A few hours later, he answered: he was my brother. I had last seen him briefly when I was nine. At that time, he believed that he was our uncle and that our mom was his sister. I had known the truth and had tried to tell him. The whole thing was so confusing and he had laughed at me.
A few days later, we talked on the phone for about four hours. I learned that life with our grandmother had been hard. I do not want to tell his story here. Maybe one day he will tell it himself.
After our grandmother’s husband had died, he had found a box that had all of our birth certificates in it and he learned that our grandmother was not his mother. He also found one of the milk cartons his picture had been placed on all of those years before. My brother did not know where we were, so one day he got on the computer and, looking at my birth certificate, typed in my name. My Amazon author page popped up. There he saw one of the pictures Mom had taken up on the mountain. Mom had also sent some of those pictures to her mom so she could see that Fanny was okay. My brother recognized me in the picture.
From my brother, I learned that our father had been a big-time drug dealer in northern Arizona, and, last he had heard of Father, he was in prison. As far as he knew, he had been there for over twenty years.
My brother and I text often and send each other small videos. Amazing hardly describes these turns of events. I could not have fathomed even a small portion of this that day I sat down to write my memoir.
In the spring of 2017, I opened an email from agent extraordinaire, Abbie Williams. She had just read my book and told me how much she loved it and how much she hoped I was doing okay now. At the end of the email, she asked if I had an agent and if I did not, would I be interested in having one?
Although I was self-published, my memoir had already sold about 100,000 copies. I did not think I needed an agent; I was not even sure what an agent did. For some reason, I responded to her and said maybe. When we talked on the phone, she opened my eyes to the book world I was missing out on by not having my book out on store shelves where people could see it. I had never even tried to submit it to a publishing company.
Over the next few months, after listening to multiple editors, we decided that my memoir would need to be professionally edited for length, grammar, and content. This version barely scratches the surface of the extent of abuse I endured or witnessed. But it is enough to raise awareness about these issues.
Even though I balked when I first heard this critique, I eventually saw the wisdom in Abbie Williams’ and the other editors’ words. Some reviewers had written that reading about the constant abuse left them feeling numb and unable to continue reading. I realized that I needed help in understanding how to introduce these topics without completely horrifying the reader. It has been a long process, but Abbie has been the most loyal and encouraging person I could have had on this journey. She truly has been a Godsend and deserves all of the credit for making this polished version of Tears of the Silenced possible.
It was a sunny day in May 2018 and I blinked back an angry tear as I read a text from my Amish friend Sarah Graber. She is from a more liberal Amish church and every once in a while is able to get her hands on a friend’s cell phone from where she can text me.
“Have the police been out to check on the girls?” I had texted.
“No,” she had replied, a sad face emoji included.
It had been three weeks since she had told her friend about the sexual abuse in her community and that friend had called the police and reported the Amish man for sexually abusing his daughters, but the police had not even bothered to come out and check.
I’d met Sarah three months earlier; she had found my book in a little independent bookstore near her house. With her friend’s help, Sarah had found me on Facebook and messaged me.
I was shocked when I read her message:
I’m currently Amish. There’s been a family of nine or so kids and rumor had it over the years that he was molesting his kids. Of course, nothing ever came of it because he denied it and the ministers believed him … I found out from my friend whose husband is an uncle to these kids and they were so fed up with their father. Most of them are grown but he does have a school age daughter and a fifteen-year-old daughter. And that these two girls sleep with their furniture in front of their bedroom doors so their father can’t get in. So I tell my dad who is a minister that this stuff is indeed still happening. He said, well, the man denies it. I argued with him, then that’s where the Bann comes in that they love to misuse. And in my opinion the Bann belongs only to unrepentant sinners. But six months later and they haven’t made a move yet, but instead are coming after us with things.
My question was who do you go to when a case like this has been expertly pushed under the rug? How do you go about it so that no party involved—ministers and predator alike—cannot worm their way out?
I had closed my eyes after reading the message. What could I say?
Sarah was afraid that, if she went to the police, they would just come out and talk to the ministers. Most Amish communities have some sort of agreement with the police that, when they get a complaint, they will go see the ministers or a designated elder about the issue.
Sarah felt if the police came, the ministers would lie and say she was lying. But if it could be proved that Amish ministers knew about the sexual abuse and did not report it, they could go to jail for that.
The girls would never talk unless they were positive they could get out of the situation for sure. That much I knew from experience.
Sarah told me there was another man in their community who had molested his daughter and granddaughter. The Amish ministers had sent him to a counseling center that was run by Mennonites. After six months, he had been sent back home. The counseling center sent a letter along with the man saying that they did not want him to come back. If he reoffended, they would have to call the police. When he did reoffend, the ministers had not notified the authorities.
Sarah was not the first person who had contacted me about these heartbreaking cases among the Amish.
I had received an email from a person who was a driver for the Amish. This person showed up at an Amish farm to drive the father of a family somewhere. Since the driver had showed up early, he strolled into the barn where he found the father molesting his young son. The driver ran out of the barn and never returned. This person had a small local business that was supported in large part by the Amish and other local farmers. He was afraid if he reported this Amish man, he would go out of business.
Poor little boy. I did not have the address or I would have called it in myself, although I am not sure it would have done any good.
After messaging back and forth with Sarah Graber, I felt my exasperation growing. We just could not figure a way to get the police to go out and question the girls without them going to the minister’s first and alerting all parties involved.
I texted Sarah. “We have to raise awareness about this so that the police can no longer act like this does not happen among the Amish. There needs to be something big, something that will grab the nation’s attention about the severity of sexual abuse among the Amish.”
“I agree,” Sarah replied. “But what can we do?”
My memoir had sold over 100,000 copies by that time, yet, this was still happening.
“I have a Reddit account. It is supposed to be the biggest presence on the internet,” I texted back. “Maybe if I write some Reddit posts, it will grab some attention.
“Okay,” Sarah texted back from her friend’s phone. We were hopeful.
I made a few posts over the next weeks that got some attention but soon fizzled out. Then I decided to make a post on Reddit’s Ask Me Anything board. I posted about my own story then added the latest about Sarah’s story and invited everyone to ask me questions.
Sarah’s friend came over and she was able to watch as the questions started pouring in. I
worked feverishly to answer everything over the next eight hours or so. My Reddit post got over 300,000 views and was well received. But soon that fizzled out as well. I shrugged; I had raised some awareness at least. I did not know what else to do and neither did Sarah.
A couple of weeks later, I was contacted by a woman with Barcroft TV in London. She had seen my Reddit post and wanted to know if I would be willing to let them film a short documentary. They had over four million YouTube subscribers at the time and some of their videos have gotten over ten million views. My eyes flew open. This could be just the thing to bring that awareness we were hoping for.
The documentary Why I Ran Away from the Amish has now been released and is available on YouTube.
Now it is May 10th, 2018. I am typing up the last few paragraphs and have to get this sent to the editor. Yesterday, I texted Sarah’s friend’s phone to see if the police had showed up yet. After taping the documentary, this friend of Sarah’s had called the police.
A while later, Sarah texted back. “No.”
I had texted when I first heard. “There are minors in the house; they have to do something.”
But they had not.
It is so hard to stop sexual abuse among the Amish. I hope this memoir will educate law enforcement officers. It is so scary to report a sexual abuser only to be dismissed. And the fear of getting in trouble with church leaders keeps so many sexual assault victims from coming forward.
Every once in a while, brave people like Sarah Graber step forward and try to change things; unfortunately, they are often not listened to and eventually give up. One of Sarah’s sisters even told her that maybe the abuse was her fault, for being disobedient to the church. This is terrifying as it comes from a grown woman with children of her own.
But I know Sarah will not back down. There is support in numbers and now there are a few of us banded together.
It has been a long and painful road for me, but I feel blessed to have been given the opportunity to pursue my life’s dream. I will soon be graduating with my bachelor’s in nursing and then I plan on pursuing my master’s. I still hope to work in missions a few weeks a year. My life’s work seems to have taken a turn I did not expect. While my husband and I have not been blessed with children, we are still hoping.
I hope that anyone reading this book will feel inspired to pursue their own dreams and not let anyone dictate to them. In the end, you are accountable for how your life turns out. Do not ever let anyone make you feel you are less than worthy, for every man, woman, and child should have the same rights in this world. We were all born into the world the same way, and will all depart from it, one no better than the other.
If you are in an abusive relationship or situation, I beg you to take strength from my words and find a way out. The person abusing you does not have the right to hold you captive; they are doing so to make themselves feel superior. And if they are harming you, they will most likely harm someone else. The best way to stop bullies is to stand up to them and metaphorically kick them where it hurts the most.
The point of this book was not to just address problems with the Amish. I came out and told my story three years before Me Too and Times UP. Even though these movements have raised awareness, it has not done much to help sexual abuse victims in very strict religions. It is so hard to get victims from these communities to come forward because most have been sheltered from the outside world; they do not know how to live without their religious organization and, if they come forward, they will indeed face backlash and perhaps even be put out of their communities.
In conclusion, I am convinced that we all have the power to do better. I know there are many instances when I, myself, knowingly or unknowingly made mistakes. Often, I was not aware of the bad things that were happening until it was too late. On other occasions, I know I could have stopped certain crimes had I only acted at the right time, but I cannot change that now. I can only learn from these mistakes and share the wisdom I have gathered. I believe that bad people get away with heinous crimes because there are too many good people who look the other way. Imagine how much better it would be if good people stood up to the bad.
In reading this book, I hope teachers, nurses, doctors, and anyone else that may be in a position to recognize abuse will be more inclined to report it, and not merely write it off as an accident. For anyone else out there, if you suspect child abuse, please trust your instincts and find an excuse to drop by their place of residence to see if you can gain any additional knowledge about the matter. Do not shrug it off and tell yourself it is not your problem. I often think it would have only taken one person to save me and my sister from our living hell. For some other kid, you could be that person. Child abuse is one of the worst tragedies to plague the human race because our children are our most precious resource.
To police officers that read this, I hope that if an Amish person makes his or her way to your station, you believe what is being said. As you can see from my account, the price an Amish person pays for going to the police is severe. None of them would fabricate a story as a way to get back at someone.
I am quite fortunate to be here today. When I think back to my other life, I shiver. Sometimes, when I am alone at night and I hear the wind whistling through the trees, I remember my mountain home and how I was forgotten by the world. Many times, I have to blink to drown out Aunt Fanny’s face, and sometimes I can hear the screams from that mountaintop so plainly, it makes me tremble. I think of my Amish home and the desperateness of my situation there; I am often jolted awake from a haunting dream in which I never left the Amish. My story is tragic, but also amazing.
To everyone out there, I wish you courage and happiness, but above all, I wish for you to have the strength to stand up against the tyrants around you—those people that are bent on achieving their own desires without any regard for their fellow man. Never stop fighting for truth and justice. In doing so, you will make tomorrow a better place for someone, somewhere, and may God bless you for doing so.
A sweet child is born, a little star peeps
An abused child cries, the little star weeps
A child tortured with scars and blood so red
The little star weeps and hangs its head
—Misty Griffin
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Tears of the Silenced Page 32