When Rutgers College senior Dan Gaztambide left his native Puerto Rico for Rutgers more than two years ago, one of his goals - like many first-year students - was to find a place to fit in.
What he found, however, wasn't just a typical campus organization. Gaztambide believes the group he joined - which he declined to name - was a high-pressure group.
"When I came to this country, I really had the mindset of a conservative Christian," the Rutgers College senior said. "I wanted to find a church to continue practicing my beliefs, to find something similar as back home."
After searching around, he found one that seemed to fit, where the counselors were casual and welcoming
"In the beginning, it was cool," he said. "But it slowly began to get more structured. It became very important to attend church. It was slow change, but it became a rough transition. The leaders started coming in with tailored business suits and saying, 'We are the pastors, obey our word.'"
Groups Target
Vulnerable Students
According to Vice President for Student Affairs Gregory S. Blimling, high-pressure groups are one of the most dangerous threats to a student's well-being, especially in the first year at college.
'"They often begin as a totalistic group," Blimling said. "Part of what they do is try to take total control over a student's life."
When students first come to the University, they may be very confused, asking themselves a lot of questions about who they are and what they believe, Blimling said.
"Most people move on and make decisions to value certain things," he said. "But some people struggle with value issues. They become vulnerable. Groups with strong religious views may come in and tell them what is right and what is wrong and give a prescriptive set of rules. 'Do the things I tell you, and you will go to heaven, you'll be rewarded. If you don't, bad things will happen to you.'"
Drawing You In and Knocking You Down
Regina Navickas, a University College senior, didn't fall into that trap because, she believes she was older and had more experience to draw on when approached by a group. Instead, it was a sense of openness that drew her in.
"It seemed like an open, welcoming church, like you'd expect anywhere," said Navickas, who also declined to name the organization. "I had no problem giving a tithe, no problem supporting something I'm part of."
But once she became more familiar with the leaders, they seemed to have less and less time for her. After a family member had an illness, Navickas said, she had to spend a lot of time away from the church.
Navickas said she was hoping for a call from one of the leaders - a husband or his wife - to see how she was doing. She did receive a call - but it was to let her know about another member whose family member was ill and a corresponding raffle to raise money.
"It was then that bells and whistles went off in my head, and I took a step back," she said. "I realized the only time they ever asked how I was doing was when my checkbook was out."
It was then that Navickas knew she had to get out.
"In the bylaws, you have to go to the minister," she said. "But you only saw him at mealtime, and the other minister only for my checkbook."
Getting Out
Gaztambide wasn't so lucky. He was slowly drawn down into his group, slowly losing touch with his life.
He said the group would take new recruits and put them through programs to develop leadership skills as a way to increase growth. Once through the programs, one male leader and one female leader would be assigned their own cell.
"Everyone else was 'Christian babies.' I had been Christian for several years, but they said I needed to start over," he said. "I have a church back home, but they said, 'If you come to us, you can't go anywhere else. You are under OUR authority.'"
As the group pressed on, things began to get more serious. The leaders forced members to go on fasts, without food or water for long periods, he said.
"You began seeing things, seeing the world as a demon-infected place," Gaztambide said. "There was a demon for everything. If you had a cold, it was a demon. If you were angry, if you were depressed, it was a demon."
Finally, Gaztambide decided enough was enough.
"I just wound up getting out," he said. "I was noticing I was getting cut off from my family back home, from my culture. Whether you were black, Puerto Rican or Irish, they questioned your culture. One day, I woke up and said, "This is kind of messed up.'"
Gaztambide described two major confrontations that signaled the end of his involvement with the group.
"First, a senior leader, who was an undergrad, came to my dorm. He told me he knew why I was rebelling, that it was in the nature of Puerto Ricans," Gaztambide said, adding he then demanded the leader to leave his residence hall. "Later, I got a call from the pastor, and we had a two-hour argument. He told me to pull out a Bible, so I did. It talks about God's love a lot, so I told him I didn't feel he was being a loving person. I gave him the list of all the reasons, and you know what he did? He laughed. So I hung up.'
Pressure Affects Wide
Range of Students
"I don't think there's a college campus in the United States that hasn't had to deal with these groups," Blimling said. "They are either at the University or on the periphery of the University, trying to recruit students. I don't know how many there are, but with as diverse a community as we have at Rutgers, there are certainly a number of them."
Rev. Gregory Bezilla, the University's Episcopalian chaplain, stressed that these situations happen to many students, and that it isn't wrong to feel uncomfortable, even drawing on his own experience.
When Bezilla was a first-year student at Johns Hopkins University, it was an entirely new experience, he said.
"We had freedom we never had, then the reality of life in the dorm set in, with different cultures and backgrounds," he said.
Early on, Bezilla - who had no religious commitment at the time - began a conversation with his resident adviser. The conversation drifted toward religion with the adviser, who was an Evangelical Christian.
"I hinted at disinterest, and he would back off and give me space, but even that [conversation] me uneasy," Bezilla said, adding the resident adviser was both well-meaning and sincere.
It's important, he said, for students to understand their right to feel comfortable with their surroundings.
"In my thinking, [college] is a sacred space that every person on campus must respect," he said.
'The Aftereffects'
For Navickas and Gaztambide, leaving their respective groups worked out very differently.
"I'm stronger," Navickas said. "It's nice to have a group, but I don't need one. I complete myself."
Gaztambide, on the other hand, struggled with the aftereffects for almost two years.
"Even after I left the group, I was still very close-minded," he said. "Anyone who wasn't in our group - there were about seven or eight of us - was mistaken. We almost became a little high-pressure group ourselves."
He found that he couldn't interact in class and would have philosophical discussions over anything, even over such trivial issues as whether ketchup or mustard was better.
"It was trauma upon trauma," Gaztambide said. "It's taken a long while to detox. I had to find my center outside of the group and find my sense of self."
Both said if you think there might be a problem, there probably is one.
"The important thing is that anyone can fall into these groups," Navickas said. "You might say, 'Oh my God, I'm an idiot,' but you're not. You're just a human being who wants to belong."
Gazbamtide said that if the group asks things of you that are uncomfortable and hurtful, just leave.
"You have to understand it doesn't matter the way you follow the creed, but if the quality cuts you off from your life, you need to go," he said. "It might just be a difference in beliefs, but if they make you do things you don't want to, then pack your bags.
Tomorrow: University Organizations Talk About High Pressure Groups
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