In the fall of 2001, I was forced to live with my grandparents in Safford, Arizona, a sun-bleached desert outpost 3 hours outside anything resembling civilization.

They were the kind of rigid fundamentalists that shunned things like dancing and playing cards. As far as they were concerned, the world was evil, and I was to be kept separate from it.

They forced me to attend the now defunct Safford Christian School at Church at Safford, located just up the street from a polygamist-owned agricultural compound.

Every day, I’d think about the kids working the field and tell myself that things could be worse; and they could’ve, but that didn’t mean my situation was justified.

The high school was a single room with ancient window coolers struggling to keep up with the 100 degree heat. A volunteer handyman lined the walls with old scrap wood painted green, creating makeshift desks. Whenever I wrote, screws sticking out of the top would scrape against my elbow until my skin was raw and peeling.

We didn’t have classes. Instead, the school used homeschooling packets called PACE, designed to brainwash us into thinking the dinosaurs were still alive and the world was only 6,000 years old.

Every day before lunch Mr. Opp, our stern-faced overseer, spent an hour forcing us to listen to his so-called Bible Class. It was like watching a manic detective go over their corkboard–the kind with strands of yarn connecting magazine clippings and photographs. To this day, I believe the man was psychotic, and I’m proud to say that I told him that–along with many other things–directly to his face.

A few weeks into the ordeal, 9/11 happened, and he went into crisis mode. He started telling us that Muslims were going to take over the world and the Democrats were in on it. Somehow China, the Antichrist, and Communism were involved, but he was never able to tell us how. Instead, he wanted us to have faith. Only God has the answers.

He claimed to be an expert on both Islam and Communism, but he’d never read the Quran. It unsettled him, and he wasn’t comfortable reading Marx or Lenin either. He preferred to rely on cheap paperbacks he’d received through TBN mailing lists.

His refusal to research was nothing short of shocking, but over the years, I’ve come to learn that it defined his particular brand of extremism. Without it, there would be no faith. He’d know better.

Trump’s Congregation

School was only one small part of my torment. Every Sunday, Pastor Dale Clontz held two never-ending church services, one in the morning and one in the early evening. I was required to attend both, in sickness or in health.

I learned quite a bit about the local culture from watching the congregation before service. They favored country-western styles of clothing, like jackets with tassels, denim, big glasses, and bolo ties. There were at least three Jolenes, a Lurlene, and a Lolene–and they all spoke in a mock country accent which I fully believe to have been an affectation.

They’d gather in small clusters, slowly working the room while they gossiped. Anyone who’s been to a small town church has noticed the obsession with scandals. This person left the congregation. That man’s son came out of the closet. She divorced her husband. It was all about intrigue and shame. Someone had sinned–just like everyone sins–and it never failed to surprise them because they held their fellow churchgoers up to an unrealistic standard. True Christians were good people. They didn’t make those kinds of mistakes. They must’ve been secret sinners all along.

It didn’t take long before I realized that there were real consequences for stepping out of line. Since Church at Safford was one of the most popular churches in a very small town, they had the connections to make life hard for unbelievers. If you left the church or changed denominations, you could lose your family and friends. Some poor souls were even fired or evicted. Sons and daughters were disowned. The consensus was that it was sinful to associate with sinners. Therefore, cutting them off was the right thing to do, and since their sin was their choice, they deserved it.

Perhaps that was why parents were so strict with their children. They wanted to protect them. This became obvious once everyone found their seats and praise and worship started.

The crowd belted out song lyrics like amateur opera singers with a country twang. If a child fidgeted or failed to clap for the full 2-hour session, they’d get socked. People would stare at them funny, and their parents would be the subject of gossip after church.

The sermons were hellfire and brimstone, filled with incomprehensible Old English verses, out of context like inside jokes, and a series of admonishments meant to get a rise out of the congregation. Mostly the pastor shamed anyone who would even consider questioning their beliefs.

Having been raised Christian my whole life, I knew what it was like when my thoughts strayed. The second doubt took hold, an ugly black cloud would build up in my gut. It was terrifying. My body wouldn’t let me think for myself.

Each and every one of these people lived with that visceral sensation. Their beliefs were socially reinforced, and they knew that if they strayed, their lives would be destroyed. That is what it’s like to be kept in line in Trump country.

That effect carried over into other areas of society as well, and I was shocked to hear it. Church at Safford taught that disobeying the pastor was a sin. In fact, I was told that disobeying anyone the church placed above me went directly against scripture. That included Opp, who used corporal punishment; the teacher’s aides, who made fun of me to my peers; and, of course, the principle, who threatened to send her husband to my house to hurt my family.

Meanwhile, local law enforcement was protecting the Clontz clan and anyone associated with them. The sheriffs said it didn’t matter what they did; they could commit murder, and nothing would happen, because as far as they were concerned, it came down to a choice between their religion and the law. That’s the type of loyalty Trump receives from his followers.

To this day, I’m not fully aware of their crimes. I did see underage drinking and drug use, and it was permitted by the adults, but given the untimely death of the pastor’s son, I believe that it went even further than that. I just can’t prove it.

Unchecked power is a dangerous thing. Safford Christian School was the kind of place where the adults could run amok, and there was no way of knowing what occurred behind closed doors. There were whispers. I do know that Opp’s frequent mood swings led to altercations, and the conditions we were forced to work in were completely unacceptable–never mind the educational neglect or the fact that they were charging our families the price of three mortgages.

We all desperately needed a way out. But when students begged their parents to listen, they were chastised and accused of making things up. Nobody wanted to believe what was going on, because that would mean questioning the church. The school was well aware of that dynamic, and they took full advantage of it. They gaslighted us. When you’re a child that can be very unsettling.

The Cult of MAGA

It’s no secret that Safford’s style of extremism is at the heart of Trump’s base. Many MAGA followers see him as a messiah, compelled by divine right to create a Christian regime. He’s anointed in church services. Pastors scream his name from the pulpits. His brand of politics can never fully be divorced from bad religion.

Followers who haven’t bought into that ideology still share key traits with their fundamentalist counterparts–most notably their insistence on believing everything Trump says. Trump relies on deception. That is his game plan. He knows that everyone who follows him is going to assume he’s telling the truth. So he says whatever he wants to say. In fact, if you go back and research his statements, you’ll see nearly everything that comes out of his mouth is completely fabricated. That’s true for the debates, his press conferences, and his interviews, as well any other platform he’s used to communicate with the public.

The media has been meticulous in their efforts to catalog his lies. Everywhere you look, there’s fact-checkers struggling to keep up. Even unbiased sources like Politifact–which regularly reports on lies told by the left–have sounded the alarm on the former president.

He doesn’t do a very good job of covering his tracks. So long as you’re willing to type a simple phrase into Google, you can dispel nearly all of the myths he puts out. That extends beyond Trump into the greater MAGA movement. Their rhetoric is paper thin. Go to any subreddit or group run by his followers, and you’ll see a never-ending series of blatant lies–and they get away with it because nobody ever checks.

They can’t because whenever they start to question Trump, they’ll get that sickening feeling in the pit of their stomachs. They’ll think about all of the ways their lives could be destroyed, and they’ll take a step back. The mind has its own defense mechanisms to protect false beliefs. A truthful paragraph will turn into a word salad. Followers will have trouble processing events that conflict with their views. When someone confronts them, they’ll get angry and defensive causing them to shut down or walk away.

All of this is reinforced by a lifetime of indoctrination, particularly during the early formative years when our beliefs about the world tend to develop. The result is brainwashing so potent that even the thought of a Google search is too overwhelming.

How to Talk to Trump Supporters

During the 2000s, something unexpected rocked the foundations of the religious world. Members of the queer community started coming out of the closet en masse, blindsiding conservatives, who had no idea they were surrounded. Gay-straight alliances taught students to express themselves, giving them the courage to talk to their parents, and queer youth centers put a spotlight on the homeless teenagers who had been kicked out of their homes for living their truth.

Normally the church would handle this exactly how they’ve handled it in the past. They’d release propaganda and band together. Washington DC would follow suit, and the public would fall in line. They did try, but the people weren’t having it.

Unlike the rights movements in the 20th century, conservatives couldn’t lock their doors and close their shades. It wasn’t some person of a different color or gender marching down the street. It was their children, family, and friends telling them to love them–and it hit home, which is the secret.

MAGA philosophy is largely based around the idea of otherness. There’s us, the loyal Trump followers, and there’s those people–foreigners, commies, and libtards. They rally against their enemies, and they feed off of the idea that they are being oppressed.

For that reason, Trump supporters have to be approached by someone that doesn’t feel like an enemy. They’re most receptive to people they are close to. If you’re a stranger, don’t tell them your political affiliations. Leave it open. Make them feel like you’re open to hearing what they have to say, and try to develop a sense of understanding and trust.

They tend to believe that they are well-informed. What this really means is that they’ve read a lot. They have a specific view of the world, frequently reinforced by things they see, and it makes sense to them. Ask them questions about it. Take note of the gaps in their knowledge. Work to educate them without preaching to them. Don’t attack their beliefs and pick them apart. Inform.

A good example would be foreign policy. Many supporters believe that Trump has a commanding presence which allows him to pick up the phone and tell world leaders what to do. They say that if Kamala wins, she won’t be able to do that, and that would lead to World War III. When this comes up, tell them about treaties, diplomatic agreements, and NATO. But don’t let your opposition to their viewpoint show.

Once they realize that there’s more to learn outside of the propaganda, they’ll take an interest in what you’re saying, and they won’t have to feel like they’re betraying their beliefs.

This should all be done in a comfortable environment on a one-on-one basis. If there’s two or more people in the room, they’re more likely to close ranks. Social reinforcement is half the problem.

Many people have had success with these techniques, but not everyone is ready to listen, and it does take time. It’s important to recognize that hardcore Trump followers have undergone tried and true brainwashing. Some people take years to move past that, and many who do try never really succeed. Their beliefs will always stick around in one form or another.

It’s worth the effort to try and help, even if it means years of work. Let’s be clear, MAGA is not healthy. It’s more than a form of partisanship. It’s a content machine, designed to suck followers in and brainwash them. It can take over their lives. They might develop aggression towards nonbelievers, an unrealistic worldview, and an obsession with propaganda. More than a few believers have found themselves addicted to fake news. They may also lose touch with reality, isolate, and stop taking care of themselves. It’s best to intervene if things start to spin out of control.