November 13, 2023 - 7:30pm

In any culture, taboos require careful handling. There is something inside a taboo that demands respect and punishes transgressions. A new Netflix documentary provides a fascinating case of a filmmaker attempting to navigate the taboos that have grown up around gender — that gender identity is innate, that it would be wrong to think of trans communities as in any way “cult-like” — while reporting on an online dating cult. 

Escaping Twin Flames dives into a strange, closed world helmed by Jeff and Shaleia Ayan — surely two of the least charismatic cult leaders ever to draw a following. The Twin Flames Universe cult promised to unite members with their “twin flames”, or soulmates. In the process, the Ayans ensnared members in a multi-level marketing scheme, selling thousands of dollars’ worth of “coaching sessions” and encouraging members to engage in risky and sometimes illegal acts to achieve “harmonious union” with their ultimate partners. 

When twin flames proved hard to come by, the Ayans shifted course. Faced with a shortage of “Divine Masculine” energies, they pressured female members of the cult to change their names and pronouns and pursue gender transition. At least two cult members subsequently underwent “top surgery” as part of their transformation, while other members resisted this top-down redefinition.

The filmmakers bend over backwards to disavow any parallels between gender transition within Twin Flames Universe and gender transition generally. In doing so, they interview a transgender scholar, Cassius Adair, who suggests that some of these women may have come to an authentic self-realisation that they were trans, and close the documentary with a disclaimer that “trans people of all ages are leading joyous, full, normal lives, and transition-related care helps make that possible”, and that fewer than 1% of people regret their decision to transition. At one point, Adair says: 

What I think is very troubling about the Twin Flames Universe story is that people might hear about this group and say, ‘Oh, this is proof that transness is some kind of cult, that transness is something that is coerced.’ And nothing could be further from the truth. 
- Cassius Adair

But — despite the filmmakers’ protestations — the documentary itself presents uncomfortable parallels with gender transition outside Twin Flames Universe. The testimonials of cult members questioning and embracing their new transgender identifications sound all too familiar to those of us steeped in online trans communities. In a short video posted to Instagram, for example, cult member “Ray” describes the experience of coming out as transgender: “I urge you guys to really choose to be your authentic self, because I found when I was doing that and claiming my masculinity to its fullest, that’s when my twin flame came into my life.” 

Others speak of “the truth of who you are”. The language of authenticity — and the encouragement to keep forging ahead with transition — is indistinguishable from the language employed in online trans spaces. There are the same wild vacillations from affirmation to rejection when one fails to follow the script. In the film, Jeff Ayan hammers on the need to “accept that you are truly a man inside”, advice online trans communities regularly dole out to members of wavering faith. 

“I definitely had a lot of ‘blocks’,” one member says, reflecting on her initial reluctance to transition. But in Twin Flames Universe, “blocks” are something one has a responsibility to overcome. In trans communities, these doubts and reservations go by a different name — internalised transphobia, for one — but, beneath the branding, it’s hard to tell the two processes apart.  

In another segment, the estranged mother of a cult member describes her child’s simultaneous slide into Twin Flames Universe and trans identification — a slide that began with her child disappearing into online spaces. She describes a process of radicalisation that will sound familiar to many parents of trans-identified children and young adults, who likewise disappeared online and reemerged speaking a strange new language that often strikes parents as scripted. 

One also gets the sense that the appeal to unhappy seekers carries over from one community to the other. “Folks, it will be OK. Go for what you want,” a Redditor urged an online female-t0-male transgender community, in a post entirely typical of the genre. “If you do not make a change, you will never know what could’ve happened. This is the core of deciding to transition.” 

This is also the core of any successful cult pitch: if you don’t join, you’ll never know what could’ve happened. You’ll miss out on your twin flame. You’ll pass on your true self. 


Eliza Mondegreen is a graduate student in psychiatry and the author of Writing Behavior on Substack.

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