Am I Mennonite? - Introduction and Reflection

Hello and Welcome! I am a 30 year old genderqueer woman living with chronic illnesses and mental health difficulties. I grew up with a love of writing and have been blogging on and off since I was a young teen. In this latest iteration of my written thoughts, I’d like to focus primarily on my journey into discovering my identity and developing confidence in who I know I am.

I grew up in a conservative Mennonite community in Rural Manitoba. I knew myself and my peers to be from the same Mennonite background, and considered that background to be the societal norm. It wasn’t until my family started attending church in the City of Winnipeg that I began to understand that my Mennonite Christianity was in some ways very different from the mainstream Christianity of my new peers. They had a greater understanding of the secular world than I did. They read books and watched movies that were forbidden to me, and most of them attended Winnipeg public schools and had non-Christian friends.

When I began to attend a Christian private school in Winnipeg for junior high, the cultural rift between my Mennonite background and those of the mainstream Christian students became clearer. I learned that my last name was confusing to pronounce for those unfamiliar with German or Mennonite names, so I conformed to the English pronunciation. I learned that some of the words I considered “every day words” weren’t actually English, but in fact Plautdietsch (Low German). Over a short time, my identification with Mennonite culture diminished until it only included the foods my maternal Grandmother prepared for our family.

Tragically, my maternal Grandmother passed away at the early age of 58, just 5 months before my high school graduation. I had not properly learned any of her recipes, nor properly shadowed her in the kitchen, nor sought out her advice on cooking and baking before she passed. In my grief, I also failed to claim or preserve anything left behind in her kitchen. It felt as though the only connection I had left to my Mennonite heritage had died, and that there was no point in attempting to recreate her magic.

A couple years later at the age of 19, I lost my faith in Christianity. The conservative version of Christianity that I had been taught from childhood continued to harm more people I cared about. This version of Christianity also taught that there was no room for flexibility in Christianity. There was no room for progressive thought within my religious community. I knew I had to make a choice, and I chose to believe the people I cared about who were being harmed.

Through using this methodology, which I later identified as a values system called “harm reduction”, I removed myself from subsequent communities I joined, including atheist groups, humanist groups, and corners of the queer community. With my conservative religious background, it often surprised me to witness these groups demonizing conservatism and religion, while at the same time displaying the same dysfunctional behaviors that result in harming the people around them. I was looking for something different.

At some point I realized I was running, trying to escape all the things about my past that were too difficult to face. I opened up to spirituality again, and through spiritual exploration I discovered things I’d forgotten or never knew about myself. I rediscovered my love of nature, working with my hands, and playing casual sports. I learned that I love modest, feminine outfits, and actually enjoy many of my traditionally gender-assigned tasks like house-keeping and cooking. I remembered that I always wanted to live somewhere secluded as a young child dreaming of Little House on the Prairie, and Heidi up on the mountain.

Through these rememberings and learnings, I started making some connections back to my Mennonite roots. I learned to make myself schmaunt fat (cream gravy), my favorite meal as a child and to this day. Each time I prepare this meal, I feel deeply connected to my Grandmother. I bought myself the long skirts and shawls that feel comfortable on my body, pinned my long hair up in a bun, and suddenly I see a Mennonite woman in the mirror. I thirst and ache for a slower lifestyle closer to the land, and then I remember that my ancestors resisted many aspects of modern living until recent history.

I began to question; Can I take back my Mennonite heritage? As a queer person, as a non-Christian person, am I allowed to co-identify as a Mennonite?

Then I attended the Fall Festival at the Mennonite Heritage Museum in Steinbach, Manitoba. It was my first visit to the museum since the elementary school field trip I remember from my childhood. In some ways, it felt like coming home. Eating at the Livery Barn brought back many pleasant memories of eating my Grandmother’s food with my family. Hearing Plautdietsch in the air, even though I don’t understand the language, reminded me of listening to my own family’s conversations. And the gift shop was filled with reminders of my childhood, like bags of wooden knipsbrat (crokinole) pieces. At the end of the day, I bought myself a handcrafted apron for working in the kitchen and a t-shirt that reads “Schmaunt Fat is in My DNA”.

The reality of the matter is that I am Mennonite, whether I want to be or not, and whether anyone else agrees with it or not. I was born to a Mennonite family in a Mennonite community, taught Mennonite values and beliefs, and raised on Mennonite foods and cultural activities. My ancestors were hard working farmers and devout Christians who fought to preserve the Mennonite way of life for hundreds of years. This is part of my story, regardless of where I go from here.