Authors: Michael Price & Jacques Launay

Publication Journal: Secularism and Nonreligion, (7)1: 2018

A recent study explored whether secular congregations, like the Sunday Assembly, can provide the mental health benefits often associated with traditional religious gatherings, such as increased life satisfaction, reduced loneliness, and stronger social bonds. A typical Sunday Assembly service lasts about an hour and follows a structured format, typically occurring twice monthly. Services include an introductory speech, group singing of popular songs (often with a live band or choir), a poetry reading, a TED-style guest talk, and an inspirational personal story. Beyond the main services, the Sunday Assembly offers frequent small-group activities based on shared interests, allowing for more personal, face-to-face interactions.

The study involved 92 participants, primarily from the U.S. (53%) and the U.K. (41%), with smaller representation from Australia (6%) and Canada (1%). Most were White (91%), with smaller percentages identifying as Hispanic/Latino (5%) and other races (4%). Participants ranged in age from 23 to 73 (average age 45), with 58% identifying as women. Over six months, participants completed monthly online surveys measuring wellbeing, loneliness, and the number of close relationships, alongside their engagement in Sunday Assembly and other social activities.

Researchers found that participation in Sunday Assembly small-group activities positively impacted overall wellbeing, particularly among men. In contrast, regular attendance at Sunday services and participation in non-Sunday Assembly social activities (such as sports or volunteer groups) did not significantly correlate with improved wellbeing. In addition, Sunday Assembly participation had no significant effect on loneliness. Participants reported that 16% of their close relationships were with people they met through the Assembly, suggesting it serves as a meaningful source of social connection.

Informal socializing before and after services, like chatting over refreshments or helping with setup, emerged as key moments for forming friendships and fostering a sense of belonging. These unstructured interactions were identified by participants as more impactful than formal aspects of the service. However, one structured component, group singing, stood out as especially valuable for cultivating a sense of community.

The study suggests that secular communities like the Sunday Assembly can provide some of the social and emotional benefits similar to those found in religious congregations, particularly through direct, small group engagement. These groups may support the wellbeing of individuals who do not engage in traditional religious settings. Still, further research is needed to understand how such communities can be improved to provide greater emotional, physical, and practical benefits to members. Future studies should also examine how secular congregations can better engage diverse communities.

Thinking of your own experiences, have you found a sense of community or support in non-traditional settings, like a hobby group or secular-focused organization?

Authors: Darren M. Slade, Adrianna Smell, Elizabeth Wilson, Rebekah Drumsta

Publication Journal: Socio-Historical Examination of Religion and Ministry 5(1): 2023

A recent sociological study by the Global Center for Religious Research (GCRR), an organization that conducts academic research on the impact of religion, examines the prevalence of religious trauma in the United States. While most existing research on this topic has been qualitative—relying on case studies and interviews with small groups—qualitative methods offer valuable depth but do not provide a clear sense of how widespread a phenomenon is. This study uses quantitative methods—focusing on numerical data—to provide a better understanding of the extent of religious trauma.

For this study, researchers surveyed 1,581 U.S. adults aged 18 to 100. Of these, 51% identified as White, 25% as Black, and 10% as Hispanic/Latino. The sample included 46% women, 45% men, and 9% nonbinary individuals, while 81% identified as heterosexual and 16% as non-heterosexual, with the top three categories being bisexual, homosexual, and asexual.

The study used GCRR’s definition of religious trauma to guide its investigation: “Religious trauma results from an event, series of events, relationships, or circumstances within or connected to religious beliefs, practices, or structures that is experienced by an individual as overwhelming or disruptive and has lasting adverse effects on a person’s physical, mental, social, emotional, or spiritual well-being.”

To assess religious trauma, researchers examined six key manifestations: anxiety, stress, fear, depression, shame, and nightmares—many of which align with symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The study found that 27.7% of respondents self-identified as having experienced religious trauma in their lifetime, while 15% reported currently experiencing it. Stress and anxiety were the most common symptoms, affecting 16–17% of participants, while nearly 15% cited religion-related depression and fear, and 12–13% reported experiencing nightmares and shame. These symptoms were often linked to adverse religious experiences, such as feeling rejected by religious leaders or family members or feeling pressured to conceal one’s true identity in religious settings, with 66% of those who reported such experiences also experiencing religious trauma.

Based on these findings, researchers estimate that approximately one-third (27‒33%) of the U.S. population has experienced religious trauma in their lifetime, and that one in five Americans, or 20%, may currently be experiencing it. The study also suggests that many individuals may not recognize their anxiety, depression, or other symptoms as stemming from religious trauma. Additionally, stigma around religious trauma may prevent some from acknowledging their experiences. This is evidenced by the fact that 11% of respondents denied having religious trauma when explicitly asked, despite simultaneously endorsing multiple symptoms of it.

This research provides compelling evidence that religious trauma is both widespread and under-acknowledged. However, one major limitation is that the study was published in a journal that is produced by the same organization, the GCRR, that funded the research. which may have limited the extent of the peer review process. Despite this, it serves as a seminal starting point for further research to refine our understanding of religious trauma and validate (or challenge) these findings.

Reflection Question: Are you surprised by the possible prevalence of religious trauma revealed in this study? Why or why not?

We weren’t able to connect with the study authors for a Q&A, but we still wanted to explore this important topic. So instead, here’s a brief overview of the term “religious trauma”— its origins, evolution, and dissemination.

Who Initially Coined the Term?

While psychologists have long recognized that cult indoctrination and certain religious beliefs can negatively impact well-being, the concept of religious trauma was not officially identified until Dr. Marlene Winell, a psychologist specializing in religious and spiritual harm, introduced the term Religious Trauma Syndrome (RTS).

Winell first outlined RTS in her seminal book, Leaving the Fold: A Guide for Former Fundamentalists and Others Leaving Their Religion. She described RTS as a set of symptoms—including anxiety, depression, guilt, identity confusion, difficulty with decision-making, and more—that often overlap with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) symptoms but is more expansive than PTSD.

Although RTS is not officially recognized in the current DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders), which guides mental health diagnoses, it has gained growing recognition by therapists and laypeople.

How has the term evolved?

While many therapists and activists continue to use Religious Trauma Syndrome (RTS) to describe the phenomenon as a distinct syndrome, others have adopted the broader term Religious Trauma (RT), without the syndrome label, viewing it as part of the existing framework of PTSD and trauma research. Those who support the RTS model argue that it captures the unique psychological distress associated with negative religious experiences, which can encompass every area of one’s life. Others who favor the RT framework, such as the Global Center for Religious Research (GCRR) and the Religious Trauma Institute (RTI) suggest that religious trauma can be understood within the current definitions of PTSD, without requiring a separate diagnostic category. Both perspectives advocate for a trauma-informed approach that recognizes the diverse ways individuals experience and recover from religious harm. The debate continues among clinicians, reflecting broader discussions in the mental health field about how best to define and address trauma-related experiences.

How has the term entered the mainstream?

Although academic research on religious trauma has been expanding over the past decade, mainstream awareness of the term has grown largely due to:

• News Outlets: Articles in The New York Times, The New Republic, and other news outlets have explored religious trauma, exposing the topic to their readers.
• Social Media: Influencers and content creators on platforms like TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram have shared personal experiences of religious trauma, many of whom grew up in fundamentalist environments and later underwent a process of “deconstruction”—critically examining and often leaving behind elements or all of their faith. One example is Olivia Plath, whose deconstruction journey was captured via her participation in the reality TV series: Welcome to Plathville.

Authors: Julie J. Exline, Amy Przeworski, Emily K. Peterson, Margarid R. Turnamian,
Nick Stauner, & Alex Uzdavines

Publication Journal: Psychology of Religion and Spirituality, 13(3), 2021

This 2021 study dives into the unique challenges faced by transgender and gender-nonconforming (TGNC) individuals on the topic of religion and spirituality. The researchers surveyed 305 TGNC adults, mostly from North America and Western Europe, with an average age of about 31. Nearly 90% identified as Caucasian, and most lived in the United States. Participants shared a variety of gender identities, with 41.6% identifying as nonbinary, while others described themselves as transgender men, transgender women, gender fluid, genderqueer, agender, and more.

One of the standout findings is just how many TGNC individuals left organized religion. Over half (58%) of those who were once religious, primarily Christian, had since left their faith. Only 13.8% identified themselves as currently part of a religious community, with many shifting toward atheist, agnostic, or spiritual practices like Wicca or paganism. These rates of disaffiliation are significantly higher than what’s seen in the general population.

Interestingly, those who held onto their belief in God often didn’t feel that God disapproved of their gender identity, which may have made it easier to keep their faith. However, some did struggle with the idea that God might disapprove of them or that God caused and then condemned their gender identity, leading to greater emotional and spiritual conflict.

Rejection from religious communities was a common experience, with 54% of previously religious participants reporting feeling excluded or unwelcome. This rejection exacerbated gender minority stress (stressors that gender minorities experience due to stigma, prejudice, and violence) – like internalized transphobia or fear of social rejection. On top of that, many wrestled with identifying a sense of purpose and meaning in their lives, which is not uncommon for religious disaffiliates. Notably, lacking purpose and meaning was linked to greater gender minority stress. This suggests that fostering a sense of purpose and meaning may be a crucial factor in mitigating gender minority stress, particularly for individuals who have experienced rejection from religious communities

This study is novel in its focus on TGNC individuals, a group often overlooked in research on religion and spirituality (much of the religious research on demographic subpopulations emphasizes sexual orientation minorities rather than gender identity minorities). It sheds light on the dual challenge faced by TGNC individuals who may experience a double “coming out”— as TGNC and as a religious disaffiliate, as well as the associated rejection from one or both identities. By addressing the unique struggles tied to gender identity and religion, this research deepens our understanding of the psychological impacts of disaffiliation among this population. To close out this synthesis, here’s a question to consider: How has your gender identity or expression influenced your experience of religious belief or religious exit? Feel free to reply all to share your experience with the group!

Q&A with the Author: Dr. Julie Exline

Q: What motivated you to pursue this research?

A: As a psychologist of religion and spirituality, I’ve been studying spiritual struggles for many years. Over the past decade I’ve become especially interested in studying these struggles among people who identified as LGBTQIA+. Having been raised in a very conservative church, I saw firsthand how biblical interpretations and community norms often made these individuals feel judged and excluded. My colleague Amy Przeworski and her graduate students were beginning a large survey project on TGNC individuals and invited me to collaborate.

Q: Were there any findings you would highlight?

A: I found it striking to see the massive levels of religious exiting among our TGNC participants. For example, 206 participants reported that they were raised as Christians, but only 40 still held a Christian affiliation. These findings fit with other recent data suggesting that many people are leaving religion because of their religious communities’ stances on LGBTQ issues (see, e.g., https://baptistnews.com/article/i-asked-people-why-theyre-leaving-christianity-and-heres-what-i-heard/).

TGNC individuals reported more spiritual struggles if they felt a sense of disapproval or rejection from their religious communities or from God. These spiritual struggles, in turn, were linked with more gender minority stress.

Q: Were there any findings that surprised you?

A: As mentioned above, we had expected to see high levels of religious exiting but were still surprised by the sheer number of participants who had left religion.

Q: Given that most participants identified as Caucasian, do you think that that reflects the demographics of the TGNC community or community of religious disaffiliates? What are the challenges of engaging a more diverse constituency and some ways we can increase diversity in religious disaffiliation research?

A: The question about the demographics of TGNC individuals and religious disaffiliates is so important–but unfortunately a little outside my wheelhouse.

Clearly, it’s always important to try to move beyond samples that are overrepresented in psychology studies (e.g., majority white, U.S.-born, Christian, cisgender, with sexual orientations that are heteronormative). Sometimes this might require special, purposive sampling–and often the types of large, representative surveys that sociologists do or else more in-depth qualitative research looking at diverse groups of individuals, to get a sense of how their diverse identities might intersect.

Q: What were the main challenges/limitations you encountered when conducting your research?

A: It was challenging to recruit a large number of TGNC individuals. We wanted to ask so many questions that we needed to create a long survey, which may have been tiring for some participants. Given that so many of our participants had left religion, we would have liked to attract a larger sample of participants who still had some engagement with religion.

Q: How might future research build on your findings?

A: We would love to see (or do) multi-method studies where open-ended questions or interview methods could be used alongside numeric survey questions, so that we could get a richer sense of people’s spiritual struggles. It’s likely that many people had struggles that we couldn’t capture well with our limited set of survey questions.

We would also like to see more work on positive spiritual or religious experiences among TGNC individuals: What spiritual or religious beliefs, practices, or communities have they found

Author: Bethany Gull, Ph.D
Publication Journal: Symbolic Interaction, 45(1): 2021

Bethany Gull’s research delves into the transformative journeys of women leaving the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS). Drawn from interviews with 20 female participants recruited from a women-only Facebook group for former members of the LDS, Gull’s study outlines a five-stage model of religious disaffiliation from an identity development lens:

• Pre-Coming Out: where individuals first experience doubt and internal conflict
• Coming Out: when they cautiously share their shifting beliefs with select others
• Exploration: a period of experimentation with previously forbidden ideas and practices
• Reimagining Close Relationships: where they renegotiate ties with family and friends
• Integration: the final stage of synthesizing a cohesive sense of self.

The journey often begins with an internal awakening. Some women cited the LDS Church’s involvement in California’s Proposition 8, a campaign against same-sex marriage, as a catalyst for questioning their faith. Others struggled with the patriarchal structure of the church, feeling constrained by its gender roles and modesty standards. These early doubts led to a cautious process of coming out, where women shared small pieces of their changing beliefs with family members and gauged their reactions.

The Exploration stage brought experimentation and rebellion, often expressed through clothing choices that defied modesty norms, such as wearing tank tops, exposing what they humorously called “porn shoulders.” Some tried alcohol or coffee for the first time. Yet, these acts often came with lingering fears of judgment from former community members.

As they moved forward, relationships with family and friends were deeply affected. Some experienced rejection, while others stayed silent on topics like religion and politics to maintain peace. One woman’s father initially disowned her but they later reconciled, choosing a father-child relationship over religious differences. In the Reimagining stage, close relationships underwent a reckoning as ties that were previously built on shared values and beliefs lost their foundation.

Finally, the Integration stage marked a turning point where women fully embraced their new identities. This often involved public expressions of their transformed selves, such as posting about LGBTQ+ rights or critiques of the LDS Church on social media. Many described newfound freedoms, living authentically, and finding inner peace.

This research is meaningful not only for outlining the nuanced process of religious exit but also for highlighting the unique experiences of women who have been particularly impacted by religious patriarchal norms. It also provides a fresh perspective on the topic of religious disaffiliation by emphasizing an identity lens, acknowledging that a major aspect of leaving religion is losing and rebuilding identity.

To close out this synthesis, here’s a question to consider: if you were to break down your experience of religious exit into stages, what would they be? 

Q&A with the Author: Dr. Bethany Gull

Q: What motivated you to pursue this research?

A: Like many sociologists, I had a personal connection to the topic I was interested in studying. When I began this research, I had recently exited a high-cost religion, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a dramatic, life-altering experience for me because I had been a believing, practicing member of this faith nearly my entire life (minus a few crazy years in my teens) so this community and its beliefs were my entire world. I had married and started a family in this religion. Nearly all of my social connections were within my local congregation. Additionally, I lived in a city in which this faith was the dominant one, meaning that my connections through my children’s school and sports activities as well as other community connections were also frequently integrated into this faith. Thus, when I exited the faith, I lost my place in my social world in some very profound ways.

As I was exiting, however, I made connections with other recent exiters and became involved with a private Facebook group for doubting and disaffiliating LDS women. This quickly became my new go-to source for social, intellectual, and even existential community. I was also completing my education at this time and committing myself to a career as a sociologist, someone who studies social life at every level from one-on-one interactions to nation-state relationships. I was intrigued at the dynamics I saw within this Facebook group, with the way new members were socialized into a secular and, I should say, rather sacrilegious new worldview by the more established group members. I was touched at the ways these women showed up for one another and provided real-life, not just online, friendship and support. I was also fascinated by the different factors that drove these women to leave their former faith, some of which were so different from the ones that had motivated my own exit. And of course, I was struck at just how much readjustment and loss went along with the process of constructing one’s “authentic” self. Thus inspired, I embarked upon an interview-based study with members of this group which I referred to as “Outcast Women” in my published research.

Q: Were there any findings you would highlight?

A: The three main “gaps in the literature” this study sought to begin addressing were, one, to show that religious exit consisted of a process that proceeded in multiple steps and involved not only spiritual but social and self re-definition; two, I showed what this looked like in a particular religious community (Cisgender LDS women exiters); and finally, and perhaps most importantly from my perspective, was that because of strongly-enforced gender norms in many high-cost religions, religious exit would look differently for men than for women. Interestingly, the model I used was originally designed to explain gay men’s coming out identity transformation. I altered the stages slightly to better align with the experiemce of religious exit. Briefly, the five stages consisted of pre-coming out (identifying initial doubts), coming out to self and select others, exploration of alternatives, re-imagining close relationships, and identity synthesis (aligning the new identities into a cohesive self).

On gender differences in exiting, I highlighted the role of gender inequality within high-cost faiths, such as scriptural accounts that privileged men and sometimes demonized women, unequal access to funds and programs within the church, and a focus on women as mothers and nurturers to the exclusion of their other roles and characteristics.

Q: Were there any findings that surprised you?

A: I think one of the most surprising findings was the way this Facebook group acted as a resocialization tool for these women. Many of them had experienced relationship ruptures with family and friends as well as the loss of a guiding worldview. Their participation in this group allowed them to see, as many of them expressed to me, models of “life after exit” that offered hope that they would find a stable yet authentic way of being outside of their previous faith. I was also surprised at how embodied the interviewees’ experiences were. What I mean by that is the degree to which their bodies were at the core of their search for their authentic selves. Sexuality, modesty, and general affect were all key aspects of identity change these women discussed.

Q: What were the main challenges/limitations you encountered when conducting your research?

A: Probably the biggest limitation about this research is the sample size: 20 interviewees. This does not allow me to make generalizations about women who exit high-cost religion as a group. However, it does provide very vivid and discussion-furthering findings that can expand our understanding of women exiters.

Q: How might future research build on your findings?

A: I’d like to see future research focus more on comparing men’s and women’s religious exits: reasons for leaving religion, experiences in their former religion, and ways that they experienced the exit itself, to name a few. The fact is that most people who leave religion writ large do so without much difficulty or fanfare. Thus, another interesting area for research would be why it is so disruptive and life-altering for some people and not others.

Authors: Sarah Haider, Muhammed Syed, Hasan Tauha, Jason Mickevich
Publication Journal: Not applicable – self-published by Ex-Muslims of North America, 2021

A 2021 survey by Ex-Muslims of North America (EXMNA), in collaboration with George Mason University, provides a groundbreaking look at the lives of individuals who have left Islam in the U.S. and Canada. This first-of-its-kind study surveyed over 550 ex-Muslims, shedding light on their motivations for leaving Islam and the positive and negatives experiences associated with leaving.

Ex-Muslims in North America are predominantly young, well-educated, and diverse. Most are first-generation immigrants from regions like South Asia, the Middle East, and North Africa. A slight majority are men, and many are under 35, with nearly 20% identifying as LGBTQ+. Educationally, 82% hold at least a bachelor’s degree, often in STEM fields. Politically, most identify as progressive, reflecting broader trends among non-religious individuals in the West. Many were devout and active in their religious communities before leaving Islam.

The process of leaving Islam is gradual, happening over the course of years, but often starting before age 22. Key motivators include human rights concerns, particularly conflicts with women’s and LGBTQ+ rights. Other reasons include contradictions between Islam and science and inconsistencies in religious teachings, mentioned by more than three-quarters of participants. These findings show that leaving Islam is often driven by ethical and intellectual conflicts rather than social disconnection or personal circumstances.

Leaving Islam often comes with significant social and familial challenges. Over two-thirds of respondents reported concealing their loss of faith from all or some individuals, particularly family, to protect relationships or reputations. Those who are partially or fully open about their atheism frequently face consequences like emotional manipulation, loss of friendships, loss of financial support, threats of violence, and verbal and physical abuse. These risks are higher for those who are fully open, which may contribute to many remaining partially “closeted”. Most also struggle to adjust to previously prohibited activities, like dressing freely or drinking alcohol.

Despite the challenges, many ex-Muslims reported experiencing a greater sense of freedom, increased happiness, and the ability to live more authentic lives. Their journeys are often marked by resilience and the pursuit of truth.

This survey amplifies the voices of an often-overlooked community, challenging stereotypes and highlighting the pursuit of integrity and truth that defines many ex-Muslims’ journeys. Such studies are vital for raising awareness, fostering understanding, and including ex-Muslims in broader conversations about religious disaffiliation.

Author: Matthew May, PhD
Publication Journal: Society and Mental Health, 8(3): 2018

Matthew May’s study explores how different types of religious affiliation—or disaffiliation—correlate with depressive symptoms over time. Research suggests that only about one-third of people who consider leaving a religion actually do. What happens to the other two-thirds?

Using data from 2006-2012 derived from the PALS study, which tracks 2,610 American adults, May identifies distinct mental health patterns across four groups:

1. Those who remain active in religion
2. Those who leave religion
3. Those who stay despite considering leaving
4. Those who never identified as religious.

One of May’s key observations is the heightened mental health risk for those who seriously consider leaving their religion but ultimately remain, a group he calls “stayers.” Stayers reported higher levels of depressive symptoms over time compared to individuals who either never considered leaving (stable affiliate), who did leave, or who never identified as religious. In fact, while stayers experienced a slight increase in depressive symptoms, stable affiliates and those who left reported a decrease. These findings suggest that the decision to stay within a religious institution, even amid doubts or conflicting beliefs, may create an inner conflict that negatively impacts mental health.

The data suggest that religious doubt and a sense of religious disconnection may overshadow the traditional mental health benefits often associated with religious affiliation. These benefits can include a sense of stability and purpose, health-enhancing lifestyle choices (such as abstinence from substances), and social-emotional support. May’s research aligns with the idea that the stress of internal conflict, especially when it concerns one’s values or beliefs, can diminish the mental health support that religion is traditionally thought to provide.

These insights underscore the importance of exploring the complex intersection of identity, belief, and mental well-being in the context of religious affiliation and disaffiliation. Future research could investigate these effects further, examining how factors like specific religious traditions and community dynamics influence mental health outcomes, as well as the motivations behind choosing to stay or leave religious communities.

Q&A with the Author: Dr. Matthew May

Q: What motivated you to pursue this research?

A: My own experience growing up in a conservative Protestant environment (and never feeling closely connected with the beliefs or community that came with that environment) sparked my initial interest in religious doubt. After looking at the existing research on religious doubt and mental health, it was clear there were many areas for additional research. One such area was the need for longitudinal data on people with religious doubts. The PALS dataset presented an opportunity to examine the impact of religious doubt on mental health over time, but it also presented an opportunity to compare people who drop out of religion altogether and people who stay.

Q: Were there any findings you would highlight?

A: The key finding in my paper is that an (in)congruence between beliefs and affiliation is closely tied to mental well-being. When individuals consider dropping out of religion, they generally experience better mental health outcomes when they leave (compared to those who stay). People who never consider dropping out of religion also tend to have better mental health outcomes than people who consider dropping out but decide to stay. It is the incongruence between belief (i.e., thinking about dropping out) and affiliation (staying) that creates the worst health outcomes on the measures available in the PALS dataset (feelings of depression, hopelessness, and worthlessness).

Q: Were there any findings that surprised you?

A: My findings are largely consistent with prior research showing a curvilinear relationship between religion and mental health. That is, the most religious are generally fine. The least religious are generally fine. And the people in the middle tend to have the worst health outcomes. Of course, earlier studies were cross-sectional and only focused on religious doubt. My study is longitudinal and focuses on behaviors (staying v. leaving), yet the pattern is largely the same.

Q: What were the main challenges/limitations you encountered when conducting your research?

A: There are few longitudinal studies with sufficient data on religion. The PALS dataset is not without its own limitations: a 6 year gap between waves, a predominantly Christian sample, and limited measures of mental health. Nevertheless, it was/is the best dataset available to answer my research question, and the research is an important part of the growing body of research on religion and well-being generally, and religious disaffiliation and mental health, more specifically.

Q: How might future research build on your findings?

A: We need more qualitative research on the “why?” behind my findings. Do people who stay experience worse mental health outcomes because of their own doubts? Are they treated differently in their religious communities? Do people who leave find social connections in new communities that may help improve their mental health? Will the experiences of women and men who drop out of religion altogether improve as the number of unaffiliated Americans continues to grow? How might the experiences of people in non-Christian groups differ? There is limited quantitative data available to answer these questions, but before a large survey can even address these questions, we need more qualitative work to understand the underlying mechanisms, and I hope to make this the focus of my future research.

Author(s): Yossi Levi-Belz & Shachar Yalon
Publication Journal: European Journal of Psychotraumatology (14,1): 2023

Introduction & purpose

• Disaffiliation from/exiting ultra-Orthodox communities is a deeply challenging process, often marked by traumatic experiences, culture shock, loss of worldview, and social disconnection.
• This study aimed to understand the psychological distress, specifically depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and suicidal thoughts, experienced by ex-ultra-Orthodox individuals.

Methods

• A sample of 755 participants (aged 19-54) who left ultra-Orthodox Jewish communities in Israel completed self-report questionnaires as well as widely used scales to measure depression, PTSD, anxiety, and suicidal ideation.
• Recruitment was conducted through Hillel, a support organization for ex-ultra-Orthodox individuals in Israel.

Results

• Nearly half (45.9%) of participants showed symptoms consistent with major depressive disorder, 46.7% met PTSD criteria, 34.5% experienced suicidal ideation within the past year, and 27.1% had high levels of anxiety.
• Factors contributing to increased distress included negative past life events, reason(s) for disaffiliation, and the length of the disaffiliation process.

Discussion & implications

• Ex-ultra-Orthodox individuals experience high levels of psychological pain, exacerbated by traumatic disaffiliation experiences and lack of social support.
• The longer and more traumatic the disaffiliation experience, the more severe the mental health struggles, highlighting the need for ongoing psychological support.
• This is one of the first published research studies that used quantitative data to suggest that disaffiliation from a fundamentalist religious community was associated with PTSD symptoms, providing support for religious trauma theory. However, this study did not measure if the PTSD symptoms were related to the process of disaffiliation, traumatic religious experiences prior to disaffiliation, or unrelated traumatic experiences (e.g. a car accident).
• The findings suggest that social interventions, such as increased interpersonal support, may alleviate distress among these disaffiliates. Also, mental health interventions that are typically used to treat PTSD, such as cognitive processing therapy, can be useful to reduce PTSD symptoms.

Q&A with the Author: Dr. Yossi Levi-Belz

Q: What motivated you to pursue this research?

A: I’ve long been interested in the psychological impact of extreme life transitions, and the disaffiliation from ultra-Orthodox communities in Israel represents one such profound shift. The unique cultural, social, and emotional struggles faced by individuals leaving these communities are often understudied, despite the significant mental health risks involved. I wanted to shed light on this population’s mental health challenges, especially in relation to depression, PTSD, and suicidal ideation.

Q: Were there any findings you would highlight?

A: One of the key findings was the extremely high prevalence of both PTSD and depression among the ex-ultra-Orthodox individuals, with almost half the sample meeting the criteria for major depressive disorder and PTSD. Additionally, over a third of the participants reported suicidal ideation within the past year, which is quite alarming.

Q: Were there any findings that surprised you?

A: What surprised me most was the significant role that traumatic life events prior to and during the disaffiliation process played in exacerbating distress levels. We knew that leaving the community was challenging, but the depth of mental pain, particularly tied to past trauma, was more intense than anticipated.

Q: What were the main challenges/limitations you encountered when conducting your research?

A: One of the main challenges was the retrospective nature of the data collection, which relied on self-reporting. This approach can introduce biases such as mood-dependent recall. Additionally, since we conducted the study among members of the Israel Hillel organization, it’s possible that the findings may not fully represent all ex-ultra-Orthodox individuals.

Q: How might future research build on or challenge your findings?

A: Future research should aim to include longitudinal studies that can track mental health trajectories over time, rather than relying on cross-sectional data. There’s also an opportunity to explore how different types of disaffiliation experiences—such as spontaneous versus strategic—affect long-term mental health outcomes. Further research should also consider developing tailored interventions to support this vulnerable population.