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ultrajustjo · 4 months

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Of Loving Grace

Anabaptism, evangelical white women, and Amish novels: how history and fiction affect our neighbors and ourselves

The arts I'm examining this week are film and written fiction, and how they play together to illuminate harm and to reflect changed experiences.

This week, I caught part of a docu-video on Mary Byler, a woman who shares her trauma from living Amish in the United States in the late 20th/early 21st century. You can view it at the link below. I was curious enough about her story to find her public socials. Recently, Ms. Byler hosted several ex-Amish or Amish-related women for a discussion on the harm they say is done by the publishing industry on the psyches of Amish women and how they are perceived in American culture. You probably already have a stereotyped caricature in your mind of an Amish woman right now: demure, happy without electric power or personal agency, part of a loving community. Unless...you live near an Amish community and shop at Walmart with your Amish neighbors. If you've stood in line after work with an Amish neighbor, you might have a different mental image, particularly as there are 50 states with Amish communities and the Amish population is growing, according to both Wikipedia and Lancaster Online. If you hold that caricature in your mind, it's probably time to get rid of it. Byler says it's more than past time because the image is damaging to abused women who seek help outside of the Amish communities but are denied due process because of the perception that the culture-within-a-culture takes care of itself. (Any misunderstandings or misrepresentations of her stance are my own, and I encourage readers to follow the links and determine the stance, themselves.) Unfortunately, court cases like the ones Byler was involved with are proof that there is trouble within a very human community, and, also unfortunately, the ways abuse is dealt with in some Amish communities is to punish the victims.

Anabaptism is on my radar: I'm struggling through taking Church History at Duke Divinity School and reading about Reformation on the European continent. The bloody persecution of Anabaptists is part of that history, and, like their modern-day counterparts, the Amish, there are cultural, economic, and social elements at play along with religious expression. Does the broader American culture that pushes into and drives the economies of many Amish regions remain hands-off on the abuse of women and children with a unique heritage? Is it American patriarchy partnering with Amish patriarchy that leaves women vulnerable to abuse? Probably. In 2024, American women of all cultures and ethnicities face abuse and lack of due process.

Part of the lived cultural experience today, Byler says, is widespread abuse that is obscured by the Amish romance industry's depiction of Amish women. Some novels may describe sacharrin-vanilla characters empty of drive, intelligence, or autonomy. Has a fictionalized depiction of a small demographic caused harm? Byler says it has. Is that depiction limiting the help available to young girls and women living Amish who face abuse on what Byler says is a regular basis? Her panel says it is. You can see both videos below.

youtube

and, this one:

https://fb.watch/qkPqCyyRqK/?

Part of my ministerial training

...involves listening. I need to listen to these women speaking their truth now. For my training, I also need to listen to the voices of the past, the probable ancestors of these women (culturally, if not genetically). Anna was drowned and then burned, as were many Anabaptist martyrs. See if your heart doesn't break reading this:

As a Christian scholar and leader, I need to listen to these women of the present and of the past to acknowledge that harm is done and has been done. After acknowledgement, what do we do? Do we act with justice? Do we turn our eyes away? Do we use our voices in print, or carry them forward in song? Do we march? Do we pray in silence? Does our response matter? To Byler and her guests, our response does matter.

The first response from us, after prayers for humanity, is to buy Byler's book. Just buy it. Rush to buy it, then buy it, and then read it. Tell your friends to buy it and ask your libraries to buy it. Byler has a story that is part of humanity's history and it cannot be ignored or erased. Read her story, mindful of triggers. This is your trigger warning, ok? Buy it here:

THEN,

Go to her website and any of the websites for non-profits she is supporting and support them, too. In these ways, we can actively listen and actively respond with care.

Here is where it gets sticky.

Byler's guest panel discussed an author, Beverly Lewis, known for writing in the current fiction genre. They called out evangelical white women as the audience for the industry, and questioned the readers' motives such as imagining a fairy tale of a simple farm life. Their description reminded me of a 2020s version of the 1970s Little House on the Prairie phase, but with Amish religion instead of Methodist. A complaint I thought I heard from Byler and her guests was the theology infused throughout the books -- white-washed Evangelicalism, not Anabaptist American Amish or Mennonite.

Additionally, they complained of being erased in identity when they expressed their lived experiences, because the fiction is affecting the reality. One panelist was told by a male, non-Amish-related professor that he knew more about being Amish than she. Mansplaining at its finest, right? The lude requests they also received as Amish-related women were really over the top, and yet, so very familiar to any woman in nearly every culture. Fetishism is everywhere and in every time. Who is surprised?

I heard their anguish at professional diminishment. I heard their anger at being traumatized and ignored. And I heard their appeal to other women like me, readers of fiction. They asked us to boycott the Amish novels the way we boycott McDonald's for Palestine and Starbucks for unions. I am willing to boycott, but I've been boycotting Gillette for 30 years for vivisection and Dole for 30 years for violence over vegetable fields, and I, as a single individual, am really, really tired. Also, I was really annoyed that I got lumped into a group of people whose motives were speculated on, but isn't that just life? Can I let that minor annoyance go to prevent true harm against a people? Isn't that part of listening and choosing wisely and with care? Sure, yes.

But.

Is the fiction harmful?

This is the "ourselves" part

On the personal history side.

My grandmother loved novels by Grace Livingston Hill.

She had a set just like the ones pictured below. I'll include a link to buy them, too. Enjoy.

Want to read some? Try this auction:

Grace Livingston Hill novels were Christian fictional novels, clean and full of fluff, and Grandma loved them. She was Church of Christ, through and through, and five generations of our family have followed Church of Christ rules: no female teachers; and women cannot read in Church, serve communion, lead a prayer, or make a financial decision for a church. Women are to let their husbands be the head of the house, which means that men make the decisions for both the church and individual households. All Churches of Christ are independent, but my family had the knack of knowing which CoC was a "true" CoC and which wasn't -- some had pianos, and you know that wasn't going to fly! In my mother's era, no one divorced, no one danced, no one smoked, no one drank, and no one cussed -- in public. Countless relatives have their vices, but we all look the other way, or shame them, depending on who they are, how old they are, and what leadership roles they hold. It was an interesting life, full of love and faith, but not quite "right" for me, and sometimes, quite harmful. Abuse was hidden here, too. Whispers stayed in corners. Let's get back to Grandma.

Grandma was a spitfire, but she followed the rules, for the most part. She did divorce her wayward, violent husband and then remarry a gem of a man, and the couple had many early meetings with church heads before it was all through and they were allowed to marry. The Church of Christ, while no longer my cup of tea, is still full of caring people, and they cared for my grandparents for many years.

Grandma lived on an isolated farm as a young bride, and some of her children, including my mother, were born in a log cabin in the Ozarks. They had rusty trucks to take them to town, but on the farm, they used wagons. In the picture below, this couple is supposed to be my young grandparents, the wayward one and the spitfire, riding away on the wagon. They eventually sold the farm and migrated north to do factory work in Michigan, settling in Indiana. The family has been in northern Indiana for 70 years now. We have brunches at the Blue Gate Inn and spend occasional Wednesdays at the auctions. My grandpa, the one below, used to buy random lots from the Shipshewana auction and refurbish and resell them in front of his house in his retirement. This region holds our shared, intergenerational history.

The original of this photo hangs on my living room wall along with three others of people long passed. We don't remember their names but we still know their faces and their lineage. In 50 years, where will my photos be seen? It won't matter to me!

Grandma loved to take her grandkids to Nappanee to see the Amish tourist places. We didn't go because the people were Amish, though. We didn't gawk at them because 1) we were taught early in school about our Amish neighbors, 2) we shared the roads with the Amish, and 3) if someone wasn't Church of Christ, they weren't saved (in Grandma's book), and the Amish seemed to be set in their ways so staring at people without converting them would be rude. Grandma took us to Nappanee to see the tools she used to use on her farm. She showed us the sewing machines, the butter churns, and the wax-dipped candle strings. She would take a turn milking a goat to show us that she still could, and she'd reminisce about her old horses that used to work her father's farm and her own, too. Then she'd thank the young girls working that day and we'd leave.

On the way home, she and grandpa -- the second, not the wayward -- would split a hamburger and fries because "they were old and didn't eat much," and besides that, they could pinch a penny harder than anyone. And when she got home, she'd nap or re-read a Grace Livingston Hill fluff fiction that wasn't her religion but was close enough -- GLH was Presbyterian, but the books were "clean" and happy. I miss my grandma. I've run off on a few tangents already, so let's get back on track.

Was the fiction harmful? Is today's fiction harmful?

Grandma has now passed but she allowed that GLH was not harmful. My aunts and I don't read GLH, but we do read Amish novels -- many are romances, but some are mystery novels, and some feature DOGS. Yes, dogs. Cute little mutts. We read about fictional women taking care of their homes they way we still take care of our homes -- and yes, I live on an old farm. We read about fictional women who butt heads with stubborn men the way we do sometimes with our husbands. We read about fictional women who have limitations imposed on them by religion, or about fictional women who willingly participate in religious limitations. Members of my family fracture off into groups and leave one church community for another over disagreements, and when we come together at funerals we acknowledge the loss and then go our own ways. Religion both binds us together and rends us apart, and we identify with the situations in these silly, fictional books that let us read about the happy endings we wish we had.

Does anyone really have happy endings? Or do we gratefully acquire, or create, happy moments? Is a choice of fiction going to give a happy ending, or a happy moment? Will that choice cause a bad ending for women?

I want to be a listener, but I also want to be a discerner.

I don't want to consume graphic, dark novels. I don't want to buy or read porn. I don't want to read or watch anything that is going to have a trigger warning. These materials are harmful to me and to my psyche, but I am not going to call for their censorship for two reasons: 1. Censorship has dire consequences, and 2. Other morally decent and intelligent people do want to consume those materials. I have discerned that I feel better without associating with them. I argue that they can reflect violence in our society, but I also argue that they do not cause violence. Humanity is capable of violence on its own.

I don't know if I'll read any more Amish novels, but I may -- there are very good authors out there trying to make a living. I want to say that the novels are the modern day equivalent to GLH books -- harmless, fictional, and a trend that will wane. I'm not sure I can say that, so I ask more questions. What is the intentionality of the authors writing about Amish romances? Is it to harm a group? If the group says they are harmed by a false image, does a positive intent matter? Are the Amish depicted in books similar to the blonde in blonde jokes -- an annoying part of pop culture that is unfortunate for how actual blondes are perceived? Or, are they a misused cultural appropriation like Native American sports team mascots?

What will you do?

I'm going to finish Church History, then spend a month baking Grandma's bread recipe every week and crocheting a new sweater, or maybe a cross doily.

You should go buy Byler's book.

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