In this bizarre religion, the aliens who will save our planet can’t decide whether they’re feminist
Raëlism has a strange history, and an even stranger leader
Only the six Pink Angels were permitted to sexually pleasure their alien makers, no one else. The women were denoted by their rapturous beauty and tiny pink wings affixed to their necklaces. Since 1998, they had taken vows of earthly celibacy, promising to remain virginal until they met their creators, who were four feet tall with green skin.
Their prophet told them so. That prophet, Raël, was born Claude Vorilhon in 1946. Twenty-seven years later, the French sports car journalist was abducted by aliens at a volcanic crater near Auvergne, France. At first, the small green men asked him to spread messages of peace, love, and unity. Followers of Raëlism would meet in orgiastic parties of nudity and experimentation not unlike the popular notion of Woodstock. Gender was an illusion, sexuality was fluid, all beings were equal.
Then the millennium approached, along with a new prophecy. Soon, the Pink Angels were posing for Playboy.
Raëlism is considered the largest UFO religion in the world. (Scientology is generally categorized under the “ancient astronaut” belief set.) In 2006, more than 60,000 people had been baptized. More recently, reports estimate church membership closer to 100,000, thanks in no small part to marketing. In the 1970s, it may have championed free love for all, but by the 2000s, boobs were bank. Over time, it seemed a subtle shift, at least as far as cults go, but Raëlism’s stance on feminism, sex positivity, and women’s empowerment remains muddled at best.
After Raël was beamed up to a spaceship in 1973, he completed his first scripture, The Book Which Tells the Truth. He claimed he was chosen as a conduit to translate messages from the aliens, otherwise known as the Elohim, humanoid beings from a faraway planet. Being 25,000 years more advanced in science and technology, the Elohim actually created human life in their laboratories and planted their specimens on Earth. All of the great prophets — Jesus, Mohammed, and now Raël — were actually half-Elohim, after male aliens impregnated chosen human women. Or so the teachings went.
Raël named the religion after himself and modeled its leadership and doctrines after the Catholic church, while variously espousing squarely anti-Catholic positions. Beneath Raël, who functioned as a kind of pope, his religion appointed bishops and priests. Only, Raëlians are not monotheistic; their creators are many. And intelligent design took the form of scientific knowledge and superior technology. (Later, Raëlism claimed that advancements in cloning were proof of Elohim intervention, a vehicle for mind transfer and infinite reincarnation.) But the movement first took off thanks to a 1974 conference in Paris, where Raël hosted roughly 2,000 people and preached of his alien encounter. His timely messages of world peace and sensual permissiveness appealed to a tuned-in audience the world over. Raël’s books have since been published in over 25 languages.
Over time, Raël argued in these prophecies, the pristine human gene pool had clouded. It was his job to help purify it. In the beginning, that meant treating sex only for pleasure, not procreation, as designer cloning would soon eliminate the need for traditional childbearing. In this view, the anatomical differences between man and woman were merely designed for one form of sexual pleasure, but otherwise, gender was irrelevant. Instead, Raël taught “sex unity,” or erotic plurality between and among all genders. His followers planned frequent seminars wherein Raëlians would abandon their preconceived sexual preferences and monogamous boundaries. Stretching one’s libido was an intellectual exercise for Raëlians, according to the Daily Dot’s “2 Girls 1 Podcast,” thought to replenish brain cells, practice self-actualization, and potentially communicate with the Elohim directly. This “sexual meditation” would become a core element of the religion.
Despite a professed indifference to gender, Raëlian women were upheld as enlightened lovers and playthings; thus, they often dressed seductively and played the coquette. At one “awakening seminar,” a “much admired” teenager attended meetings in a tulle skirt while twirling her ponytail and licking lollipops, according to sociologist Susan J. Palmer’s Moon Sisters, Krishna Mothers, Rajneesh Lovers: Women’s Roles in New Religions (1994). Raël encouraged male followers to be more like women, and actually cultivate feminine qualities. Raël himself has been described as soft-spoken and effeminate, dancing and singing at events, and dressing in flowing clothes and long hair, which acted as antennae to commune with alien beings.
Yet as the religion grew and attracted New Age pansexuals from Canada to South Korea to Australia, Raël apparently only ever entered into long-term heterosexual relationships. He has been married three times, most recently in the late 1990s to a beautiful 16-year-old named Sophie de Niverville, reportedly with her mother’s permission. Palmer interviewed Raël after the pair had amicably divorced in the year 2000:
“People see her beauty, but there is so much more inside!” he said. “What I love in life is to play — any kind of play — and she is so good to play any kind of game. When I met her, we played chess….When you are with beautiful women, when you [start] to be old, it becomes boring, but growing old with an intelligent woman is much more interesting!…And she is so feminine, and I love femininity in woman. Ah, Sophie! I could talk about her all day!”
Later, in 2001, Sophie recalled their time together fondly. “He’s always on the go, always rushing, he loves to race, to travel,” she said, continuing, “The racehorse owners have found that the horse is happier if he has the same rabbit in his stable, so when the horse travels to different races, he always has his little rabbit waiting for him in his stall at the end of the day. So, I am like that little rabbit for Raël, waiting for him in his stall so he is happy.”
Three years earlier, Raël, then 52 years old, had established the religion’s order of Angels. An alien vision insisted Raël gather his most beautiful female followers into their own caucus to act as hostesses in preparation for the coming of their alien creators. After his announcement, women submitted applications by the dozens. Raël required attached headshots. According to his interpretation of the Elohim message, “We prefer to be surrounded by individuals of great beauty corresponding to the absolutely perfect original models of the different races that we once created on earth….[P]hysical flaws are all due to the errors of generations past, which have damaged our genetic code.” By 1999, Raël had selected 165 women to join the lower order of White Angels, whose responsibility was to act as missionaries and welcome agents, as well as “make Raël comfortable.” The six elite Pink Angels followed strict diets in order to maintain genetic purity and were permitted sex with no humans — other than their fellow Pink Angels and Raël who was, of course, half-Elohim.
One Angel admitted her hesitation in an interview:
“At first I was afraid that being an Angel I would be more like my mother and grandmother who are Catholics, that my job would be to wait on the men all the time, to cook dinner, arrange parties,” she said. “But then I realized that when the Elohim come, it is only women allowed to go into the Embassy to speak with them, and the whole world will depend on Raël’s Angels for information. We will be like ambassadors or PR people. We will learn so much!”
In September of 2000, Raëlism again made headlines when eight Angels appeared at a press conference and volunteered as surrogates for Raël’s cloning venture, a new company called Clonaid, with a mission to foster eternal life. Three years later, the company announced it had successfully cloned the world’s first human. The press erupted, but Clonaid failed to present proof.
In October of 2004, Raël posed with his Pink Angels in an issue of Playboy.
Since its leader’s first abduction, Raëlism has caromed between overt objectification and convenient empowerment of women. It has campaigned against female genital mutilation. It has appointed women to powerful leadership positions as clergy and organizers; Clonaid named chemist Brigitte Boisselier as its chief executive, but then in 2004, Raël commented on Boisselier’s physical appearance, “All our women try to do their best, even if they are not beautiful. Like Brigitte here, she does her best to look beautiful, but she is not so young anymore. But she does her best.”
Even in its early days of sexual liberation, it tethered the female body to an ideal. Amid the world’s fascination and fear of the coming millennium, it occupied women’s bodies as vessels for scientific advancement. Today, a pink website called raelsgirls.com encourages women (only) to embrace sex work. As an atheistic religion that celebrates unbridled sexual exploration, Raëlism can proudly exclaim, “No God, No Guilt!”
In 2014, the church organized a march through New York City in which dozens of women bared their breasts. Go Topless Day went viral. It appeared to advocate a worthy cause: desexualizing the female body and thus creating safer public environments for women. But few media outlets connected that the event was sponsored by a UFO church. Raëlian membership that year reached 90,000.
