegations are very different, there are also some key similarities observed by former staffers and leading academics who specialise in the study of organisational behaviour. Namely, that both have been described as cults.

“I define a cult as a group that is controlling people’s behaviour, thoughts and emotions to the degree that it makes those people dependent on and obedient to a leader or the group’s ideology,” Steven Hassan, renowned expert on cults and the author of The Cult of Trump and Freedom of Mind tells The Independent. Hassan says different types of cult exist on a spectrum, with some being more harmful or dangerous than others. This depends on a number of factors, including the number of behaviour control variables monitored by the cult, which can be everything from sleep and diet to clothing and sexual partners.

“Obviously neither OneTaste nor SoulCycle would not be considered to be as threatening as, say, ISIS,” notes Hassan, “but they exist on this continuum where there’s less focus on an individual’s level of control and it’s more about a group identity, one that is dictated by an external authority figure telling you what’s good for you.”

Even those on the fringes of involvement in these companies – those attending workout classes for example – can attest to this dynamic. Take SoulCycle, or spinning classes more generally. In between them directing your technique, it’s not uncommon for instructors to shout inspirational mantras – think: “you’re stronger than you think you are”, “if you complain you’ll remain”, and “it doesn’t matter how you start, what matters is how you finish”. It’s no wonder that SoulCycle’s CEO recently described its USP as: “We’re in the business of personal transformations.”

The sector preys on the lack of wider belief systems in society, like religion

André Spicer

This paired with the sector’s obsession with community – clients in the boutique fitness world are often encouraged to talk to one another after class and communicate with each other on social media or wear branded merchandise – can make you feel increasingly dependent. The brand not only promises to make you fitter, healthier and happier, but also offers you lifelong friends and a sense of belonging. 

“There’s a pressure to be part of one monolithic unit in the spinning world,” says Rebecca*, a 35-year-old boutique fitness fan from London. “Instructors tell us to ‘ride as one’ and be this hyper-enthusiastic version of yourself at all times, which I find quite anxiety inducing.” The connections fostered between instructors and regular riders can feel intimidating, too. “There are certain people who ride at the front and gyrate on their bikes like they’ve dropped a tab of acid,” she adds. “While it’s great to see such enthusiasm, it makes me feel a little excluded from this community and puts a pressure on you to socialise more or put yourself out there before and after the class. I just want to exercise.”

There’s another reason why people might be drawn to the “community” promised by so many companies within the wellness industry. “The sector preys on the lack of wider belief systems in society, like religion,” says André Spicer, professor of organisational behaviour at the City, University of London. “As a result, people are looking for a sense of meaning, purpose and community.” In many ways, Spicer argues that the wellness industry is structured like a secular religion, complete with rituals, priests, punishments, and even confessions, although not necessarily in those terms.

It’s no coincidence that SoulCycle, CrossFit, and other wellness companies have been compared to a church: the instructor is usually at the front, on a raised platform with a spotlight on them, holding a microphone through which they will espouse their inspiring aphorisms. Sometimes fake candles are even dotted around the studio. “These companies mix the allure of social media branding, a cure for the traumas of contemporary life, with the deep pull of religion,” adds Spicer.   

The issue is that this can appeal to some people more than others. Within One Taste, for example, many of its members were sexual assault survivors. For them, joining the company and being a part of this supposedly empowering community that championed female sexuality was a way of reclaiming their sexual autonomy.

Whether you’ve been through trauma or not, it’s only natural to want to feel like you belong somewhere. But this, Hassan notes, is what the wellness sector is exploiting. “The issue is what is it about how these groups are manipulating people to the point where they feel dependent on whatever product is on offer. “We know that working out endorphins, for example, but you have a bigger life than just what you do with exercise, and there needs to be very clear written ethics around boundaries in this sector.”

In Hassan’s work, he points to something called phobia indoctrination. This, he explains, described the irrational fear that people have that if they stop taking the product or stop going to the classes, terrible things are going to happen to them. “These kinds of irrational fears are a big part of what keeps people in cults”, he explains.

In the case of the fitness industry, this phobia might take the form of fearing how your body will change if you stop attending the classes. “I always find it concerning when clients tell me about the language used in the boutique fitness sector,” says personal trainer Sam Gubbey. “They’re told things like, ‘why are you giving up now’ and ‘remember why you came here in the first place’, which can become quite dangerous when body image and weight are involved.” By preying on your insecurities, the language used by instructors identifies both a problem (your body) and a solution (the class).

As for sexual wellness companies like OneTaste, the stakes were much higher according to the serious allegations levelled against the brand, with former members financially, emotionally and sexually indebted to the company.

Hassan notes that these communities also perpetuate binary ideologies, which appeal purely because of its simplicity. Turning up the resistance on your bike is good, for example, but giving up is bad. Saying yes to exploring your sexuality in a meditative way is good, saying no is bad. In both instances, choosing the so-called bad option will make you feel ostracised from the group. This can put you at a greater risk of thought control, says Hassan. 

It’s about realising it’s not one size fits all, and the individual needs to feel empowered to see nuance and make their own decisions

Steven Hassan

“It’s the idea of seeing things as black and white as opposed to appreciating that everybody is different and there’s complexity,” he explains. “For example, meditation might be good for some people and terrible for others, despite what the mediation company will tell you. It’s about realising it’s not one size fits all, and the individual needs to feel empowered to see nuance and make their own decisions.”

Of course, when rates of loneliness are skyrocketing, the psychological benefits of feeling like you’re a part of something bigger than yourself can be exponential. Take Carolyn, 32, who is part of a Disco Barre community in east London. “We are a tight knit group, which means we get an effective workout with the benefit of feeling a sense of belonging,” she says. “Throughout lockdown, the community at Disco Barre has been a lifesaver for all of us and has helped us feel less isolated.”

Experiences like Carolyn’s are objectively beneficial, both mentally and physically. The difficulties - and instances where wellness communities slip into cult-like groups - begin when people become so entrenched within their community that independent thought becomes compromised. “It can get to a point where the community is such an echo chamber that people don’t have external references to judge their own behaviour against,” says Spicer. “You also tend to then give rise to groupthink - where people can no longer think for themselves. And some people are more susceptible to that than others.”

In response to the allegations, a OneTaste representative previously said: “Any allegations of abusive practices are completely false. OneTaste was an organisation that helped individuals to increase health, happiness and connection through methods combining mindfulness and sexuality. More than 300,000 people practice Orgasmic Meditation worldwide. Many have experienced profound healing and transformation.”

In response to the allegations, a spokesperson for SoulCycle previously said: “At SoulCycle, our priority has always been to build a community centred on our core values of diversity, inclusion, acceptance and love. When we receive complaints or allegations related to behaviour within our community that does not align to our values, we take those very seriously and both investigate and address them. We are committed to continuing to make improvements and ensuring that we live up to the values that our teams and riders expect of us.”

The Independent has contacted SoulCycle and OneTaste for further comment.

*Names have been changed to protect anonymity