The Shalim, commonly known as the "burqa cult," is one of the most isolated and denigrated sects in Israel, even among the country's ultra-Orthodox population. Under a guise of extreme religiosity, a small group known as the "Shalim" (shawls) sect based in Jerusalem and Beit Shemesh keeps away from the public sphere and the mainstream religious community. They wear burqa-like garments that they refer to as "shawls." Little is known about the inner workings of the cult, but now the local news outlet Yom Leyom has published a rare interview with R., a former member, who relates disturbing tales about how the cult indoctrinates young girls.
R., who was a member of the Shalim until a few years ago, told Yom Leyom that she had a typical childhood, but developed anxieties when her mother became ill. R. joined a psalms-reading group that the Shalim women had organized in Jerusalem, where she says she was "brainwashed."
"I got swept up in the Shalim cult and I went to school, where there were 2,000 girls enrolled, wearing a shawl, which was totally unacceptable there. There was a big fuss, and on the first day [I wore the shawl], a lot of girls came up to me to stare and make fun of me," R. said.
"The teacher ordered me to take off the shawl, but I didn't listen to her. I was sent to the principal, who yelled at me. But I was stubborn. With my parents, too. I became a kid who was rejected and made fun of. I got shouted at at school and in my family. My grandfather, who is an important rabbi, told my mother to forbid me from wearing the shawl.
"In the sixth grade, I stopped going to school. I joined a school run by women from the cult, where there were three girls studying in the leader's apartment. She was charismatic and showered me with praise," R. said.
The cult leader encouraged the girls to wear additional layers of clothing. R. says she would wear as many as 10.
"It was hot, but the leader said that every drop of sweat from modesty turned into dew for the resurrection – so we were happy to sweat."
According to R., the girls' "education" focused mainly on attacking "shiksas" [non-Jewish women].
"For the women in the cult, anyone who wasn't wrapped up like us was a 'goy.' Girls who wore short [skirts] were really a spiritual danger, and we were taught that every time we saw someone like that we had to spit on the ground three times. We would stand behind the window blinds, and every time we saw someone like that, we'd treat her to a cup of water thrown at her, at best. Sometimes we threw much less pleasant liquids at her," R. said.
R. also sustained physical damage from her time in the burqa cult.
"I preferred to protect my eyes [from immodesty], so I left my glasses at home to avoid seeing forbidden sights. After three months, I'd caused permanent damage to my sight," she said.
More young girls continued to join the cult's "school," and at 13 R. started teaching first-graders.
"The leader ordered me to tell them horror stories about a vision of a hot water heater in which a mother boiled her daughter because she was immodestly dressed, and other monstrous acts. I argued that the girls might have nightmares, and the leader told me there was no choice – we had to protect them and keep them pure and righteous.
"At the end of story hour, I saw the girls sitting there, frozen, with their faces as white as chalk. My heart broke at the sight of their little eyes full of fear. I knew that I'd traumatized them terribly, but I was sure I'd fulfilled my mission," R. said.
R. remained in the thrall of the burqa cult until her mother persuaded her to take an art class, which led to her being expelled from the cult. R. said she gave the interview to convince parents to be aware of their children's psychological state, and address any problems as soon as possible, before they are drawn to "bizarre places."
