Women Talking: You Know Something’s Gonna Go Down

Women Talking: You Know Something’s Gonna Go Down February 4, 2025

I found the following book in my neighborhood’s free little library a couple of months ago:

Women Talking by Miriam Toews

Even though I typically read fiction books on Kindle and Audible (a habit I am desperately trying to curb, so as not to support Mr. Bezos anymore), paperbacks are not out of the question.

That being said, Women Talking caught my eye. What’s not to love about eight Mennonite women who secretly gather in a hayloft every evening to decide whether or not they should stay in the only world they’ve ever known or take a chance and escape the shameful place?

In truth, the novel was truth. Based on true events of a Mennonite colony in South America whose women had been drugged and subject to rape for more than two years, a group of women rose up to decide whether or not they would save themselves (and the vulnerable) in the aftermath of the grave injustice.

What then transpires is a conversation of the women talking, of the decisions they make along the way, of the morality they wrestle with when it comes to their faith identity. 

As a self-described theology nerd, I loved learning more about the Mennonite tradition through the power of story. Even though the author’s style wasn’t my favorite (quotation marks were invented for a reason), I still walked away intrigued, eager to know and understand more.

And, as luck would have it, I also felt validated in thoughts similar to my own:

No, no, said the librarian, forgiven for being alive, for being in the world. For the arrogance and futility of remaining alive, the ridiculousness of it, the stench of it, the unreasonableness of it. That’s your feeling, she added, your internal logic. You’ve just explained that to me.

She went on to say that, in her opinion, doubt 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? (12)

As Miriam Toews writes, there is a ridiculousness and an unreasonableness, an arrogance and a futility of remaining alive.

But first, a story.

This morning, out on my morning walk with the dog, I ran into two of my neighbors. We chatted amicably, while Rufus sniffed and jumped and made his general human-loving presence known.

Just as we were in a conversation about dried chickpeas, another neighbor ran out of her front door.

“Good morning!” She bellowed, before coming over to join us. We said our hellos and made introductions; then the three women grabbed hands and began forming a circle.

“You want to join us?” One of the women asked me. I looked at them, dumbstruck, uncertain of what we were going to do at eight in the morning on a random street corner in Oakland.

“For what?” I replied.

“Why, we’re going to pray, of course,” one of the women replied.

I suppose I could have walked away but I didn’t; they may not have prayed how I tend to pray these days, but prayer is prayer. Who was I to say no?

Image by Couleur from Pixabay

We joined hands. They bowed their heads. I kept one eye closed and one eye open, for Rufus was still sniffing and jumping and making his general human-loving presence known.

We thanked God for waking us up and getting us out of bed; for another day on this glorious planet made up of greens and blues and browns, and for the honor of calling this fine city our own.

In a way, we were thanking God for the ridiculousness and the unreasonableness, the arrogance and the futility of being alive on the Earth this day.

We were leaning into a rich existence, another way of being in the world, when doubt and uncertainty and questioning are inextricably bound together with faith.

Is it too much to say that I questioned whether or not I should stand in the middle of the sidewalk, bow my head, and pray?

Believe in God I do, but pray out loud on street corners I am not generally prone to do these days.

I think, rather ironically, about the many twists and turns in the life of faith: twenty years ago I would not batted an eye at the thought. Pray in the middle of the sidewalk? Yes, please!

For me, when belief was marked by white evangelicalism, we prayed in broad daylight because we earnestly believed in a God that met us anywhere, anytime, but also because we needed others to see these outward expressions of faith.

We met together in groups, big and small, and in this groups, we shouted and whispered and spoke aloud our prayers. We memorized bible verses just so we could insert them into our prayers, just so we could pray through them with our prayers.

This is not to say what I experienced as a young, twenty-something evangelical is what these older Black women experience today.

But it is to muse over the many twists and turns of faith and of those sidewalk prayers we earnestly engage in today — even if the moment catches us by surprise, even if we feel a little caught off guard in the moment. 

So, what can I say? Read Talking WomenSee if any plot lines catch you by surprise. Find the God who is present in-between the pages.

Happy reading!

c.

If you liked this post, you also might like my bookish thoughts on Whistling in the Dark or Composing a Life. 

About Cara Meredith
Cara Meredith is a writer, speaker, and part-time development director. The author of The Color of Life (Zondervan) and the forthcoming Church Camp (Broadleaf), she gets a kick out of playing with words. A lot. You can read more about the author here.
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