Why I Left the Amish: A Memoir

Funeral Circle

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens: A time to be born, and a time to die . . . Ecclesiastes 3:1–2 Funeral Circle D att’s funeral did not resemble my recurring dream; in fact, it was as if I had converted the dream. I did not feel uncomfortable in my “high” clothing, surrounded by the four hundred other people at Datt’s funeral, most of them in Amish clothes. I didn’t need to wear Amish clothing that no longer fit me—either psychologically or physically. Rube’s Dave, the man who had shaken my hand so heartily the night before, had directed the attendees of the funeral where to sit. They were seated on rows of backless benches, lined up the width of the shed. In most Amish communities, church services, weddings, and funerals are held in people’s houses or in one of the outbuildings on the premises. Many of the church services of my childhood were held in the tops of barns, in the sheds where farm machinery was stored, or indoors when the weather no longer permitted outdoor services. Datt’s funeral service was being held in the shed Joe had built for the purpose of storing his masonry equipment. The day was cool enough that some women had their shawls wrapped around them. Datt’s closed coffin was right inside the door, with Mem sitting in her wheelchair at the foot end of his coffin. Next to Mem sat Joe and his wife, Emma. Because Sister Lizzie had not been able to travel from Kansas, I was the next in line according to age. David sat next to me. I wondered what he was thinking about these experiences, so different from his Roman Catholic 62 / why i left the amish upbringing. On the other side of David sat Sister Sarah and her husband, John. Sister Susan and her husband, Bill, were next, and at the end of the bench sat Brother Simon and his wife, Linda. Sister Katherine would have been sitting next to Linda if Susan and I had been successful in getting her a ride from Kentucky. Here was the symbol for all to see of how the men in the family had stayed Amish and all of the women had left: Brother Joe sat at one end and Brother Simon at the other, representing the Amish part of the family, with Sarah, Susan, and myself and our spouses in between. I don’t know if this says more about our family, or the community in general. Certainly the men in the community benefited more than the women from the requirement that women be subservient to their men—father, brothers, and husband. But we also had Mem’s example to go by: she had stayed in a difficult relationship in which she was much more capable of taking the lead than Datt, yet this was unacceptable within the community. She had rebellious feelings about having to be subservient to someone who was unreasonable and less intelligent and capable than she was, yet she strove to conform to the Amish ways. Mem’s true feelings about the treatment of women were not lost on us girls. But somehow I don’t think even the most subservient of mothers would have made a difference for me. I would have needed to be endowed with a whole different personality to be able to conform to the Amish ways. Joe sat with his head bent low, which was considered the humble Amish way, so that his chin was lost in his beard. His hair was cut in the Amish style, but it was unruly and stuck out on the sides, like many of the uncles and cousins on Mem’s side of the family. Joe had a prominent overbite that had been one of his distinguishing features as a child. He was often teased for having “buck teeth.” There were many years in a row in which I didn’t see Joe. I purposely avoided him—partly because I didn’t trust him, and partly because I didn’t know how to relate to him as an adult. When I saw him again three years ago, I was taken aback by how he had aged. He walked like Datt used to when he was an old man; he had a gray pallor, and his droopy eyelids obscured his dark eyes, but his nose was more like the...