Cl*t Cult
Written and Performed by Star Stone; Music & Lyrics by Star Stone and Charlie O'Connor; Ryan Cunningham
Presented by the New York City Fringe Festival
wild project | 195 E 3rd St, New York, NY 10009
Thu April 2 at 7:40pm, Sat April 4 at 12:20pm, Sun April 5 at 3:40pm, Wed April 8 at 7:40pm & Fri April 10 at 7:40pm
Photo Credit: Emillia Aghamirzai
Walking into the theatre to the sounds of “Pussy Pussy Marijuana” felt like both a wink and a warning. I settled in thinking, fine, take me wherever this is going. As it turns out, that openness is required. This is not a passive evening.
Clit Cult arrives as a world premiere, and there is something electric about being among the first audience to witness a story still finding its final shape.
Star Stone enters simply, mic in hand, perched on a stool. It begins like a late-night confession, or maybe a sleepover where nothing is off-limits. She takes us through early, awkward, and often hilarious sexual discoveries. Tampons. First orgasms. Masturbation. Porn. The rabbit. The audience laughs, sometimes loudly, sometimes uneasily, but always with recognition. These moments are disarming by design. They soften the ground before the fall.
Because then, the story turns.
Stone begins to unravel her experience with OneTaste, a wellness organization that promises personal liberation through orgasmic meditation (OM). What initially presents as a path toward self-discovery slowly reveals something far more insidious. The language is familiar: personal growth, healing, unlocking your potential. It echoes the rhetoric of other groups that blur the line between empowerment and control. The desire for self improvement and wellness a way to go deep within yourself in order to unlock or unblock whatever is keeping you from reaching your full potential and every cult has it all little flavor you know whether it’s Nexium focusing out on personal growth; the Rajneeshis where you’re looking for spiritual enlightenment; Twin Flames connecting soulmates; and then there’s One Taste.
Here, sexuality becomes both the hook and the weapon.
Stone guides us through her experience as a member. There are seminars where techniques to reach orgasm are displayed publicly. OM houses oscillate between communal sanctuary and something more unsettling. Shared beds, blurred boundaries, and a culture that encourages participants to override discomfort in the name of growth. “Lean into aversion” becomes less a mantra and more a mechanism. What is framed as liberation begins to feel like coercion. The line between consent and compliance grows dangerously thin.
The three songs woven throughout the piece attempt to punctuate this descent with humor. At times they land, offering a necessary release valve. “Vagina” playfully explains the makeup of the so-called holy grail. “Red Flag” sharply skewers the archetype of the self-proclaimed enlightened man, exposing the misogyny that often hides in these spaces. A third, centered on narcissism, underscores the hierarchy and ego driving the organization’s inner circles. The cabaret style, playful and provocative, sits in deliberate tension with the gravity of the subject matter. I wanted more songs.
Because beneath the humor, beneath the shock, there is something deeply unsettling. Stone’s story is not just about one organization. It is about the vulnerability that draws people toward promises of healing, and the systems that exploit that vulnerability. What is marketed as empowerment becomes a structure of control. What is framed as intimacy becomes something transactional, something extractive. Created by Nicole Daedone and Rachel Cherwitz, one might expect women to be safeguarding other women.
Patriarchy, it turns out, can dress exquisitely well, cloaked in feminist language and offered up as something soft, sacred, and safe.
At its core, this is a story about how easily power and control can hide in plain sight, especially when packaged as liberation.
Clit Cult’s urgency is undeniable. It asks the audience to sit with discomfort, to question the spaces that claim to offer healing, and to listen to the voices of those who have navigated their way out.
And perhaps most importantly, it reminds us that these systems survive in silence, and stories like this are how we start to dismantle them, even as new ones quietly take shape.
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Review by Malini Singh McDonald
Published by Theatre Beyond Broadway on April 7, 2026. All rights reserved.