For years, Michelle LeClair, 45, was a prominent member of the Church of Scientology. She claims to have donated an estimated $5 million to the Church and claims to have acted as a spokesperson when Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes had a baby. In her new memoir, Perfectly Clear, LeClair, a mother of four, says the Church targeted and humiliated her for being gay when she came out, ultimately leading to her defection. The Church denies her claims, telling ELLE.com they're "pure fiction."



I nervously approached a man at the Church of Scientology’s Celebrity Centre in Hollywood and handed him a piece of paper. “Excuse me, sir, I have a liability formula," I said. "Will you accept me back into the group?”

“You are disgusting!” he hissed back.

“I want to know what you’re doing to make up for this,” another man questioned, when I walked up to him. “Have you donated any money lately?”

I was 19 years old, a new member of Scientology, and wandering the Centre begging for forgiveness. The day prior, I’d told a Church ethics officer about a fling I'd had with my female high school friend. She showed me writings from L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology, who said that homosexuals are the lowest of the low.



"Oh God," I'd thought to myself. "I don’t want to be thought of as somebody bad or devious."

I decided I was not going to like girls anymore. But before I could be accepted back into the Church, the ethics officer said I needed 25 Scientology members to agree I should be forgiven for my actions.

I felt disgusting and unworthy. The Church is very good at breaking you down and building you back up, making you think, "I'm the bad one. I've done something wrong, but they're going to help me be better." And that's exactly what I thought Scientology was going to do.

Michelle with her mother in 1986. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

In 1987, my family moved from Norman, Oklahoma to Los Angeles, California before my junior year of high school. My mother got a job at a management company, where she gave seminars to health care professionals on how to more efficiently run the business side of their practices. When she took the job, she had no idea the company was affiliated with the Church of Scientology. We'd never even heard of L. Ron Hubbard.



Shortly after the move, she and my step-dad starting having marital issues. Her co-workers suggested they take a Scientology relationship course together. When she showed my step-dad the brochure for the class, he was like, "Do you not know what this is? This is a cult!" She didn't believe him.

Mom started spending her evenings volunteering her time at a small Church organization. Within three years, she had signed a billion year contract pledging her life to Scientology's Sea Organization, a group of the most dedicated Church members.

Michelle LeClair’s mom in a Sea Org uniform. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

As my mom got more involved with the Church, I entered my senior year of high school and had my first intimate experience with a woman, my best friend at the time. Coming from Oklahoma I didn’t know anybody who was gay, so I thought to myself, “Oh my God, I can’t tell anyone about this.”



After graduating high school in 1989, when I was 18, I got into a terrible car accident that I should not have survived.

My mother walked into my hospital room with a Scientology minister. He said, “Michelle, we believe that every situation that happens in life that is an illness or an accident stems from suppressive people. Maybe that means somebody is trying to stop you from doing something or maybe they’re putting you down. I want to help you find that suppressive person in your life, and I want to help you get out of that.”

I was questioning why I had survived the accident, and it seemed like Scientology had answers.



"The Church is very good at breaking you down and building you back up"

People new to Scientology are expected to attend "auditing sessions," in which they reveal secrets to a member of the Church. After my car accident, I started sessions called “life repair” that are similar to psychological counseling. I met with a Church member who said they would “handle” things in life that I felt needed to be repaired, like relationships and trauma.

I was asked questions while hooked up to an E-meter, a round device that has a needle which goes back and forth. Plugged into it are electrodes connected to round cans that you hold in your hands. It has a little tiny bit of energy that runs through your body. Scientologists believe it registers thoughts, much like a lie detector. They believe we have pain or painful thoughts below our conscious that we can't identify, but that that the E-meter can.

Michelle in 1989. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

“Michelle, tell me a current problem,” an auditor told me while I was hooked up.

“Well, I’m kind of thinking about somebody that I like," I said.



“Okay, who is it you like and why is it a problem?” the auditor asked.

“Well, it’s my best friend," I answered.



When I started to reveal details of my intimate experience, the auditor said: “How much do you like her? What did you do with her? Did it make you feel good or bad?”



I honestly felt like they were trying to help me. “I’m confused,” I confessed.



The next day, I was sent to the ethics department in the basement of the Celebrity Centre. I met with a young woman called an "ethics officer," who had me read L. Ron Hubbard’s stance on homosexuality.

"I could be homosexual — and not part of the Church — or I could be a heterosexual Scientologist."

In Dianetics [Editor’s Note: Dianetics is L. Ron Hubbard’s book on reaching a state of “Clear” or freedom from emotions not available to the conscious mind], he says homosexuals should be taken out of society.

The officer was like, “Look, we don’t want to take a stance on this, but read what L. Ron Hubbard says about homosexuals and we’ll let you make the decision.”

I felt I was being given a choice: I could be homosexual — and not part of the Church — or I could be a heterosexual Scientologist. I wanted so badly to be a Scientologist, so I decided I wouldn't explore my sexuality.

Michelle and her mother at an IAS (International Association of Scientologists) event in 2007. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

The ethics officer told me that in order to be accepted into the Church, I needed to be granted forgiveness for kissing my friend. They gave me a form that I needed 25 Scientologists to sign.

The "liability formula" listed on the form had a list of questions they read off to me: “What group were you pretending to be a part of? What did you do? What are you doing to make a change? What group are you choosing?” Parishioners were allowed to ask me detailed questions before signing.

Many Scientologists have done something similar during their time with the Church for their own transgressions.

Michelle with Sage and Savannah Courtesy Michelle LeClair

The next step was to do “a blow to the enemy” — that’s the phrase Scientologists use. The enemy in my case was homosexuality, and the blow to the enemy was to get a boyfriend. It felt sickening to sit there and think “OK, I have to go find a boyfriend, I have to physically be with a man.” I’m not saying there’s anything disgusting about men. But that was not where my attraction was, and I knew I was going to have to just deal with that.

I met my now ex-husband not a year later through friends. My mother said that in order for us to get married, he had to read a book by L. Ron Hubbard and take auditing classes. In 1994, we got married in a traditional Scientology wedding with vows written by L. Ron Hubbard.



I put off sex with him for as long as I could. Eventually, he asked if I'd ever had an intimate experience before, and I told him, "Yes, with a woman." He tried to turn it into a sexual fantasy. I reached out to the Church five times for help seeking a divorce from what had become a tumultuous marriage.

Michelle speaking at a Youth for Human Rights International event. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

In 2000, I agreed to have a child and my son, Sage, was born. And six years later, we adopted a little girl named Savannah.

By that time, I was running a multimillion dollar insurance business and had become one of the Church’s top donors. One of my clients was Kirstie Alley. I was the president of Youth for Human Rights, which partners with Scientology.

When Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes had a baby in 2006, I was chosen by the Church to talk to the media about silent birthing, a Scientology birthing practice they employed in which people present at delivery refrain from speaking. I'd also done a silent birth with my son, Sage.



Michelle at an event honoring her multi-million dollar donation to Scientology. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

In 2008, I told the Church I wouldn't donate another dime unless a divorce was granted. As the divorce process began, I realized I was pregnant with my twins, Jadon and London.

Around that same time, our neighbors threw a huge black-tie birthday party. I was seated next to a woman named Tena, an extremely successful music producer who was there with her wife. She was openly gay — and not a Scientologist. I thought to myself, “The Church has taught me think that this person is really bad and lowly but she is the most amazing woman!”

Tena and I ended up talking the whole evening and, looking back now, there was a definite spark. I thought to myself, “Why would they say this about homosexuals, what are they trying to keep me from?” But, still, I stuck with the Church.

About a year later, Tena and I were reintroduced through a mutual friend. We struck up a close friendship, but it didn't turn romantic for another year.

Michelle and Tena at Lake Placid in 2018. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

At the beginning of 2010, Tena and I were at Parkway Grill in Pasadena when she looked at me and said “What are we doing?” I knew I was in love with her. When a man touched me, I would get bad chills. But when she touched me, I got chills from my head to my toe, in the best way possible. She was living a very happy out life, which made me wonder what I was so scared of.

Tena knew about my relationship with the Church even before we started dating. I was very upfront about being a Scientologist, but I don’t think she really knew what that meant. She knew there was some church up on the hill above Highway 101 that she’d heard rumors of weird stuff about.

"When she touched me, I got chills from my head to my toe, in the best way possible."

But she made it very clear to me when we started our relationship that she was not interested in joining the Church. I thought, “She will eventually. I’ll introduce her over there. And I’m going to bring the church into the 21st century, and I’m going to be the rainbow flag-waving Scientologist!”

I had a very high profile within the Church, but I don’t think there was ever any part of them that was going to allow me to walk around holding the hand of the woman I loved and still claim I was a Scientologist.



Michelle and Tena. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

The summer of 2010, I got a call from my “field staff member" who was kind of like a mentor. She was like, “Are you having an affair with a woman?”

At the time, the only people I had told about Tena were my business associate and best friend, so the call caught me off guard. I said, “If you are asking if I am in love with a woman, I am.”

That call was a turning point. If my Scientology mentor was going to tell me my love was wrong, then I was going to choose Tena over the Church.

“If you are asking if I am in love with a woman, I am.”

A few months later, I was sitting in a booth with Tena at a restaurant in Pasadena for lunch. I had my head on her shoulder, and, as we stood up to leave, I noticed a fellow Church member watching us hold hands. He’d been in the Sea Organization, the same branch my mom belong to.

Michelle speaking at a Scientology event. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

I dropped Tena’s hand and she was like “Oh my God, what’s going on?” I said, “He just saw us!” She was like “What is wrong with this place!”

I was summoned to the Celebrity Centre, where an ethics officer told me the man had written a report claiming I was having inappropriate homosexual relations in public.

There was no official letter I sent severing ties with the Church, no phone call made. Just a lot of back and forth with people filing reports on me. By 2011, I had stopped all communication with the Church and ceased making donations.



Since my defection, four female Scientologists have come out to me as gay. I think all of them are still with the Church — but not public with their sexuality. I'm not aware of anyone who is openly living as gay in the Church.

Other than that, I haven’t heard from anyone else inside the Church. Of course, actress Leah Remini, who left Scientoloy in 2013, is amazing, she is extremely supportive. I ran into her on the airplane leaving New York City almost two years ago. I told her I was writing a book about my experience and she was like, “Speak your truth, I’ve got your back!”

From left, Tena, Michelle, and Michelle’s mother out for drinks. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

Today, Tena and I live right outside of Atlanta, Georgia. Every day is all about our kids, who we are raising Episcopalian, the religion I was baptized. We get up bright and early in the morning to get everybody off to school. I love making the kids lunches and doing their hair.

My mother also left the Church in 2013 and now lives down the block from us. She is extremely sorry and feels like my ability to explore my sexuality was stolen from me. I tell her every day that we’re here for a reason — that maybe I went through this to help somebody else and that makes it all worth it.

"Maybe I went through this to help somebody else and that makes it all worth it."

I look at my life right now and think “If I would have made different decisions down that path, would I be sitting here with my amazing children? Would I have met the love of my life?”

I still have pain inside. It’s hard not to tell my story without my eyes tearing up. But I don’t have regret. I’m done with the regret, I choose not to let pain define me, I choose love to help me rise above it all.

Tena, back left, and Michelle, center, with Michelle’s mom, the twins, Savannah, and Sage. Courtesy Michelle LeClair

In response, the Church of Scientology released a statement to ELLE.com calling LeClair's claims "pure fiction from a scam artist" and said that when she spoke on the silent birth issue, it was "as an individual" and not as a spokesperson for any celebrity.

The Church adds that, "any suggestion that Ms. LeClair’s problems had anything to do with her sexuality is false and her claims in that regard are fiction. Contrary to myths spread by Ms. LeClair and her publishers as they try to sell her book, the Church has no position on sexual orientation and does not take part in the public debate on this matter. The Church is on record as being opposed to discrimination of any sort, including on the basis of sexuality."

