They're Not Alien Sex Cultists. They're My Friends.

They're Not Alien Sex Cultists. They're My Friends.

written by maddie barron

photographed by cate banks

I went to the alien sex cult meeting on a Sunday, but opted to wear the Monday pair from my days of the week underwear to act as a good luck charm and guarantee I’d make it to the next day.

I first learned about the Raёlists when I encountered Kasyo in Downtown Boston. The older woman, with bleached hair and rough skin, stood in the sun like Jesus on the cross. I took a pamphlet from the fanned pile in her hands advertising the Raёlian religion. 

The Raёlians believe in Elohim, exceptionally intelligent extraterrestrial scientists devoted to advancing human civilization. Claude Vorilhon, the founder of Raёlism, created the religion in 1973 after an encounter with a singular Eloha who visited “to monitor and watch over the development of humanity.” 

Vorilhon aptly changed his name to Raёl (derivative of Israel) and documented the visit in his 412-page book Intelligent Design. The alien described stands at four feet tall and is adorned with long black hair, an angular goatee, and liver-failure yellow skin. My first encounter with Raёl’s alien happened 52 years later, when I found myself in a stranger’s living room in rural Massachusetts watching a Raёlian introduction video that depicted the alien as a chibi/anime artist’s forlorn interpretation of Michael Jackson. 

I emailed Kasyo, the woman I snagged a flier from, to attend the Raёl Boston First Sunday of April celebration. The e-vite listed an address inauspiciously labeled Rob’s house under the guise of peaceful meditation and “sharing news, food, and laughter” to honor the anniversary of Elohim creating humankind. Raёlians believe Elohim created all civilization then selected human-Elohim crossbreeds to spread their messages. The list of prophetic dignitaries include the Buddha, Mohammed, Jesus Christ, Joseph Smith, and Raёl himself. Elohim distanced themselves from humanity after Jesus to force the teenage human race into self-determination.

“Extraterrestrials created all life on Earth!”

Direct contact resumed in 1973 with Raёl—humans entered the Age of the Apocalypse when the first atom bomb tick, tick, exploded! Elohim provided more explicit moral guidance to humans as we approached an unprecedented era of scientific advancement.

“We can embrace peace and use technology to better our lives, or we can choose destruction…” says Pastor Rob, who is not a pastor and did not ask to be called Pastor Rob. Everything the Raёlians believe is explained by science: the Holy Mother Mary’s immaculate conception was artificial insemination and Elohim mastered the art of cloning to achieve immortality.

Pastor Rob looks significantly younger than he should, perhaps because of cloning, an organic homegrown diet, deceptively youthful septum piercing, or all three. He speaks in the cadence of a yoga instructor. Accessing his remote house cost me a $27 Uber and cell service.  

The other First Sunday attendees included Kasyo, Poncho Mark, and my under-informed roommate. 

Kasyo joined the church 35 years ago following the tragic death of her sister and after moving from Paris to Scituate, MA, to escape city living and start anew. “I heard Raёl talking,” Kasyo says, “and I said ‘this is it.’ His words really touched me. Everything just made sense. [Raёlism] is about love and happiness. I’m not here to suffer.”

Raёlians believe in prioritizing happiness, carpe diem; The guilt-free pursuit of pleasure. But the pejorative “alien sex cult” label has more to do with Raёl’s 1976 book, The Extraterrestrials Took Me to Their Planet, where he writes about his second encounter with Elohim in which he boarded a spaceship, fornicated with six robot women, and met his clone. Raёlian doctrine says that if an individual can coordinate their sexual climax with the orbit of an Elohim ship, the aliens can upload one’s biological material and clone them. 

I didn’t ask much about the sex stuff, because my Raёlian compadres seldom mentioned it (Pastor Rob: “So much of what we [Raёlians] do when we’re together isn’t about [the sex stuff], it's about the philosophy and putting into practice love, patience, compassion, and meditation.”), and I wasn’t apt to talk shop with Poncho Mark. Poncho Mark, with his purple diamond stud earrings, thigh-length poncho, Ayahuasca retreat bracelet, and shaved head save for a rectangular patch of black hair behind his skull, arrived at Pastor Rob’s house during the screening of the Elohim Michael Jackson introduction video. Before we were introduced, he surreptitiously fumbled under his poncho dangerously near his crotch. Fortunately, he was just reaching to silence his phone. 

Poncho Mark became a Raёlian via telepathy, compelled to read his former Raёlian brother’s books. The three Raёlians before me say they discovered the religion through a sixth sense: telepathy. This is a regular form of communication in Raёlism—compulsions to peruse Raël’s literature or locate other believers. While Poncho Mark remains loyal to the religion, his unfortunate brother was scammed out of a good chunk of change by a Raёlian gold digger during a flight to Canada. He is now a proud member of the Freemasons. 

The purpose of life is to “enjoy it. Laugh for no reason,” Poncho Mark says. The group owes much of their personal developments like patience, communication, and emotional stability, to daily meditation. 

Pastor Rob managed to double-down on his yogi-speak when we transitioned to the meditation portion of the afternoon. Perhaps it was the nature of the day, the alien sex cult of it all, but my head was in the gutter. Pastor Rob spoke on the cuff, mantras chock-full of sexual innuendo: “Is there a taste lingering in your mouth? How does that make you feel?” and “feel all the intricate systems happening within you…” With all the sensual encouragement to “feel infinity,” I should’ve felt existential dread, but all I could think about was getting laid.

Before we arrived, my roommate and I agreed not to eat or drink anything they offered, but after the meditation I indulged in an amuse-bouche, hoping the symbolic drinking of the Kool Aid served a similar purpose to splashing my face with water. 

Then Pastor Rob showed Poncho Mark the curved blade he uses to slaughter his chickens and that did the trick. 

Raёlians are in a constant state of preparation to formally greet Elohim at the Embassy, a conceptualized temple that demonstrates humankind’s gratitude towards their creators. Millions of dollars from Raёlian tithes are set aside to build the Embassy, but constructing a diplomatic structure for extraterrestrial beings requires an amendment to the Geneva Convention, an agreement that has not been updated since 1977. But Pastor Rob remains optimistic: “It’s not a pipe dream.”

Participants in the “structure” of the church are expected to pay an annual tithe, 10% of their income. Tithes aren’t mandated (Poncho Mark: “They’re not going to shoot you”), so contributions vary greatly among members. Kasyo and Pastor Rob have individually donated thousands of dollars to the church, and receive cost breakdowns of said donations. One year, Pastor Rob’s $2,000 contribution went directly to a “Go Topless” campaign, which is exactly what you think it is. 

For the rest of the afternoon, we sat around Pastor Rob’s living room, littered with the Raёlian symbol of infinity, Raёlist pamphlets, little pink toddler shoes, a glass display case of porcelain dolls, and a sign that read: WiFi kittycat. His placid partner Noora with two O’s, three-year-old daughter, and mother joined us on the couch. 

Pastor Rob’s mother carried with her an oxygen tank, the fullest goblet-style glass of wine I’ve ever seen, and a tiny white dog named Ruby, who was two years old but stank like death. The two shared a slice of pineapple; Ruby got the first lick, and the mother unflinchingly had the rest. 

The group was profoundly warm and generous, invested in our lives as much as we were theirs; Much to my mother’s disdain, Kasyo volunteered to drive us to the train station. Kasyo works as a massage therapist and spends weekends in the Boston Common giving free hugs to anyone who really needs it. Pastor Rob welcomed us into his home and answered every question we had. Poncho Mark and I danced around with the free-roaming chickens and laughed at each other’s jokes. 

Every morning, Kasyo decides “today is going to be the happiest day of my life. [I] don’t know if [I’m] going to die in 10 minutes. If a bomb will go off…You never know what’s going to happen,” she declares. 

When she delivers us safely to the train station, we embrace and part ways. “Our first mission,” Kasyo said earlier that afternoon, “is to give love to this planet, to humanity.” 

Rumsha Siddiqui generously joined me on this journey and greatly contributed to the reporting of this article.