Women Talking

“[D]oubt and uncertainty and questioning are inextricably bound together with faith. A rich existence, she said, a way of being in the world, wouldn’t you say?”

As August is trying to find his way after being released from jail, a kind librarian allays his guilt over his religious doubts and helps him find his way back to the colony and Ona. This foreshadows the discussions the women will have as they try to find their way to freedom from abuse—in particular, those that surround Keeping Faith in a Religion Steeped in Hypocrisy.

“But is forgiveness that is coerced true forgiveness? asks Ona Friesen. And isn’t the lie of pretending to forgive with words but not with one’s heart a more grievous sin than to simply not forgive? Can’t there be a category of forgiveness that is up to God alone, a category that includes the perpetration of violence upon one’s children, an act so impossible for a parent to forgive that God, in His wisdom, would take exclusively upon Himself the responsibility for such forgiveness?”

Ona poses a question about forgiveness and when it might be legitimate to not forgive. This is illustrates a major theme of the novel: how to hold on to faith when religion as practiced is corrupt and oppressive.

“When we have liberated ourselves, we will have to ask ourselves who we are. Now she asks: Is it accurate to say that at this moment we women are asking ourselves what our priority is, and what is right—to protect our children or to enter the kingdom of heaven?”

Ona asks the women to delay the question of who they are as women and to ask a more important question that pits religion against protecting their children. The women questioning their faith is a major theme of the novel, and here Ona justifies why they need to question that faith. If their faith makes them choose between protecting their children or going to heaven, the right answer is perhaps to question that faith itself.

“Now Salome Friesen asks, aggressively, Is this how we want to teach our daughters to defend themselves—by fleeing? Mejal Loewen interjects: Not fleeing, but leaving. We’re talking about leaving.”

As the women debate their two viable choices—to stay and fight or to leave—Mejal, whose family favors leaving, points out the difference between fleeing and leaving. This distinction reflects the women’s emerging sense of agency over their own lives and those of their families.

“We are women without a voice, Ona states calmly. We are women out of time and place, without even the language of the country we reside in. We are Mennonites without a homeland. We have nothing to return to, and even the animals of Molotschna are safer in their homes than we women are. All we women have are our dreams—so of course we are dreamers.”

Ona clearly states the conditions under which the women live. They have no voice and are less safe than the animals in the colony. By naming these untenable conditions, she sets the starting point from which the women will evolve. She also acknowledges that the women can only escape their conditions through their dreams, or, ironically, their “female imaginations.”

“Mariche opens her mouth, but Salome quickly interjects. Time will heal our heavy hearts, she states. Our freedom and safety are the ultimate goals, and it is men who prevent us from achieving those goals.

But not all men, says Mejal.

Ona clarifies: Perhaps not men, per se, but a pernicious ideology that has been allowed to take hold of men’s hearts and minds.”

When Salome makes a blanket statement about men, Mejal interjects that some men are not perpetrators of the attacks. Ona further clarifies that while all the men might not be guilty, an ideology involving men is to blame—an articulation of The Violent and Repressive Nature of Patriarchy. The passage reveals not only the premise upon which the women are debating but also the differences in the women’s characters: Mejal is more conservative and thus inclined to defend the men, while Ona is unconventional and prone to thinking in abstractions.

“I remember how my father, two days before he disappeared, told me that the twin pillars that guard the entrance to the shrine of religion are storytelling and cruelty.”

August remembers his father’s words about religion. This instills in August an outsider’s perspective on the colony, allowing readers to see through eyes that are perhaps more aligned with their experience. It names the cruelty of the Mennonite religion as practiced in Molotschna, but it also lends weight to the stories the women tell among themselves as the building blocks of a new religion.

“You must think we’re all lunatics, [Agata] says.

I insist that I don’t, and nor does it matter what I think.

Ona stops laughing, barely. Do you think that’s true, she asks, that it doesn’t matter what you think?

I blush. Maul my own head.

She continues: How would you feel if in your entire lifetime it had never mattered what you thought?”

Ona shows compassion for August while stressing the conditions under which the women exist. August, for his part, realizes his marginalization in this conversation is trivial compared to what the women have experienced. This interaction illustrates how communication is breaking down barriers of understanding between the characters.

“So once again, we return to our three reasons for leaving, and they are valid. We want our children to be safe. We want to keep our faith. And we want to think.”

Salome succinctly names the conditions the women desire and, in doing so, reveals that they lack basic human needs. This illustrates the women’s motive to take the drastic action they are discussing and foreshadows their willingness to take the steps they do.

“Salome interrupts. We’re not members [of Molotschna]! she repeats. We are the women of Molotschna. The entire colony of Molotschna is built on the foundation of patriarchy (translator’s note: Salome didn’t use the word ‘patriarchy’—I inserted it in the place of Salome’s curse, of mysterious origin, loosely translated as “talking through the flowers”), where the women live out their days as mute, submissive and obedient servants. Animals. Fourteen-year-old boys are expected to give us orders, to determine our fates, to vote on our excommunications, to speak at the burials of our own babies while we remain silent, to interpret the Bible for us, to lead us in worship, to punish us! We are not members, Mariche, we are commodities. (Again, a translator’s note about the word “commodities”: similar situation to above.)

Salome continues: When our men have used us up so that we look sixty when we’re thirty and our wombs have literally dropped out of our bodies onto our spotless kitchen floors, finished, they turn to our daughters. And if they could sell us all at auction afterwards they would.”

Salome’s long soliloquy defends her stance that they are possessions, commodities of the colony, not members. This articulates the additional conditions (other than the violent attacks) that motivate the women to take action. Even if the attacks stopped, the women would still be treated as less than human.

“Did you lose your faith? asked Ona.

Many times, I said. I wanted to kill several of my cellmates. And most of the guards.

Were you afraid? asked Ona.

Always, I said. Always.”

August uses his murderous thoughts as evidence that he lost his faith, illustrating how deeply the religion of his youth is ingrained in him. His experience in prison lends weight and credibility to his position as narrator, giving him insight into the women’s victimization.

“[W]e have ruled out the option of doing nothing because by doing nothing we are not protecting our children, who were given to us by God to protect and nurture—

Mariche interrupts: But how can we be sure they won’t be harmed when we leave Molotschna?

We can’t be sure, says Ona. But we can be sure they will be harmed if we stay. Ona and Mariche lock eyes.”

Ona and Mariche find common ground in this exchange. They both are concerned for their children’s safety, and they both know their children are not safe in the colony. This is an example of the power of communication to build community, find commonality, and open hearts.

“As I understand it, what we women have determined is that we want, and believe we are entitled to, three things.

What are they? asks Greta.

Mariche says: We want our children to be safe. She has begun to cry softly and is finding it difficult to speak, but she continues. We want to be steadfast in our faith. We want to think.”

This passage illustrates the power of communion and community as Mariche reiterates Salome’s words from earlier. While Mariche had been skeptical of the need for the women to take drastic measures, by this time she is convinced. By weeping, she reveals her complex character’s soft core, housed in a hard exterior.

“[W]e, the women, do not know exactly what is in the Bible, being unable to read it. Furthermore, the only reason why we feel we need to submit to our husbands is because our husbands have told us that the Bible decrees it.”

Salome and the rest of the women recognize and name the hypocrisy of their religion and how their illiteracy compounds the men’s ability to exert control over them. Speaking this aloud strengthens the women’s resolve to escape their imprisonment.

“I am struck by a thought: Perhaps it is the first time the women of Molotschna have interpreted the word of God for themselves.”

Even August, already aware of and sympathetic to the restraints the women experience, is struck by the extent to which their thinking has been done for them. The passage reveals the depths of marginalization the women experience.

“We will feel anguish and we will feel sorrow and we will feel uncertainty and we will feel sadness, but not guilt, says Agata.

Mariche amends: We may feel guilty but we will know we are not guilty.

The other women nod, eagerly. Mejal says, We may feel homicidal but we know we are not killers.

Ona says, We may feel vengeful but we will know we are not raccoons.

Salome is laughing. We may feel lost, she says, but we will know we are not losers.”

Revealing the characters’ ability to still laugh, this passage also reveals the women’s ability to separate thoughts from actions, as well as their welcoming of thoughts they won’t act on. As the women discuss their plans, they continue to evolve from angry women, suspicious of each other, to a community of angry but determined women willing to act together.

“You’re confusing love with obedience, says Mariche.”

Mariche’s words to Agata show that Toews’s characters are not flat and stereotypical but rather full, multifaceted characters: Even Agata, an archetype of the wise woman, is prone to “confusion” of certain kinds. It also shows Mariche’s new understanding of the women’s situation.

“For the women of Molotschna to agree to try to influence their sons is truly revolutionary, she says.”

Ona names the transformation that is taking place in the community of women. Her statement points to the patriarchal nature of the colony by contrast, as a commonplace occurrence—a parent trying to “influence” their child—is “revolutionary” merely because of the genders involved.

“We are wasting time, pleads Greta, by passing this burden, this sack of stones, from one to the next, by pushing our pain away. We mustn’t do this. We mustn’t play Hot Potato with our pain. Let’s absorb it ourselves, each of us, she says. Let’s inhale it, let’s digest it, let’s process it into fuel.”

Greta’s words are words of empowerment. She urges the women to move forward, to take what they have been given and transform their and their children’s lives with it. She realizes the power of pain and encourages the women to fully claim their pain and use it to build their world, changing their status from victim to victor.

“No, Ernie, says Agata, there’s no plot, we’re only women talking.”

When one of the men—the harmless, old, and infirm man in whose barn they are meeting—discovers the women and asks what they are doing, Agata assures him they are “only women talking.” This meta understatement points to the women’s understanding that talking carries tremendous power.

“Agata places her hands on the table, for support. Melvin, she asks, are you, too, ready for the journey?

Melvin doesn’t answer. The women wait.

No, Melvin says at last. I am not ready.

The women make noises of alarm, and some look about to speak.

Then Melvin says: But I am coming with you.

The women smile and sigh with relief. Greta says, Yes, who of us can say we’re ready, after all?

I can, says Salome.”

Three things are happening in this statement. First, it reveals that the women are willing to act, even if they are afraid and feel unprepared. Second, the women’s reaction when they believe Melvin might not be coming reveals the strong sense of community that has developed among them. Finally, Agata’s use of Melvin’s chosen name—one that allows Melvin to feel removed from the violence that surrounds them—reveals Agata’s evolution as a character. At the beginning of the novel, Agata (and Greta) refused to acknowledge or accept Melvin’s desire to no longer be a woman; as they end their deliberations and prepare to leave the colony, Agata honors Melvin by using the chosen name.

“But you’re not fleeing, I said. You’re not rats running from a burning building. She laughed again. That’s right, she said. We’ve chosen to leave.”

Repeating what the women have stated before, August reinforces the agency he sees in the women. Salome’s laughter reveals that she is now comfortable with the decisions the women have made and is optimistic about their future. August’s use of rats as a metaphor does not disturb Salome, revealing that she (and the other women) knows they are not animals, and that is what is important.

“I thought: I have come to Molotschna as a last resort, for peace and to find my purpose, and the women have left Molotschna for the same reasons.”

August’s musings after the women leave reveal his transformation from suicidal to purpose-driven. He understands his journey is not to leave but to stay and reclaim his agency among the men.