I want to make clear that I’m writing this story in the interest of perspective. I don’t think of myself as an “ex-Scientology kid,” but rather a young man without religion. When I read about Kendra in the Times as having started this site I was shocked; I remembered her from the Pro Metering course as a skinny, thoughtful teenager who seemed infinitely older than my adolescent self though we were the same age. I didn't see her for a while after that, until we bumped into each other down the road at an all-night diner. Scientologists tend to be a fiercely loyal bunch, and I'd heard something about her leaving. She looked different, but she was cordial for what it's worth. We smoked cigarettes and talked about the Seattle WTO protests. She told me about culture jamming. That was the last time I saw her.

Reading through her story felt like a long, slow knife in the back. We hadn't known each other that well, but I still felt like I needed to at least contact her and tell her how I felt, so I did. She explained to me that she wasn’t trying to tear anything down, just give a different opinion on grievances she saw to be true. She suggested I write this to show a balanced perspective and I agreed on the condition that it was posted to the letter. I think that’s fair. It struck me that our lives have run in parallels to some extent but our conclusions are opposite. I believe this site is misguided, but so long as it presents both sides then I will defend, always, it’s right to exist. So here goes:

I was born and raised in a Scientology family. From the age of ten I split my days between school and Scientology studies; school in the morning, “course” in the afternoons. By fifteen I was impressive enough to the adults around me, by seventeen I could’ve done it for a living had I so chosen. It wasn’t a stretch-- both my parents run a private, for-profit auditing practice-- I described them as Scientology counselors. None of this seemed particularly unusual to me at the time. Everyone thinks their family is strange-- my Israeli, orthodox relatives always seemed to be leading far stranger lives than any of us. My dad’s love of terrible baseball teams and my parent’s stories about dating for a week and getting hitched in Vegas (thirty-five years and counting) seemed odd. Being a Scientologist was normal.

Age nineteen: most of my friends weren't Scientologists; my girlfriend was a Christian. It was never an issue. I got a lot of questions, most of them I knew the answers to, some I didn’t. For me the quick list of answers would’ve gone somewhere along these lines: Yes, I believe in past lives. No, I don’t believe in aliens-- or if they’re out there then I’ve never met one. Yes, we’re allowed to see doctors. No, we’re not allowed to take drugs. Yes, Scientology costs money, but it’s complicated-- my parents do it for a living but they drove a ’92 Camry for ten years and name-brand toothpaste was considered a luxury in my house. They never got rich off it, they believed in it. They still do. I always had ideas that ran counter to popular Scientology opinion. I asked a lot of questions, I drove my teachers out of their minds. But I was never forced into it, I thought it was important and worthwhile. It would be patronizing to assume otherwise.

Things began to change when I lost my girlfriend. It really hit me hard-- I felt depressed for months, lost, confused, you name it-- a litany of every crumpled-up emotion that comes with your first heartbreak. I was getting auditing to try and fix it, but nothing fixed it. I didn’t want auditing or therapy or other people’s opinions. I wanted my girlfriend back. Then I looked around one day and realized I’d taken a lot of things for granted, that nothing's worth knowing if you can't come to it on your own. I stuck around for a while longer, and then one day I stopped.

No flashing lights, no rumbles or explosions. I was never harassed when I left, I was never abused. I was never intimidated into coming back. I got a few too many phone calls from over-zealous people, but I told them to respectfully go fuck themselves and that was the end of it. Some of my friends were taken aback, but most of them shrugged it off. The few who didn’t I am better without. My mom cried a little, my dad took it in stride. They told me I’d been raised to think for myself and so to go do whatever I needed, they’d always be there if I needed them. Now granted, my parents happen to be the two best people I know; but it’s absurd to think that I’m the exception and not the rule.

I took off for a year and traveled the world. I smoked a lot of pot. I dipped my toe in the drug scene, I dabbled in other religions. I had a great time, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I ended up where I still stand to this day: great with philosophy, bad with religion. I don’t know what happens when you die, if there’s a god or not. I don’t think anyone’s got things quite figured out. I don’t believe in a magic bullet or a golden path to happiness. I don’t claim to have the answers and that all fits just fine for now.

I’ve seen so many kids my age fall away from the religion they were raised in, sometimes that's just a part of growing up. Some of them have truly terrible experiences with it, most of them don’t.

If there are widespread abuses in Scientology, then I’m a statistical freak: I have never seen, or heard of, any abuse done by a church member to someone I know. If I had then I would've called the police. It never would have crossed my mind to go to a "church official" in the first place. I know I speak for my friends as well.

If people swear they’ve had terrible experiences in the Sea Org then I’m in no position to say they’re all liars, or bad people or anything else. I will only point to the fact that I know plenty of happy, well-adjusted Sea Org members. My sister is one of them. She’s getting married next month. The Israelis are flying in and we're getting a rabbi out of respect. We couldn't live more different lives, but she's intelligent, and kind, and I look up to her in a lot of ways. If I thought anyone was hurting her in any capacity I'd break their proverbial kneecaps myself.

Listen: if someone of authority takes a child and forces them to tell every bad thing they’ve ever done, against their will-- forces them not to speak their mind, then that does not make Scientology evil-- it makes that person a manipulative asshole. If someone commits a crime, they should be held accountable. No free-thinking member of any religion will tell you otherwise.

Do I find aspects of Scientology objectionable? Without a doubt, no one's perfect. How would I compare it to other religions? Pretty damn high. Organized systems of thought aren’t my cup of tea, but this is the one I was raised in and I’m happy with my life; that alone should be enough to grant my family the respect to do and believe whatever they wish. Anyone, in my opinion, is perfectly welcome to think whatever they like of Scientology, but I would ask, once again, for perspective.

A short time ago there were hundreds of people in white masks protesting outside the building where I did every school play since Kindergarten, where my sister works, and nobody bats an eye. They say they want to destroy the leadership of this church, and no one questions their intent. If this sight is inspiring to some, then I’ll say those people are on the wrong side of history. I suppose many would disagree with me. Well, perhaps they’re right. But if Scientology were to die out then with it goes my childhood conscience telling me that honesty is the most important thing, that communication can resolve all conflicts, that none survive alone and what’s good for all people is what’s good for yourself.

With it goes the lifeblood of my family, their life work. You might think they’re crazy, I’d say you were wrong, but you’re welcome to think so. I think they're the greatest. If we need a common ground let's take my word that they are at the very least sincere, well-intentioned people. As are the vast majority of Scientologists that I know, and I think that obligates decent people to defend them on principle, because they’d do the same in a heartbeat.