“You’re not alone. That’s part of the reason I don’t talk about it. If you haven’t lived as part of a similar community, it’s hard to imagine what it’s like, but the pressure to stay and conform is enormous.”

“The Mennonites aren’t as strict as the Amish, are they?”

“Not really. But it can be hard to tell the difference between them, especially because they can dress and look so much alike.”

“Are the pictures shown in the media accurate?”

“If they depict the men with a bowl cut and a beard—but no mustache—wearing black pants, any color of shirt and a straw hat. The women wear long dresses with aprons and bonnets and put their hair in a bun each day.”

His eyes widened. “That’s how you dressed?”

“Of course.”

“But dresses can be so impractical.”

“They symbolize the gender roles. By wearing a dress, a woman shows her submission to God, and to men in general—and to her husband in particular.”

“That’s so...opposite to how I’ve been taught to think about women.”

“It doesn’t sit right with me, either. But I never fit in. I couldn’t believe what they believed—not only about a woman’s role but that God cared about whether or not I owned certain technologies or wore colorful clothing or wanted to be an actress instead of a stay-at-home wife and mother.”

He rubbed his chin as though he was considering what she’d told him. “How have your parents responded to you becoming an actress? I can’t imagine they were excited about it.”

She winced. “Definitely not. They think I’m going to Hell. When I told them becoming an actress wasn’t just a childhood dream, that I meant to move to LA and take acting lessons...” She let her voice drift away as she remembered that night. Mennonites didn’t practice shunning quite like the Amish. But her parents had threatened to disown her. And for the first five years, they’d made good on that promise. She assumed they thought it would eventually force her to bend to their wishes and come back. But she was so relieved and happy to be free at last, she knew she’d never do that, and eventually, they called to tell her about the birth of her sister’s fourth child, and she started communicating with them again, on a limited basis. “It was rough,” she continued, knowing even as she said the words what an understatement that was. It’d almost torn her heart out. She’d had to leave everyone she knew and loved and accept that they would not think well of her. “I stayed for eight months after that, trying to ‘get the devil out of me’ once and for all, while they prayed for my soul, but I guess the devil wouldn’t depart, as they say.”