New Voices: By and about young adults

These last few months I’ve been sitting quietly with this question: Do I fit in the Mennonite church? Is there a place for me here? Before you assume this article ends with a resolution of my doubt, let me reassure you that it does not. I never imagined I’d arrive to this place, and I invite you into my struggle.

Maybe my original Mennonite optimism was born when I recognized the strides the church had already overcome when I met other female church leaders, and I knew that with great pains, women now were welcomed and invited to serve. This for me was a breath of fresh air, since I came from a different church experience.

Then there was multiculturalism and the tension I witnessed between Latinos and Anglo Mennonites. Even though that continues to be a rough and not terribly honest conversation, I still had some level of peace that this process would eventually find a working plateau to grow into. I looked forward to serving in this challenge of diversity.

But where I was sideswiped, where the big question about my identity around being a Mennonite faced its greatest challenge, was inexplicably something I could not completely change—my personality.

Last September, I was graciously given the opportunity to participate in the Values-Based Leadership Program. VBLP for the last 10 years has guided leaders within an Anabaptist perspective into the hard work of reflection and transformation informed by church/work communities into leaders who can stimulate and empower others around them. As part of the program, we completed a personal profile questionnaire that unveiled my tears, confusion and sorrow about who I am in the Mennonite church.

According to the profile, I was considered part of the quadrant known as Dominance. This means that I enjoy working through the challenges presented to me and through swift analysis can see a solution through which forward-moving action seems the best way to handle the situation.

I may frighten some, while others may say, “but we need people like you” (which I’ve heard many times). I’ve met people in the Germanic Menno­nite culture who identify themselves without apology with this personality as well. But the difference is this: Most of those people I’ve met are men. It’s a lot easier to accept a man like me than a woman. Whereas in church leadership positions I may have excelled, in community, we all failed. In a church where community building is a high value, my personality, with its inevitable blind spot of considering others, created an even greater need for conversations that may include confrontation and conflict.

As I’ve processed this, I’ve heard from other minority Mennonites that to be in this church, you must act tame. “Find yourself a small group to be all you are, but while doing church, you’re to be the quiet version of you and not make waves.” The problem is that when I show up, I bring the ocean. In a community where many are conflict avoiders, I unintentionally carry conflict in my back pocket. It’s just a part of who I am and not meant to be mean nor hurtful.

On a personal level, I unknowingly failed to cultivate and nourish relationships in ways most women do in my Mennonite congregation. Add to that that I’m an opinionated, in-your-face Latina and it’s easy to see how another wall has been erected. I’ve been in a lonely place for a long time.

Back to my original question. Can someone like me really be a part of this church? Can I be part of a community that refuses to fight for each other, which may mean fighting against each other to find our oneness again? How long can a community exist where there is fear of conflict or there are those who stay silent, sacrificing themselves for the others?

For now, I’m tired and finding God’s renewal strengthened within me through solitude and prayer. My future is uncertain, while my faith in Anabaptism remains strong. I hope I find others who are willing to join me in the honest mess of community, where conflict is welcomed and differences sought out.

Janet Trevino-Elizarraraz lives in San Antonio, Texas.