Troublemaker: Surviving Hollywood and Scientology

by Leah Remini

  I had a community of people supporting me and my family on social media, in the press, in emails—small gestures that meant everything. But my publicist instructed me not to talk to the media because she didn’t want me to be known as “the person who left the church.” But I also didn’t want to be known as “the person who said ‘no comment.’ ” I was definitely caught between being the girl who speaks out and the girl who just wants to work and be known for that work.

  I did a few interviews where I tried to explain my position while not going into too much detail. But anything I said was blown out of proportion to make a headline. The church’s dismissals and bullying of those who had left before me and spoken out made it harder and harder to remain silent. I called my publicist daily to ask, “Please, can I tell the media the truth and have the church challenge and debate me, instead of defenseless people?”

  “Of course you could,” my publicist always responded. “But why?”

  The why was—somebody needs to stand up for those who can’t. But I understood what my rep was saying; I was still angry, confused, and experiencing myriad emotions I couldn’t make sense of. I didn’t yet know how to tell my story from a place of strength as opposed to one of just pain and anger.

  Certainly, I couldn’t do that on a five-minute segment on Ellen. But while I was promoting the seventeenth season of Dancing with the Stars, which I competed in right after I left the church, that’s all people wanted to talk to me about. Instead of fighting it, I chose to deal with it in a way that sent a message but wasn’t too in-your-face.

  In the first week of the ABC show, during a filmed rehearsal with my partner, Tony Dovolani, I made the following statement, which was picked up by various media outlets all over the world. “I’m going through a personal and big change for me and my family,” I said. “The church is looking for me to fail so they can say to their parishioners, ‘See what happens when you leave the church?’ They’re waiting for me to fail.”

  In response to my comment, the church issued its own to Good Morning America: “We know this may come as a surprise to someone as self-absorbed as Ms. Remini, but we could care less if she wins or loses on Dancing with the Stars.”

  That was the on-air drama. There was so much more going on, however, off camera, including Tony being surveilled and followed by a car for two weeks. Maksim Chmerkovskiy, Kirstie’s dance partner and friend from when she was on the show, was given the cold shoulder by Kirstie when she found out he had been at my house. Maks didn’t take it too hard. “I’m Jewish,” Maks said. “I don’t really believe in science fiction, but whatever. It’s sad that we’ve gone through so much together, and I feel like I’ve helped her. And this is where we’re at now. But I think the world of her, and I wish her the best.”

  Kirstie also went on The Howard Stern Show, where she said that I “was very critical” after leaving Scientology. Then she made a completely disingenuous comment: “There’s nothing going on, and there was nothing going on for years,” she said. “I didn’t shun her, but if a lot of people are rejecting you, at some point you gotta ask, ‘What am I doing?’ I mean, that’s what I would have asked myself.”

  When actor and former Scientologist Jason Beghe, whom I had met and befriended in acting class, was asked in an interview if he thought Scientology wanted me to fail, he responded, “It’s not just that they want you to fail. It’s kind of like they want you to die.”

  Tony Dovolani had no idea what he was getting himself into when he found out that he was getting me as a partner for Dancing with the Stars.

  With only few exceptions, over the seasons, Tony was known for getting the short end of the stick when it came to dancing partners. Perhaps for this very reason I had requested him as a partner (that and the fact that Angelo approved of him); I just knew he would be right for me. I couldn’t see myself dancing with anyone else. When they paired us, I remember thinking, This poor guy, he is in for a shitstorm.

  Tony wasn’t familiar with the Church of Scientology. So I filled him in a little. But he learned more by observing me than by what I shared with him. My family and I had just left the church and I was dealing with the fallout, including the media attention that came with it. It was a lot to cope with. Our lives had changed in an instant. But I had made the decision to do this show and I didn’t want to fail, despite the fact that I had NO prior dance experience. Not even The Nutcracker as a kid.

  Tony’s job is difficult. He has to become all things to a perfect stranger from day one. In a normal season, all he might have to deal with is a person’s insecurities with dancing, but with me, he not only had to hold my hand through dances, but he had to deal with a whole other set of issues. He had to maneuver through my defenses, through my tears, my anxieties and insecurities on a daily basis. He was there for me when I needed him, when my friends from the church had deserted my family and me. If a workday was supposed to be four hours, Tony gave me twelve. He never said, “No, I can’t rehearse any more” or “No, I can’t talk to you anymore about this.” I never once heard him say, “No, and I can’t listen to one more story about your former life.” It was always and still is, “Whatever you need” and “I am here for you.” And he and his family continue to be there for me and my family.

  After every show, competitors were required go through a press line with more than a dozen media outlets. Tony literally and figuratively held my hand through the first weeks of the show. He knew how I was always on the verge of tears when I was asked a question about Scientology and he would always say, “Come on, man, this woman just danced her ass off, talk about that.” He did this repeatedly.

  When the producers pushed him to get me to talk about leaving the church during televised rehearsals, he turned them down. He stood up to everyone on my behalf. No matter who it was or what it was for.

  I wish they awarded mirror balls for being an extraordinarily loyal friend, protector, and therapist. Because Tony would certainly win it, all while attempting to teaching me a cha-cha. For that I will always be indebted to him.

  A few weeks into Dancing with the Stars, Tony came to me and said, “Look, the producers would like you to at least consider doing something with the Scientology subject.” Up until this point, Tony and the show’s producer had done a great job of protecting me from the constant questions from the press line as well as on the show. But for the Most Memorable Year show, where contestants create dances out of the biggest moments in their lives, the producers wanted to get what was really going on in my life, and that was a big part of it.

  They asked if I would consider the subject of leaving Scientology as the inspiration for the dance. I didn’t want to keep saying no to them. It was show business, after all, and I felt I had to give them something. So I chose to dance to Katy Perry’s “Roar.”

  Looking at the pop song’s lyrics, I thought, Yes, this is how I felt so many times in the church.

  You held me down, but I got up

  Get ready ’cause I’ve had enough

  I see it all, I see it now…

  I shared my idea with Tony, who loved it, as did the producers. Tony worked overtime choreographing a dance that showed me as a puppet and him as the “Church of Hypocrisy” pulling my strings, controlling me. I broke down several times during the rehearsal. I was plagued by doubt. Were people going to see this as a sad attempt for publicity? Would they get the pain involved in this? Each time I started to cry, Tony would pull me outside, away from the cameras (which was against the rules) to shield me from being filmed. Everyone on the show knew how difficult this was for me and offered me nothing but support. Sometimes the producers stopped the cameras on their own. Cheryl Burke would leave her rehearsal room with Jack Osbourne anytime they saw me and Tony go outside to talk. They gave up precious time from their own rehearsal just to be there for me. That is why I fell in love with Tony, Cheryl, Jack, and the show as a whole. It comforted me and took care of
me in ways that I had never imagined.

  The day of the Most Memorable Year show, I was nervous. But I told myself that people would understand what I was doing and the world would see it as my “roar.”

  That night, in front of the audience and my family, Tony and I danced our hearts out. Unfortunately, the judges didn’t think much of the dance, giving Tony and me the low score of the evening. Upon hearing this I started to cry, but Tony grabbed my shoulders and said, “Don’t you do that. Don’t let them see you like that. You were great.” As always, Tony had my back.

  I couldn’t have gotten as far as I did in DWTS if I hadn’t had the guts to do the show in the first place. I had been asked to do the show in a previous season and had declined. I eventually agreed to do DWTS because I didn’t want to be scared to go out of my comfort zone; I didn’t want to care about what people thought of me anymore; I didn’t want to be judged for my decisions. The truth is I was scared to do a live show—a live show that I had to dance in! But I didn’t want to shrink from the public eye. I wanted to get myself out there, and that’s exactly what I did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  RIGHT AFTER I LEFT THE church, my first thought was: Bad things are going to happen to me. Even though bad things had been happening to me in the church—and for a long time—I still couldn’t shake a thought process of personal cause and effect that had been hammered into me ever since my mother sat Nicole and me down at our kitchen table in Bensonhurst as kids and talked to us about the precepts from her communication course.

  As an antidote to my ruminating, I actively filled my head with a different kind of idea. I looked at everything I used, from Post-its to shampoo, and reasoned that somehow these companies have found a way to be successful without Scientology. People—happy, well-off, fulfilled people—walked by me every day who didn’t use LRH technology.

  After thinking a certain way, and being told what to think based on strict policy for more than thirty years, learning to think for myself and make my own choices did not come easily, nor did it happen overnight. Now, more than two years after cutting ties with the church, I’m still trying to figure things out. This mindset, which had been drilled into me for decades, is not an easy thing to “unlearn.” With practically every decision I made when I first left (and still even now), I had to ask myself Is that what you really think, or what a Scientologist would think?

  During this confusing early period, I sometimes felt adrift, but I had one figure I kept front and center in my mind to keep from going crazy: Nicole Kidman.

  That’s right, Tom Cruise’s ex was my guardian angel. Although I never met her or attempted to meet her, I thought about her a lot. While I stared at the dark ceiling at night, unable to sleep, I would say to myself, “Remember Nicole Kidman. She was declared an SP and left the church, and she’s doing okay. Her career is still going, and she has a husband and family…Just remember Nicole Kidman. She left and she’s okay…”

  And while the many friends I had in the church turned their backs on me, a number of those who had already left offered me comfort and solace.

  My friend Paul Haggis, the movie director and former longtime Scientologist, sent me a note, part of which read:

  But here is what I want you to know; I will do anything for you—anything you need. Privately or very publicly. Decide what that is, what you need of me, and ask and I will just say yes.

  The fact that you refused to disconnect [from me] truly touched me. You were the only one. Which says a lot about you and even more about the good people who used to be our mutual friends. You are a better example of a scientologist than they ever were, because you truly applied your code of honor, and the danger formula, both of which they are afraid to do honestly.

  Over the past few years I’ve read this letter hundreds of times to remind myself that I could just possibly be a good person at times. When Paul left the church and became the subject of a New Yorker magazine article and Lawrence Wright’s book Going Clear, he took and continues to take a lot of heat from the church and its members. It was very public. One of the reasons Paul left the church was because of the offensive manner in which they view homosexuality. Two of Paul’s daughters are gay, and he knew that he could no longer participate in a religion that discounted his own children. I, like him, was disgusted by the church’s position and as a result I refused to disconnect from him despite the fact that I had been told to do so. Paul was and remains a friend.

  “I’m so happy for you. You’re about to experience life for the first time,” Jason Beghe said to me a few weeks after I had left. “It’s like Christmas when you’re a kid, magical and amazing.”

  The last time I saw Jason was at CC. I said, “Hi, baby, whatcha doin’?” Naturally, I meant course-wise or auditing-wise, but he answered: “Leaving.” I was confused, so I asked him what he meant.

  “Leaving the church,” he said.

  I still didn’t get it.

  “CC?”

  “No, the whole thing, Kitten.”

  The news came as a complete shock. Jason was so dedicated.

  “What happened? What can I do to help?” I said. He just smiled his movie star smile and said, “No, baby doll, it’s done, but I love you.”

  Now that I had left the church, Jason was trying to show me what he had already experienced. His comment about it being like Christmas reminded me of the movie The Nightmare Before Christmas, where everyone lives in Halloween Town, and all they know from is a world related to Halloween. One day the main character Jack Skellington wanders into the forest and finds seven holiday doors and opens a portal to Christmas Town. Here, for the first time, he finds that there is a world outside of Halloween. He begins to question all he sees when he continually asks “What’s this?” It was the same thing for me and I imagine for anyone else who has left a cult-like community. Worlds open up to you that you were previously cut off from. I now realize that there are plenty of people in the universe doing good things. Not just Scientologists, as I was falsely led to believe.

  —

  MOST SCIENTOLOGISTS WILL NEVER MEET Tom Cruise or David Miscavige. They will never experience seeing behind the curtain like I and a handful of others have. And that is why most of my friends found what I went through unbelievable.

  On the other side of things, sitting down and talking to my non-Scientology friends for the first time about the “double life” I had been leading and unburdening myself to them with the truth was scary but ultimately cathartic.

  I was nervous to tell Jennifer that not only had I left the church but her father, David Lopez, a longtime Scientologist, might have pressure put on him to disconnect from his daughter or to have Jennifer disconnect from me.

  I called her and told her I needed to come over and talk to her. Her first response was “Is everyone okay?”

  “Yes, it’s about the church.”

  I drove to her house, going over in my mind if it would be the last time I would see or talk to her, if our friendship would be over. Much like it had been with my friends in the church who had chosen to disconnect from me.

  Upon my arrival at Jennifer’s, she was waiting for me with my favorite coffee.

  I started with “So the church has this policy…” And I explained disconnection to her. “If you stay friends with me, your dad will have to choose between you and the church and in more cases than not, people choose the church. So I am telling you that I understand your choice to disconnect from me.”

  Jennifer is a family girl, 100 percent. And although we are close, I assumed she would unequivocally choose her family, which I respected and was totally prepared for. Although I would have to mourn the loss of yet another friendship, I wouldn’t want her to make any other decision. As I sat there with my head down and tears welling in my eyes, she said, “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

  “I know, Jen, but it’s the policy
of the church.”

  She rolled her eyes and said, “That’s my dad, he would never. And you are my friend. I don’t want to ever talk about this bullshit again.” And with that she offered me a chocolate chip cookie.

  As the press rolled out the news in subsequent weeks, Jen often reminded me not to get caught up in the game of it, but to remember that good things happened to me while I was in the church and to take what positive experiences I had and move on with love from there. To find my peace with it, not to hate them.

  I am grateful to have Jennifer in my life. And while she may be known as J-Lo to most, at the same time she is a person who continues to improve who she is as a mother, a daughter, a sister, a woman. Once people reach a certain level in this business, they stop trying. And my friend hasn’t. And for that, I admire her and am most impressed.

  Jen is open to different paths, which is one of the many things I love about her. She doesn’t judge and is truly about self-love. She introduced me to therapy and she helped me to open up my mind to the idea that “there is more than one way.” For the last thirty-plus years, I was taught that there is only one way and that way is Scientology.

  So while it’s been a little more than two years now since I left the organization, for the first time it’s like I’m living a real and authentic life—everything from sitting and enjoying a glass of wine with non-Scientologist girlfriends without secretly judging them as they speak about their lives and thinking Scientology could help them with that, to worrying that I am wasting my time finding enjoyment in my child or family when I should be on course or in session instead. I put so much time, energy, and resources into the church that it left little room for anything else.

  In an attempt to further explore the world outside Scientology, I have been learning, or at least trying to learn, how to deal with my emotions in therapy (any form of psychoanalysis or therapy is completely frowned upon by the church).