As I pulled into my driveway from a busy day shopping yesterday, my path to the garage was blocked by several bicycles, a handful of children and a red wagon. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen that red wagon out of the garage and in the driveway
, on the sidewalk, in front of a neighbor’s house, in the street and rolling down the street and sidewalks full of children. After spending more money than I should have on Christmas presents, it occurred to me that this wooden wagon was worth every penny I paid for it three years ago; nothing I had just purchased for Christmas would be more used, appreciated or treasured by any of our four younger children than this old wagon. It’s the neighborhood toy of choice. Our children (ages 6-12) and dozens of neighborhood children (ages 4-14) never cease to find different uses for this wagon. It’s kept many a child happy and active in our world with its durable construction and versatile functionality. The wagon was built to last. Ironically, so was the memory of its purchase.
Many of our possessions come with stories. This wagon is one such possession.
Three years ago, I went to visit one of my closest friends in Ohio. We traveled to the Country Variety Store in Bellefontaine, Ohio where she 
purchased her favorite bread, and I perused all the offerings of an Amish general store. After stocking my cart full of every seasoning, spice and herb I could find (for my husband, the gourmet chef), I wandered out front to look at the wood-crafted items on display, waiting for my friend. They had these red, wooden wagons that caught my eye, but they were too expensive for a “just because” kind of gift for kids. (When you have 7 children, you have 7 annual birthday parties and an overwhelming burden at Christmas, so “just because” gifts – which have to be fairly distributed – are very rare in our family.)
At the end of the week with my friend, I found myself still thinking about the wagons at the Amish store. I called my husband, discussing the value of such an item and all the ways the children (and we) could use it. At this time in our lives, we had a justification for the purchase beyond its use as a toy for the children. We were living in a high rise apartment, parking underneath the building and bringing groceries up in the elevator, so a sturdy wagon proved a very useful asset for us. My husband gave the green light, and on my way out of Ohio back to Milwaukee, I stopped at the Amish store. This time I was alone. I later wished I wasn’t.
I walked in and immediately went to the counter to request assistance with the wagons. The kind Amish lady summoned an Amish man from the back (a man who appeared to be her father). He was awkwardly friendly as he escorted me through the store and out front to pull out the wagons and answer my questions. He was strangely much friendlier af
ter we were outside alone together, offering me far more information on the wagons than I had requested. I made my decision (going with the larger wagon) and went inside to pay for my purchase as he disassembled part of the wagon so it would fit in my car. When I returned, he was ready to load it. I helped him load it, positioning myself on the opposite side of the car to pull the wagon in from one side as he pushed the wagon in from the other. As we finished and I began to thank him for his assistance, he approached me closely and said he wanted to tell me something. I was caught off guard, but politely said, “Sure. What is it?” With a now stern and clearly confrontational demeanor (the opposite of the almost flirting behavior he had been displaying up until this point while outside alone with me), he told me that his son works at his store…his teenage son…and that for a young man like his son, I would cause temptation. Out of respect for the temptation that I might cause for “his son,” he told me that he would appreciate it if I would wear modest clothing when making future visits to his store. He specifically stated that what I was wearing was revealing some cleavage and is inappropriate attire for patrons of his store.
I was flabbergasted. Literally in shock. And most notably, emotionally shaken. I had no concept that I was dressed inappropriately; no idea that he was uncomfortable with or hostile about how I looked; and no clue that I wasn’t a welcomed and valued customer…until this man initiated this conversation with me at the end of my transaction. I honestly don’t remember what I said to him, but I’m sure it was apologetic in nature, submissive in tone and ashamed in body language. I couldn’t leave that store fast enough. No sooner did I get in my car, I was crying and calling my friend whose house I had just left. “Was I dressed inappropriately when I left today?” I asked her. “No. Not at all. Why?” I proceeded to tell her the story. The more I thought about it, the more my emotions changed from feeling victimized to feeling angry. My tears continued to flow, but they switched from shame and embarrassment to frustration and helplessness. As I felt more empowered, there was nothing I could do to stand up for myself and rectify the situation. I was on my way home to Wisconsin with a wagon in the back seat. What was I going to do? Head back to the Amish store in Ohio to return the wagon? I thought about it, but I just went home with a feeling of unresolved conflict.
Here I am, three years later, looking at the wagon and thinking about this experience. So much so, that I’m compelled to write about it. I’ve since thought a lot about the encounter with the Amish man, blending that experience with the exposure in my life to many conservative Christian environments in which I have been inundated with the notion that it is my responsibility as a woman to not cause a man to stumble by my appearance or dress. Here’s what I have concluded:
The Amish man was struggling with his own sexual desires. My appearance was a temptation to him. It was his problem, not mine. Directing his inner frustration at me via his verbal affront was wrong. His store is open to the public, and if female customers were required to abide by a certain dress code before shopping in his store, he should have that posted in front of his store or in some way notify patrons BEFORE they enter, spend a long time alone with him and then purchase one of his most expensive products.
The Christian men whom I have been taught to protect from themselves are responsible for the
mselves. For many years I felt the pressure to take on this responsibility for men, and I was obsessively concerned with a pursuit of the impossible – making sure I didn’t cause a man to stumble in his thoughts. I was instructed to never wear anything (clothing, make-up or hairstyle) that might contribute to a man’s struggle with sexual thoughts. I’ve since concluded, this is hogwash. I could wear turtlenecks and long skirts, doing my best to hide any of my curves from men who might be tempted by seeing them, but men will still be tempted. The core issue is their thoughts and inclinations, not my appearance. It is not a woman’s responsibility to keep a man from being tempted. It is a man’s responsibility to deal with his sexual desires without accosting a woman: verbally, religiously or physically.
I’m no longer angry at the Amish man. He hurt my feelings and made me feel ashamed when I had no reason to feel ashamed. But I realize that he was struggling with his own inner battle. I understand inner battles. We all have them. But understanding inner battles and absorbing the blows of someone’s inner battles are two different things. I am wiser and stronger now. If this interaction were to take place in my life today, I would politely tell the Amish man that he should have notified me of his discomfort with my attire before he spent so much time alone with me, indulging his thoughts, looking at me and then taking my money for the wagon. I would instruct him to remove the wagon from my car by himself (without my assistance) while I removed myself from his presence. I would calmly obtain my refund, drive home without the wagon and make sure I never returned to that store again.
The good news is, I grew from this experience and my kids have a quality wagon that has entertained and occupied dozens of children from Wisconsin to Tennessee. I highly recommend this durable, sturdy, versatile wagon for any household with children, available online from DurableToys.com [not an affiliate link]. I don’t, however, recommend the Amish Country Variety Store in Bellefontaine, Ohio from which I purchased this wagon. The wagon is good. The experience of purchasing it was not.
Photo credits: Allison Sumpter, rbatina, galenfrysinger.com and liliesapparel.com
