Stories like Ours
We all need books that move us, change us, challenge us, enlighten us, educate us, heal us. One book that has been healing for me in my journey away from fundamentalism and spiritual abuse has been Devoted by Jennifer Mathieu. This is just one of many that have made me feel less alone in my experience, that have opened my heart to the possibility that my story is important too, that this hasn’t all been for nothing. That our experiences mean something.
When I first heard about Jennifer Mathieu, I was attending the Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College three years after leaving the stay-at-home-daughter movement, and I saw the title of her talk in the conference program, with a description of her book mentioning Christian Patriarchy. I hadn’t heard of any fiction books about the world of fundamentalist Christianity, and I was curious to see what she had to say and what her book Devoted was about.
I remember sitting in the middle of the room, trying to blend in (is this how “normal people” sit, am I wearing what “normal people” wear to conferences). I was worried the book would be some kind of Amish spinoff story. Surely, no one would write about women who stayed home past high school waiting to get married, and not make fun of them.
But this wasn’t how the talk went at all. Jennifer talked about her research, how she had interviewed women who had left the Quiverfull movement, who were surviving on their own after their move into freedom. She was respectful, compassionate, and empathetic. It was more than I could have hoped.
I generally stick to myself at busy events, but Jennifer was doing a book signing after her talk and I decided to go. I don’t remember what I said exactly, but somehow I managed to communicate that what happened to the girl in her book, happened to me too. That I had left my past behind, that I was doing my best to find my own way in this strange world of college and independence.
And she listened to me, a stranger, as almost no one else has ever listened before. She asked if she could hug me, and she came around to my side of the table and gave me a hug in front of the rest of the line waiting for her signature. I was more of a mess than I have ever been in public, and I didn’t even care. Someone had seen me, had understood my story, had not made fun or misunderstood or called me crazy.
I finished my cry in my car, reading over what Jennifer had written in my book:
“I’m so touched you shared your story with me - I hope you find this book to be compassionate and respectful.”
I went home and read the novel, and it was everything I needed in that moment: a story of survival, of strength, of a girl named Rachel who made it out of stay-at-home-daughter culture and didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere. I wasn’t sure anyone would care about a story like mine, yet here was a book that reminded me that I’m not the only one who has gone through this kind of transition, this kind of decision to leave almost everything behind.
Devoted is a young adult novel, but I think that helps readers all the more get into the perspective of a young woman who wants to be a part of her family but who starts to realize that she’s in a dangerous place if she stays. When I was growing up, girls like Rachel were talked about as rebellious, wicked. They had been persuaded by the sinful worldly culture to abandon their calling to stay home under the headship of their fathers. They were dangerous. They were lost.
But this is not how the story really happens. I know firsthand that women like me who left, who have pushed back against the restraints of fundamentalism, are strong women who wanted to please their parents but never could. They were brave enough to believe that their lives could mean something more.
Sharing our stories is important work. It’s not only freeing for ourselves but also encouraging and inspiring to others. It opens the cracks and lets in the light. Telling our stories takes vulnerability and bravery, but it’s the only way we can find each other in a world that seems darker when we’re alone.