Once a year or so, or perhaps more frequent as it was in 2020, I ask myself the same question: Do I want to be a nun or do I just need some space? I don’t think I’ve earnestly considered nunhood before but I still pose this question to myself. No, it’s simply just space that I need. Not just access to open natural space that’s clean and true, but space away from my very American 21st century life. Space from traffic sounds and helicopters, space from competitive career objectives, space from endless emails, space from the seasonal debate between my apartment’s ants and my sanity. When I think about how I can cultivate space in my life, I think about people I’ve met that have made their own form of space. The professor I had in college who lived 3 hours from campus and lived off-the-grid in the mountains (or as off-the-grid as a professor with 2x/week classes can be) knew the power of open space. The devout Quaker I met, also while I was in college, who bound herself to minimalism and frugality well before it was trendy knew the power of fostering space. And the Shakers, an egalitarian Christian sect from early 1800s America who founded a communal society in my home state, also knew the power of creating space. While it’s more likely I’ll end up like the wild professor in the mountains, I can dream of being a 19th century Shaker. If only for a moment.
I fondly remember visiting Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill, a paused moment in time about a 2-hour drive from my hometown. I visited Shaker Village with my family when I was really young, maybe 6 or 7, and felt what I can only describe as a child’s perspective of peace. I’m a believer that you don’t know some feelings until you move through their absence, like joy, true love, or confidence. Peace is one of these. But even at such a young age, Shaker Village imprinted on me an early idea of simplicity and space. Much later I learned that the Shakers are considered one of the first successful utopian communities in America. No wonder I still feel drawn to it.
The Shakers’ core beliefs originated from an illiterate English woman called Mother Ann Lee, who in 1770 claimed to have a vision from God that showed her, among other things, that Christ’s second coming would be as a woman. It’s not clear if the Shakers believed Mother Ann was a prophet or truly the second coming she spoke of, but nonetheless a small group of believers emigrated with her from England to America just a few years later. Shakers believe in communal living, regular confession of sins, and separation from the outside world. Labor was regarded as a divine right, something to uphold and rigorously pursue. This created a robust and diversified economy for the Shakers with multiple streams of income to support their way of life. Shakers are notoriously fine artisans and builders, as well as farmers with an early eye towards sustainability. The Shakers also, famously, believe in celibacy. (To add context, Mother Ann gave birth to four children who all died either in infancy or early childhood. Her mother also died in childbirth, which educated Mother Ann’s attitude towards childbearing). Most historians acknowledge bearing children into a religion is a key factor in the religion’s lifespan (hello Mormon households of 20+ children) so the Shaker’s staunch belief in celibacy is likely what led to their own downfall. The last remaining active Shaker village is in Maine and has only three members but they are (reportedly) still actively recruiting.
The Shaker village of my childhood is Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill. It formally began in 1805 after a few early Shaker converts travelled by foot from New York to Kentucky. After converting a few locals and purchasing land, they named their hilltop Pleasant Hill (apt description) and began building. It was one of 21 communities established by the Shakers and eventually the third largest with almost 500 members. And it’s not unreasonable that families in the early 1800s found the Shaker way of life desirable. These were farmers and laborers who quickly realized the utility in depending on one another. Nestled in rolling hills next to the Kentucky River, Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill would be an easy choice for any faith-questioning means-seeking 19th century Kentuckian. In 1821 the Shakers officially penned their first written document of beliefs/rules called The Millennial Laws, an effort to better unify their growing number of villages. And by 1823, Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill had approximately 4.5K acres of land with active efforts in conservation and agricultural advancements. In fact, one of the earliest municipal water systems in Kentucky was created by the Shakers.
Shakers in general were great toilers and makers; the mighty Tabitha Babbitt of the Harvard Shaker Village in Massachusetts invented both the circular saw and false teeth. Shakers were even awarded a medal at the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition for the fine craftsmanship of their ladder back chair. For those interested, there’s a Wikipedia page of their inventions. This reminds me of my “invention” for my 6th grade science fair where I zip tied a small handheld broom to its dustpan. Not only did I just purchase an extant object at the store, but I also rendered it functionally unusable. I think I got a C on the project. The Shakers and I differ in our innovative spirits.
The restored buildings at Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill give a glimpse into their belief in durability and simplicity. The Millennial Laws specified uniformity down to the paint color and roof shingles to be used on buildings. Clean lines were demanded; no frills and no fuss were the standard. It’s so interesting to see a religion’s values manifest physically. Yes, the Shakers believe in simplicity, and yes, their homes are literally as simple as functionally possible. It’s almost seamless, this transition from “what we believe” to “how we live.” It draws to mind the American mega-churches that seat thousands with pastors who have net worth in the millions. Regardless, the Shaker’s belief in celibacy also informed their architecture and design. They practiced completely separating people by gender, although we’re told women and men were deemed equals despite this separation. This resulted in common buildings like their gathering halls and churches to have totally separate entrances, staircases, and seating areas. Women and men were also boarded separately as well, with new families sometimes being split apart by gender upon conversion.
I remember on our tour being told this fact and feeling some childhood-like confusion that girls were “equals” but also shunted into the boring domestic jobs whereas the boys got to work outside and tend to the animals. But then I learned women outnumbered men in most Shaker villages and I had to question why. As a child, I may have come to the conclusion that maybe it wasn’t so bad if so many women voluntarily entered Shaker society. Plus, unless literally forced out of the village like some were, very few women left the village or faith on their own accord. As an adult woman now, I come to the same conclusion armed with a bit of historical perspective. For one, childbearing was forbidden in Shaker villages. The Shaker way of life was an out for women who didn’t see themselves in typical 19th century womanhood (which virtually demanded marriage and children to be deemed a valuable woman). Realizing it or not, Mother Ann Lee created space for American women to be their own versions of themselves. Or, at least, be her version of a woman which was pretty antithetical to the norm. Dress was standardized, jobs were assigned equally (among your gender), and a young woman’s free time was spent working rather than trying to get wed. Class and status held no weight in Shaker villages. The organization that currently preserves and maintains Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill has a great blog post about the attraction women had to Shaker villages. When American law at the time did not protect women (and, frankly, actively hurt them), Shaker beliefs offered a level of financial and social protection. At a time when interacting with men in most contexts presented a possible threat, Shaker solitude for women was a haven.
It’s probably not a shock to learn Shakers were also pacifists. When the Civil War broke out, Abraham Lincoln exempted Shakers from service; with this, they became one of the first conscientious objectors in America. While the Shakers did welcome people of color into their societies (and were, in some instances, active members of the Underground Railroad), their deliberate absence in the Civil War is disappointing. And the war was not easy for the Shakers. Abolitionists and secessionists alike were not friendly to them, especially at Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill being situated so clearly between the North and the South. After the war came leadership issues, debt, and new converts not necessarily dedicated to the Shaker belief in an obligation to work. Among these new converts were floods of widows with children, which is both a consequence and fact of the Reconstruction era. The 1860s began the downfall of Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill and by 1910 they officially shut down as an active religious society.
Today it is the largest National Historic Landmark in Kentucky and has a inn, restaurant, working farm, and offers daily tours. It also holds space for venues (including weddings, which is interesting considering the Shakers’ open contempt for betrothal). Located in a town affectionately now called Shakertown, Shaker Village has a healthy selection of activities for visitors. When my family visited in the early 2000s, we attended a music and dance worship service (of what I seem to recall were devoted reenactors and not actual Shakers), watched a broom making exhibit, and got to see candle-dipping displays deep in a shop. I remember the milky smell of soy and thinking about how I wanted to taste the melted candle wax. In hindsight, it did look a lot like white chocolate. My dad remembers going on a horse-drawn carriage ride during our visit and my sister remembers being told a salacious story about a woman and man leaving the village around the same time in the late 1800s and the rumors that went flying.
Beyond the candles and the old wooden buildings and the smell of what I later learned what fertilizer, what I remember most about our trip to Shaker Village was feeling like I stepped into a preserved moment in time. I was too young to ponder the ethical questions of putting a religion on display for tourists, too young to think about the economic choices even 19th century Shakers had to grapple with in order to survive. As a child in acres of open space, staring at a hundred year old building, being told people strived to live a perfect life in this very place, it was almost magical. I’m not saying I want to be a Shaker, nor do I think I’ll replace them in my annual question about becoming a nun, but I do deeply respect their sense of space. Their inventions were intentional, their buildings functional, their way of life simple, and their rules reasonable (kind of). The life they created in Kentucky and across America was both holistic and bespoke. They defied standard society and made their own utopia. Maybe utopia is one of these things like peace — you only really know you’ve been in utopia once you realize you’re no longer there.
All of this is to stay: I am jealous of the Shakers in the same way I am jealous of people who travel the world for a living. I can say oh how I think that life would be great while also realizing I would be miserable if that were me. Instead I’m choosing to get inspired by how others craft their own space, their own utopias. And, as always, I’m taking notes.
Jenny Winstead-Rodriguez 