There is another, much darker side to the history of the strict traditional Mennonite colonies of Paraguay.
This is not a story about all Mennonites or every Mennonite family. Many are loving, hardworking and deeply committed to their families. But in a society built around obedience, religious authority, conformity and family reputation, women and children could be particularly vulnerable when abuse occurred.
There are documented cases of sexual abuse within Paraguayan Mennonite families. In one case in Lolita, Presidente Hayes, a Mennonite father was convicted of sexually abusing his eight-year-old daughter and sentenced to four-and-a-half years in prison. Importantly, it was his wife who reported him, reminding us that Mennonite women should never simply be portrayed as powerless victims.
And abuse is not exclusively committed by men. Women can also abuse, and children can be harmed by anyone who holds power or authority over them.
The deeper issue is what happens when abuse occurs inside a very close community where family, church, neighbours, school and social standing are all intertwined?
Where do you go when the person you fear is also the person you depend upon?
And what happens when that person is respected?
Obedience and control
Traditional Paraguayan Mennonite colonies developed strong systems of internal authority and self-government and remained relatively separate from wider Paraguayan society. Marriage, sexuality, family and community belonging were closely regulated.
Sexual behaviour was particularly strict. Historical accounts describe sex outside marriage as a serious religious offence and an expectation of virginity until marriage. In the Fernheim colony, even in the 1980s, a young woman who had sex before marriage could face public consequences, including being required to marry without the traditional headdress and veil.
Her sexuality was therefore not simply considered private. The community could judge it.
And when obedience is taught from childhood, challenging a parent, religious leader or respected member of the community can be extraordinarily difficult.
The fear may not only be of the abuser.
It may be fear of what happens if you speak.
The real issue is power
There is also a story about the traditional wedding night that I was told by a senior member of the Progressive Mennonite community — that, in the old traditional mennonites, the highest religious authority has a role in the wedding night of a newly married couple.
And that brings us to the uncomfortable question
What happens when people are given enormous authority and everyone else is taught that obedience is a virtue?
What happens when questioning religious authority can feel like questioning God?
What happens when protecting the reputation of a family or community becomes more important than listening to the person who has been harmed?
These are not uniquely Mennonite problems. They can occur anywhere power is concentrated and vulnerable people are afraid to speak.
But in a close community, where leaving may mean losing your family, friends, church and entire social world, silence can become extraordinarily powerful.
Compassion without looking away
I don’t tell this part of the story with anger towards Mennonite people. I have met kind, generous and welcoming Mennonites here in Paraguay, and I have also seen how some lives and beliefs are changing with the modern world.
But compassion does not mean pretending the darker history didn’t exist.
The traditional colonies offered faith, family, community, security and remarkable resilience.
They also demanded obedience, conformity and submission to authority.
And wherever there is great authority, there must also be great responsibility.
Because the child who cannot speak, the wife who is frightened to speak and the young person who has been taught that obedience comes before their own voice are the ones who most need someone to listen.
They should never have been the ones expected to carry the shame.