Ep.15 The 7M TikTok Cult

Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:24):
Welcome to Hidden Cults, the podcast that shines a light
into the shadows. Here we explore the strange, the secretive,
and the spiritually seductive. From fringe religions to doomsday prophets,
from communes to corporate empires. These are the movements that
promised meaning and sometimes delivered something far more dangerous. I'm
your host, and in each episode we uncover the true
stories behind the world's most controversial cults, the leaders who

(00:47):
led them, the followers who followed, and the echoes they
left behind. If you or someone you care about has
been impacted by a cult, you're not alone. There is help.
Whether you're still inside a cult or trying to process
what you've been through, support is out there. You can
find organizations and hotlines in the description of this episode.
You deserve freedom, healing, and a life that's truly your own.

(01:10):
Reach out. The first step is often the hardest, but
it's also the most powerful. If you'd like to share
your story and experiences with a cult, you can email
it to me and I will read it on a
future Listener Stories episode. Your anonymity is guaranteed always today's episode,
let's begin part one before the spotlight long before seven

(01:32):
M became a name whispered in the corners of Internet
forms and splashed across the headlines of mainstream news outlets.
Its story began in the shadows. It began in the
quiet corridors of personal ambition, in the overlapping worlds of faith, performance,
and control. To understand seven M, one has to look back,
before the hashtags, before the viral dances, before the allegations.

(01:54):
This is the part of the story that never trended,
the foundations laid long before the spotlight found them. The
origins of what would one day be called the seven
M TikTok cult can be traced not to the Internet era,
but to a more analog period of influence building in
the nineteen eighties and nineteen nineties, a time when the
Internet was still an experiment of academics and hobbyists. Charismatic

(02:18):
leaders rose through traditional networks, churches, community organizations, and niche
cultural scenes. It was in this era that Robert Schin
began carving out his presence. He was not yet a
viral figure, nor was he attached to the booming influencer economy. Instead,
his work unfolded in the more measured, slower moving world

(02:39):
of local ministry and small congregational outreach. Shin's early years
were defined by movement, both physical and social. The details
of his youth are scattered, told in fragments by those
who knew him, and filtered through years of retelling. Accounts
suggest he had an eye for performance from an early age,
not just the act to being on stage, but the

(03:01):
ability to hold an audience, to sense what they wanted,
and to give it to them in measured doses in
church halls. That skill translated into compelling sermons and a
leadership style that balanced charm with authority. Religious leadership, especially
in charismatic Christian movements, thrives on personal connection. The most

(03:22):
successful pastors and community heads are those who confuse personal
narratives with larger theological arcs, who can turn scripture into
something intimate and urgent. By the early two thousands, Shin
had begun developing this craft with precision. His ministry work
was not simply about faith in the abstract. It was
about positioning himself as an interpreter of the divine for

(03:45):
those who followed him. This positioning did not happen in
a vacuum. The early two thousands were also a period
of transformation in how young adults experienced religion. The megachurch
boom was in full swing, and ministries began to add
elements of pop culture to draw in younger audiences. Music, dance,
and performance were no longer side aspects of worship, but

(04:08):
integral to the experience. It was a shift that blurred
the line between entertainment and religious devotion, and it created
fertile ground for someone like Shin. During these years, Los
Angeles emerged as a critical backdrop. The city has always
been a place where performance is currency, and where the
lines between spiritual community and entertainment culture often blur. Ministries

(04:32):
competed not just with one another, but with Hollywood itself
for attention and loyalty. Shin's growing network, later tied to
entities such as Chakina Church, took root in this environment.
He saw not just the spiritual hunger in his audience,
but also their aspirations, dreams of creative careers, of dancing, acting,
and breaking into an industry that promised fame and financial reward.

(04:57):
The seeds of seven m's future model were already in
this mix. Long before TikTok existed, Shin was positioning himself
as a gatekeeper for opportunities in the performing arts. This
was not unusual for Los Angeles churches at the time,
many of which cultivated creative ministries involving music and dance
teams that could also serve as professional stepping stones. But

(05:19):
for Shin, the combination of spiritual authority and creative mentorship
became more than just a side project. It was the
core of his influence. In the mid twenty tens, as
social media began reshaping the entertainment industry, Shin's approach evolved.
Platforms like Instagram and YouTube created new ways for dancers
and performers to reach audiences without traditional gatekeepers. For many,

(05:44):
this was liberating For a leader with Shin's vision, It
was an opportunity to integrate his community's creative output with
the expanding digital marketplace. By now, he had cultivated close
relationships with young dancers, choreographers, and content creators. Many were
drawn to him through his ministry, but they stayed for
the professional opportunities he seemed to offer. Behind closed doors,

(06:07):
the dynamic was more complex. Multiple former members have described
the early stages of their involvement as a period of
intense admiration and trust. Shinn presented himself as both a
spiritual mentor and a career guide, a combination that made
it difficult for followers to separate their personal faith from
their professional ambitions. This dual role gave him a unique

(06:31):
level of control. If a performer's success was tied to
both their talent and their perceived spiritual alignment, then questioning
his authority risked jeopardizing both their place in the community
and their career trajectory. This was not yet seven M,
at least not in name. The company that would become
known as seven M Films would emerge later as the

(06:53):
influencer economy matured and TikTok exploded in popularity, but the
framework was already there, a tightly knit community of young,
ambitious performers whose careers were intertwined with the vision of
a single leader. The stage was set for a pivot
into the kind of content production that would eventually make
seven M a viral powerhouse. The story of seven MS

(07:16):
before is also the story of a broader cultural shift.
By the late twenty tens, dance videos and short form
content were redefining mainstream pop culture. The traditional audition to
agent pipeline was no longer the only path for performers.
TikTok's rise in twenty nineteen accelerated this change, offering overnight

(07:36):
visibility to creators who could capture the platform's fast moving trends.
For Shin, this was a moment of alignment, the merging
of his long standing network of performers with a platform
built to reward spectacle, charisma and repetition. Yet, even before
the first seven M branded TikTok post went live, the
community structure bore the hallmarks of insolarity out there. Insiders

(08:00):
rarely understood the full scope of relationships within the group,
and those inside often described it as an all encompassing world. Friendships, work, worship,
and social life all blurred together, making it difficult to
draw boundaries. That blurring would become one of the central
issues in later controversies. The transformation from a local, ministry

(08:21):
centered network into a social media driven brand was not abrupt.
It was gradual, a slow layering of influence that went
largely unnoticed outside the group. And this is where the
story begins. In the years when the seeds of seven
M's viral fame were quietly sown in rehearsal studios, church gatherings,
and private conversations. Long before the world knew the name,

(08:43):
the structure was there, waiting for the right moment to
step into the algorithm. Spotlight, Part two, The Rise of
Robert Shin. By the time Robert Shinn began stepping into
wider recognition, both inside his ministry and beyond, he had
already spent years cultivating a particular image. He was not
simply a pastor or a mentor. He was a man

(09:05):
who presented himself as a visionary. For many of his followers,
Shin was someone who could see both the spiritual and
practical pathways towards success. To them, he was more than
a religious leader. He was a figure who promised purpose, direction,
and a future that blended faith with personal ambition. Shin's
rise did not happen in isolation. It was intertwined with

(09:28):
the unique cultural landscape of Los Angeles, a city where
opportunity and reinvention are part of the air people breathe.
The entertainment industry was the city's most visible power structure,
but there was also a sprawling network of churches and
spiritual communities vying for influence. Shin positioned himself at the
intersection of these two worlds. In his orbit, it was

(09:51):
not unusual for conversations about scripture to be followed by
discussions about auditions, choreography, or creative projects. His early sermons
and teachings reveal a deliberate style. Shin had a knack
for taking common biblical themes and reframing them in ways
that resonated with the ambitions of his listeners. Instead of
solely focusing on salvation in the afterlife, he often spoke

(10:15):
about living with divine purpose in the present. This emphasis
on the here and now, on tangible outcomes and visible success,
appealed to young adults who wanted both spiritual grounding and
a sense of forward momentum in their careers. The church
environment Shin fostered reflected his personality. Services were not austere

(10:35):
or overly traditional. They were energetic, with music and performance
playing central roles. Dancers, singers, and musicians were not merely
part of the worship experience. They were showcased, celebrated, and
sometimes recruited. This approach created a seamless blend between worship
and artistry, one that blurred the line between spiritual devotion

(10:57):
and career opportunity. Shin's bit to connect on multiple levels
with his followers helped solidify his influence. He could speak
the language of scripture in one moment and the language
of the entertainment industry in the next. That dual fluency
made him an appealing mentor for those who dreamed of
creative success but also wanted to root themselves in a

(11:18):
supportive community. The more people came into his circle, the
more tightly woven it became. This was also the period
when Shin's reputation as a decisive and at times demanding
leader began to take shape. Accounts from those who knew
him suggest that he valued loyalty above almost all else.
Followers who demonstrated complete commitment were rewarded with greater access

(11:41):
to him and more opportunities within his projects. Those who
wavered or questioned his direction often found themselves on the
outside of key conversations, a subtle form of social exclusion
that reinforced the importance of staying aligned with his vision.
As his influence grew, so did his ambitions. Shinn began

(12:01):
expanding his reach beyond the confines of church walls, exploring
ways to connect with larger audiences. This was not an
unusual move for charismatic leaders. During the twenty tens, many
were experimenting with social media, live streaming services, and integrating
creative content into their outreach strategies. But for Shin, the

(12:23):
focus was not solely on building a bigger congregation. It
was on building a network of talent that could thrive
in the digital age. His recruitment style reflected this priority.
While some members came to him through traditional church outreach,
others arrived through referrals from dancers and performers already in
his orbit. Los Angeles' creative community is tightly interconnected, and

(12:45):
word of mouth travels fast. For young artists who struggled
to find stable footing in the competitive entertainment landscape, Shinn's
network offered both a support system and a potential career pipeline.
He spoke with the authority of a pastor, but also
with the confidence of a producer who understood the mechanics
of performance. This dual identity, part spiritual guide, part creative

(13:09):
entrepreneur became the foundation of his brand. It allowed him
to stand out in a city full of both pastors
and producers, carving out a niche that blurred categories. In
Shin's world, these roles were not separate. A person's faith, work,
and social life could exist in a single, unified space
with him at the center. During these years, Shin's leadership

(13:31):
also took on a more formalized structure. While the specifics
of his church's organization were not widely publicized, former members
describe a hierarchy that revolved around proximity to him. Those
closest to Shin often served as intermediaries, helping to coordinate projects,
manage schedules, and relay his directives. This arrangement created an

(13:53):
environment where access to the leader himself was both a
privilege and a measure of status. The groundwork for what
would become seven M was being laid in these relationships.
Shin was steadily building a base of loyal, talented individuals
who trusted him with both their spiritual growth and their
professional futures. In many ways, it was a mutually reinforcing system.

(14:16):
Success in one realm often depended on success in the other.
This interdependence would later become a central feature of the
seven M model for better or worse. By the late
twenty tens, Shin had honed his methods to a fine point.
He understood how to harness ambition, how to offer enough
opportunity to keep people invested, and how to position himself

(14:38):
as indispensable to their journeys. His network of performers began
to take on the characteristics of a company even before
it officially was one. Rehearsals, content shoots, and training sessions
began to occupy as much time as traditional church activities,
and the boundaries between ministry and business became increasingly blurred.

(14:58):
The period leading up to the affair formation of seven
M Films was one of steady momentum. Shin's name was
not widely known outside his circles, but within them he
was a figure of authority and influence. For those inside,
his leadership felt both empowering and protective. For those outside,
it was difficult to see the full picture. His reach

(15:20):
was concentrated, but it was also growing in ways that
were hard to track from a distance. When TikTok began
its meteoric rise in twenty nineteen, the moment Shin had
been building toward finally arrived. The platform's algorithm rewarded exactly
the kind of content his network was equipped to produce, short,
visually striking performances that could be rehearsed, polished, and repeated

(15:44):
for maximum impact. With a stable of talented dancers already
under his guidance, Shin was in a prime position to
pivot into the new era of online entertainment. The transition
from pastor to public figure in the influencer space did
not happen overnight. Jinn understood that the more visibility his
performers gained, the more his own influence expanded. As videos

(16:07):
from his circle began to rack up millions of views,
his role shifted subtly but significantly. He was no longer
just the leader of a church or a mentor to
a few dancers. He was the architect of a brand
that was beginning to take shape in the digital world.
Looking back, the rise of Robert Schinn can be seen
as the critical turning point in the seven M story.

(16:29):
Everything that followed, the viral videos, the controversies, the legal battles,
was built on the foundation he created during these years.
His ability to merge spiritual authority with creative ambition set
him apart from both traditional pastors and traditional producers. It
was this blend of roles and the loyalty it inspired,

(16:49):
that allowed him to move seamlessly into the influencer economy.
When the time came, the stage was set, the brand
was ready to emerge, and for the young performers in
his orbit, the promise of a platform and an audience
was too enticing to ignore. What none of them could
fully anticipate was how deeply their personal and professional lives
would become entangled in the process. Part three Building the

(17:13):
seven M Brand. When Robert Shinn moved from being simply
the leader of a close knit ministry to the architect
of a full fledged brand, it was not a spontaneous leap.
The groundwork had been laid for years. He already had
a core group of talented dancers and performers under his wing,
people who trusted him not only with their spiritual life,

(17:34):
but with the direction of their careers. The difference now
was that he would consolidate that trust into a defined
business entity with a clear identity, and that identity would
become seven M. The decision to formalize this network into
a company was not just a matter of organization. It
was a statement. Shinn was no longer operating as a

(17:56):
pastor who happened to guide a few young creatives on
the side. He was positioning himself as the head of
a talent management agency, one that could compete in the
fast changing world of social media influence. This was the
early twenty twenties and TikTok was exploding. The platform rewarded
visually engaging, high energy content that could be consumed in
seconds and shared endlessly. For dancers. It was a golden

(18:20):
era for Shin. It was the perfect storm. The name
seven M itself carried multiple layers of meaning, at least
for those inside the circle. On the surface, it referenced
the idea of seven mountains, a belief within certain Christian
circles that followers should influence seven key areas of society, religion, family, education, government, media,

(18:43):
arts and entertainment, and business. In Shin's case, it was
clear where the emphasis lay media, arts and entertainment. The
name suggested both a spiritual mission and an ambitious reach,
allowing the brand to speak to faith based insiders while
still presenting itself as a sleek professional agency to outsiders.
Once the company name and vision were solidified, the focus

(19:06):
turned to infrastructure. The performers under Shin's direction were no
longer just congregants or friends. They became clients. Talent under
contract assets and a growing portfolio, the workflow began to shift.
Instead of casual rehearsals or church performances, there were structured
content schedules, planned video shoots, brand strategy meetings, and choreography

(19:28):
sessions designed with virality in mind. Every movement, every camera angle,
every visual detail was part of a calculated approach to
maximize reach on social platforms. Shinn's leadership style in this
phase was strategic and deliberate. He positioned himself at the
center of all decision making, but he also delegated enough

(19:49):
responsibility to keep operations running smoothly. Some members took on
roles beyond performance, handling, editing, production coordination, and outreach to
potential collaborators. It was a self contained ecosystem. The dancers performed,
the videos were shot and edited in house, and the
content was distributed across multiple accounts to saturate tik Tok's algorithm.

(20:11):
What made seven M different from a typical talent agency
was the way personal and professional life were intertwined. Many
of the dancers lived in close proximity, some sharing accommodations
arranged through the network. Their daily schedules revolved around both
their performance commitments, and their church involvement. It was a
seamless blend of lifestyle and work, where the two were

(20:35):
so tightly connected that separating them would have been almost impossible.
This structure created an environment of constant contact, constant reinforcement
of the group's goals, and constant visibility for Shin as
the guiding figure. The esthetic of seven M content quickly
became recognizable. High energy choreography, coordinated outfits, carefully chosen locations,

(20:59):
and crisp gave the videos a polished, but relatable feel.
Viewers scrolling through TikTok might not have known anything about
the network's inner workings, but they could recognize a seven
M video when they saw one. The style was consistent
enough to build a brand identity, yet varied enough to
keep audiences coming back for more. Behind the scenes, there

(21:20):
was an intense focus on analytics. Performance metrics, likes, shares, comments,
watch time were monitored closely. Videos that performed well were
studied and replicated in new variations. Those that underperformed were
adjusted or scrapped entirely. This data driven approach allowed seven
M to stay ahead of trends and adapt quickly when

(21:41):
the algorithm shifted in an environment where visibility could vanish overnight.
This adaptability was essential. As the brand's reach grew, so
did the opportunities. Corporate sponsorships, product placements, and cross promotions
with other influencers became part of the business model. For
the dancers. These partnership's meant exposure and in some cases

(22:03):
income beyond the performance fees. For Shin, they represented validation
that seven M was more than a passion project. It
was a competitive player in the influencer economy. Still, for
all its outward success, the seven M brand was built
on an internal culture that was highly controlled. Decisions about collaborations,
creative direction, and even personal matters often flowed upward to

(22:26):
Shin for approval. This centralized control allowed him to maintain
a consistent brand image, but it also meant that the
performer's autonomy was limited. Many found themselves in a position
where leaving the group would mean not only losing career momentum,
but also severing personal and spiritual ties. The combination of

(22:46):
religious commitment and business structure gave seven M a resilience
that purely commercial agencies often lacked. Where other influencer collectives
might dissolve over creative differences or personal disputes. Seven M's
foundation in shared beliefs and communal life helped keep the
core intact. Members were not just working toward professional goals.

(23:08):
They were, in their view fulfilling a higher calling. That
belief made the long hours, the strict schedules, and the
constant demands feel like a necessary part of the mission.
From the outside, seven M's rise looked like a textbook
example of how to leverage social media for brand building.
The company had talented performers, a distinct style, and a

(23:30):
charismatic leader who knew how to position the group in
the online marketplace. Inside, however, the brand was more than
a business. It was a world unto itself. To join
seven M was to step into an environment where the
boundaries between work, worship, and personal life blurred until they
almost disappeared. By the time the brand was fully established,

(23:52):
it had achieved a level of recognition that would have
been unthinkable just a few years earlier. TikTok followers numbered
in the millions, individual videos regularly surpassed the million view mark,
and collaborations with major brands solidified seven M's place in
the influencer hierarchy. Shin had succeeded in creating a brand

(24:13):
that not only thrived in the competitive social media landscape,
but also maintained a tight knit internal culture rooted in
loyalty and shared vision. Yet, the very qualities that made
seven MS strong, its cohesion, its singular leadership, its integration
of faith and business would later become the focus of scrutiny.

(24:33):
The same centralized control that ensured consistency in branding would
be interpreted by critics as manipulation. The same sense of
higher purpose that kept members motivated would be seen by
outsiders as a tool for control, And the same blurred
lines between personal and professional life that created an all
in atmosphere would be questioned as a potential source of exploitation.

(24:56):
At this point in the story, however, those tensions had
not yet erupted into public controversy. For the dancers, the videos,
the brand deals, and the social media recognition were proof
that the system worked for Shin. The growth of seven
M was the culmination of years of strategic planning and
relationship building. The machine was running at full speed, the

(25:19):
content pipeline was steady, and the audience was growing every day.
The next phase would push the brand's visibility to unprecedented levels.
TikTok had already proven to be fertile ground for seven
m's style of content, but there was still room to
expand into other platforms, into larger collaborations, and into a
wider public conversation. What Shin could not fully control was

(25:42):
how that conversation would unfold once the spotlight grew too
bright to manage. Part four, the social media empire. By
the time seven M had cemented its identity as a brand,
its presence on TikTok was already formidable. Success on TikTok
came with its own pressures. The more the brand grew,
the more it had to produce to sustain that growth.

(26:03):
Viewers who were used to daily uploads began to expect them.
A dip in posting frequency could mean a dip in views,
which in turn could affect the momentum that had been
so carefully built. To avoid that, the group maintained an
almost relentless pace, working behind the scenes to ensure there
was always new material ready to go. In public appearances

(26:24):
and interviews, when they happened, the dancers spoke about the
joy of performing and the bond they shared as a group.
They credited their success to hard work, unity, and a
shared vision. For most audiences, that was all they needed
to hear. The performances spoke for themselves, and the behind
the scenes dynamics remained largely invisible. The social media empire

(26:47):
Shin had built was more than a collection of viral videos.
It was a carefully engineered system for creating, packaging, and
distributing content at scale. It was a brand machine, one
that used the language of art and entertainment to cultivate
influence and visibility. And it was working. But the very
visibility that fueled seven m's growth also carried a risk.

(27:09):
The brighter the spotlight, the harder it became to control
the narrative. In the early days, critics could be dismissed
as outsiders who did not understand the vision. As the
brand grew, however, the audience expanded beyond those who simply
enjoyed the dances. Journalists, bloggers, and social media commentators began
to take notice, and some started asking questions about who

(27:31):
was behind the camera and what life inside the network
was really like. For the moment, those questions were easy
to keep at the margins. The majority of viewers were
still caught up in the excitement of the content itself,
but cracks were beginning to show. Stories from former members
began circulating quietly, often framed as personal disputes or misunderstandings

(27:55):
rather than systemic problems. Still, they hinted at a different
side to the seven MM Empire, one that was far
less polished than the videos suggested. In the meantime, the
brand continued to operate at full capacity. If there were
tensions behind the scenes, they did not slow the output.
The dancers kept performing, the videos kept going viral, the

(28:16):
deals kept coming in. From a purely business perspective, the
social media empire was thriving. It was a peak moment
for seven M, the kind of success that most influencer
collectives could only dream of. But at its core it
remained dependent on a delicate balance the cohesion of the group,
the direction of its leader, and the constant engagement of

(28:37):
an audience whose loyalty could shift with a single trending
video from somewhere else. The empire was strong, but it
was also fragile, and soon the outside world would begin
to press harder on the questions that had so far
been easy to ignore. Part five. Allegations and legal battles

(29:03):
The turning point for seven M did not arrive in
the form of a sudden collapse or a single catastrophic scandal.
It came in waves. Whispers grew into public statements, private
disputes became court filings. The same online platforms that had
fueled the group's meteoric rise began to amplify the voices
of those who claimed they had been wronged. For months,

(29:25):
the criticisms were scattered a social media post from a
distant acquaintance, a comment buried beneath hundreds of others on
a viral video. At first, the accusations sounded like typical
fallout from the influencer world, misunderstandings over contracts, disputes about payment,
bruised egos after creative disagreements, But the stories began to align.

(29:48):
Different people from different parts of the group's orbit started
describing similar experiences. The allegations covered a wide spectrum. Some
were financial, claiming that members were pressured into signing contracts
that stripped them of independence and lock them into deals
that disproportionately benefited Robert Schinn in his inner circle. Others

(30:08):
were more personal, alleging emotional control, social isolation, and manipulation.
Several accounts described a blurring of boundaries between the professional
brand of Seven M and the religious environment of Chicina Church,
suggesting that the two worlds were not as separate as
the public image implied. In interviews with journalists, former members

(30:30):
and their families painted a picture of a system designed
to limit outside influence. They claimed that dancers were encouraged
to sever tize with friends and family who questioned the
group's structure or Shin's leadership. Opportunities that came from outside
the network were sometimes discouraged or redirected so that the

(30:51):
work remained within the Seven M ecosystem. The result, according
to these accounts, was a situation in which members became
increasingly dependent on the group for their income, social life,
and sense of purpose. Shin's critics argued that this was
not accidental. They saw it as a deliberate strategy to
consolidate control, both financially and emotionally. Supporters of the group, however,

(31:15):
dismissed the accusations as exaggerations or outright fabrications, insisting that
participation was voluntary and that members were free to leave
at any time. The truth was difficult to pin down,
in part because the experiences of current members remained largely
invisible to the public. The allegations gained momentum when a

(31:36):
handful of families decided to take concerns to court. Lawsuits
began appearing in public records, each one adding new details
to the broader narrative. Some suits alleged fraud and breach
of contract. Others accused Shin and his associates of intentionally
inflicting emotional distress. The filings were dense with legal language,

(31:57):
but at their core, they told human stories. Parents who
felt they had lost contact with their children, performers who
believed their careers had been exploited, and individuals who claimed
they had been coerced into making decisions that benefited the
leadership at their own expense. Legal battles are rarely quick.
Months passed between initial filings and the first hearings. In

(32:21):
the meantime, media coverage of the lawsuits began to shape
public perception. Outlets that had previously featured the group for
its artistry now covered it under headlines about controversy and control.
The same choreography that once inspired comments about skill and
creativity was now being discussed alongside words like exploitation and manipulation.

(32:42):
The response from seven M and Robert Shin's legal team
was unequivocal. They denied wrongdoing, framing the allegations as attacks
from disgruntled former members with personal grudges. Public statements emphasized
the group's accomplishments and the voluntary nature of participation. In
court documents, they argued that the plaintiffs had misunderstood or

(33:04):
misrepresented the agreements they had signed. While the legal proceedings
played out, the fight also unfolded in the court of
public opinion. Social media became a battleground where supporters and
critics clashed in comment sections, stitched videos, and lengthy posts.
Some fans defended the dancers with unwavering loyalty, insisting that

(33:24):
outsiders could not understand the dynamics within the group. Others
pointed to the mounting legal actions as evidence that something
was deeply wrong. The controversy began to affect business. Brand
partnerships became more cautious. Some companies distanced themselves from the group,
not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of an

(33:44):
ongoing public dispute. Opportunities that had once flowed easily now
came with more scrutiny, more negotiation, and sometimes more rejection.
Inside the group, the atmosphere reportedly shifted. Former members described
a tightening of control, more or oversight of communication, more
emphasis on presenting a united front. For those still in

(34:05):
seven M, the expectation to perform at the highest level remained,
but now it was coupled with a heightened awareness that
every appearance, every video, and every public statement could be
interpreted through the lens of the controversy. The legal battles
themselves moved forward slowly, as they often do. Motions were filed,
hearings were scheduled and postponed, and both sides dug in

(34:28):
for a process that could stretch for years. In the meantime,
the lawsuits kept the allegations in the public eye. Even
when no new developments occurred in court, journalists continued to
revisit the story, interviewing new sources and uncovering additional claims.
For Robert Schin, the allegations represented a direct challenge to
his leadership and to the public image he had worked

(34:50):
to cultivate. The legal stakes were significant, but so were
the reputational stakes. For a brand built on public appeal,
sustained negative coverage could erode the trust and enthusiasm that
had fueled its growth. Yet even under this pressure, seven
M continued to produce content. The TikTok account remained active,

(35:12):
the choreography remained tight, and the engagement numbers stayed high
enough to keep the brand visible to outside observers. It
was a strange duality, a social media presence that looked
as polished as ever, running parallel to a legal drama
that threatened to unravel the entire operation. In the end,

(35:32):
the allegations and legal battles became as much a part
of the seven M story as the dances that had
first brought the group attention. They marked a shift from
a narrative about ambition and artistry to one about power, influence,
and accountability. The outcome of the lawsuits was still uncertain,
but one thing was clear. The questions raised by the
allegations were not going away. They had moved beyond private

(35:55):
disputes and into the public record, where they would remain
long after the last video for this chapter of seven
M was posted. Part six, Legacy and What Comes Next,
The story of seven M is still unfolding. Like any
organization still active in the public eye, its legacy is
not fixed. What we can trace, however, is the arc
from its earliest days to the point where controversy became

(36:16):
inseparable from its name. That arc tells us as much
about the modern relationship between art, influence, and power as
it does about Robert Schin or any individual member. The
dancers who first made seven M a phenomenon will always
be part of that story. Their technical precision, their ability
to make choreography feel effortless, and their knack for creating

(36:38):
shareable moments are undeniable. Those elements built the group's reputation
and attracted millions of viewers from around the world. In
that respect, seven M's legacy in the digital dance space
is secure, regardless of the allegations. Those early videos remain
a testament to talent and craft. But legacy is not
only about what you produce. It is about the environment

(36:58):
you create for the people who help you produce it.
In the years to come, the accounts from former members
will weigh heavily on how seven M is remembered. If
the lawsuits and allegations are upheld or widely accepted, the
group could come to be seen less as a groundbreaking
artistic collective, and more as an example of how creative
ambition can be overshadowed by control and exploitation. The cultural

(37:21):
footprint of seven M also extends beyond the dance world.
The way it blurred the lines between religious community and
entertainment brand is a case study for both admirers and critics.
For those who see value in faith based creative networks,
seven M demonstrates how shared belief can be a powerful
unifier for those who view its structure as problematic, it

(37:42):
is a cautionary tale about how that same unity can
tip into dependency, creating conditions where descent is muted and
individual autonomy erodes. The group's ability to keep producing content
throughout the controversy is another part of its complicated legacy.
That persistence can be read in two ways. On one hand,
it shows resilience and unwillingness to let outside pressure dictate

(38:04):
the group's trajectory. On the other, it can be seen
as an attempt to maintain control over the narrative, projecting
an image of normalcy while serious accusations remained unresolved. The
influence of social media in this story cannot be overstated.
Without platforms like TikTok seven M might have remained a
niche dance group with a local following. Instead, it became

(38:27):
a global name, with all the benefits and vulnerabilities that
come with that kind of exposure. The same algorithms that
push their videos into millions of feeds also accelerated the
spread of critical coverage. In the digital age, public perception
is fluid, shifting with every post, every comment, every headline.
Robert Shinn's role in shaping the group's future is equally significant.

(38:50):
His leadership, style, public statements, and legal strategy will determine
whether seven MEM can navigate the current turbulence or if
it will become a fixture in discussions about influencer exploitation.
Shin has remained steadfast in his denials, framing the controversy
as the result of misunderstandings and resentment from those no
longer involved. Whether that stance will help him maintain control

(39:14):
or further isolate him from potential allies remains to be seen.
For current members, the road ahead is uncertain. If the
lawsuits are resolved in favor of the plaintiffs, the structure
of seven M could change dramatically, possibly even dissolving under
financial or reputational strain. If the group successfully defends itself,
it may emerge with its leadership intact, but will still

(39:36):
face the challenge of rebuilding trust with a public that
has watched its disputes play out in real time outside
the courts. The conversation around seven M touches on broader themes,
the vulnerability of young creatives seeking opportunity, the complex interplay
between artistry and commerce, and the ways in which charismatic
leadership can inspire and divide an equal measure. The dancers

(39:59):
at the center of this story were not simply performers.
They were brand ambassadors, content creators, and, in some cases,
devoted members of a religious community. That combination of roles
raises questions that extend far beyond seven M into the
way we think about modern creative labor. Legacy is rarely neat.
It is an accumulation of achievements and failures, of moments

(40:21):
celebrated and moments regretted. For seven M, the beauty of
its performances will always be contrasted with the ugliness of
the accusations. Those two realities exist side by side, each
shaping how the group will be remembered. As for what
comes next, the lawsuits will likely dictate much of the
near future. Court decisions have the power to their vindicate

(40:42):
or condemn, but they rarely settle every question. The group's
answers past and present will carry their experiences with them,
influencing how they navigate opportunities and relationships for years to come.
In the wider cultural conversation, seven M will serve as
both a warning and a model, a warning about the
potential pitfalls of centralized control in creative communities and a

(41:05):
model for how rapidly a group can achieve prominence through
disciplined content strategy. Which of those lessons people take away
will depend on where they stand in the ongoing debate.
The final measure of seven M's legacy may not be
decided by the courts or by the media, but by time.
As years pass, memories fade and narratives harden into accepted truths.

(41:26):
Some will remember the synchronized steps and seamless transitions. Others
will remember the headlines and the lawsuits. Both will be
correct because both are part of the same story, and
that story is not over. In our next episode, we
move from the dance studios of Los Angeles to the remote,
guarded communities of the American West. We will examine one

(41:47):
of the most controversial religious groups in modern history, the
Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints. Known
for its strict polygamist practices, secretive leadership, and high profile
legal battles, the FLDS has been at the center of
national debates over religious freedom, child welfare, and state intervention.

(42:07):
We will explore its origins, the rise of Warren Jeffs,
the inner workings of its closed communities, and the dramatic
confrontations that brought it into the public spotlight. That's next time.

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.css-r6mb8g{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:1;overflow:hidden;}NFL Daily with Gregg Rosenthal

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Ep.15 The 7M TikTok Cult

NFL Daily with Gregg Rosenthal