How Amish Treat Homosexuality in Their Communities
This is a question that has come up many times over the course of this channel, and it’s one that I know will upset some people, though likely for different reasons. So, what is the Amish perspective on homosexuality? In short, they consider it a sin. Because of that, you won’t find someone who is openly gay and still accepted as a member in good standing within the Amish church.
That said, it should go without saying that there are certainly people in the Amish community who experience same-sex attraction, just as there are in any group of people. So, how do the Amish view that reality? And what happens to those individuals? So, before we can even touch on that, you’ve got to understand how the Amish live.
They come from Swiss Anabaptist roots, deeply religious, committed to staying separate from the rest of the world, and following the Bible to the letter. Their lives run on something called the Ordnung. Not written down, but everyone knows it. It covers everything. What you wear, how you work, what you use, even your sexual identity.
In their world, the ideal life is traditional. Men lead and provide. Women are mothers and homemakers. Marriage between a man and a woman isn’t just common, it’s expected. Anything else? It’s not just different, it’s sinful, dangerous. And here’s the kicker, people don’t talk about sex at all.
No sex ed, no books about identity, no safe space chats. If you do feel different, you probably can’t even name it. You just know. It’s something you’d better hide. And for most, hiding becomes the only way to survive. But what happens when hiding isn’t an option anymore? That’s where things turn serious and painful. For most Amish teens, growing up is about learning the ropes.
How to work, how to dress, how to prepare for marriage. But for a few, it’s also when they start realizing they’re different. They might not know the word gay. They might not know what LQBT even means, but they know enough to feel afraid. Because in Amish culture, going against the norm isn’t just breaking the rules, it’s rebellion against God.
And in that world, rebellion comes with a price. If someone starts avoiding dating, refuses to marry, or worse, gets caught in a same-sex relationship, word spreads, fast. Everyone knows everyone, and privacy is basically impossible. The first step is usually a private talk with a bishop or elder. They’ll call it spiritual guidance, but to the person being questioned, it can feel a lot like an interrogation.
They’ll be urged to confess, repent, and turn away from those feelings. If they admit they’re gay, or even refuse to deny it, the pressure ramps up. They’re told to renounce it, pray for forgiveness, and live a pure life. Sometimes, they’re pushed into dating someone of the opposite sex, whether they want to or not.
And if they refuse, if they say, “This is who I am,” the consequences get harsh. That’s when excommunication comes into play, getting removed from the church. And then comes shunning. Family, friends, neighbors, everyone stops talking to you. Your parents won’t eat with you. Your siblings turn away. You’re alive, but it’s like you’ve died in their eyes.
For someone who’s grown up with their entire world wrapped around family and community, that kind of isolation is crushing. Some try to hide who they are forever. Others, they leave. But leaving means walking out with no money, no high school diploma, no real knowledge of the outside world. Just stepping into a place they were raised to believe is dangerous and sinful.
And yet, some still do it. Leaving the Amish isn’t like moving out of your parents’ house, it’s ripping a piece of yourself away. For someone who’s realized they’re gay, staying means living in secrecy, shame, and constant fear. Leaving means stepping into a completely foreign world.
They often walk away with almost nothing. No phone, no support. Sometimes, they don’t even know how to use public transportation or open a bank account, but they leave anyway, because the pain of pretending is worse than the fear of the unknown. At first, the outside world can be overwhelming, loud, fast, confusing, but it’s also freeing. For the first time, they can explore who they are.
They can find people like them. They can breathe without fear. The cost, though, is huge. Most lose all contact with their families. Birthdays pass with no calls. Parents might never meet their partners or their children. Some families come around after years. Others never do. And life outside isn’t automatically easy. Loneliness, depression, even homelessness, these are real struggles many face.
The wounds from being shunned don’t heal overnight. But over and over, people say the same thing, “It’s worth it.” Because living openly, loving who you love, that’s a peace they never thought they’d get. Some share their stories publicly. Some join groups to help others making the same journey.
A rare few even reconcile with their families. Their courage says something powerful. Identity, love, and freedom are worth the fight, even if it means starting from scratch. And here’s the hard truth. There are still people inside Amish communities right now living in silence, scared to death, and wondering if they’ll ever get to be themselves.
This isn’t just about culture, it’s about people. People born into a world where love comes with limits, where identity gets buried, and where survival often means silence. The Amish way is built on tradition, faith, and community. But for LGBTQ folks, it can also be a place of quiet suffering. Some hide, some leave and lose everything.
A few find some middle ground, but none of those paths are easy. This isn’t about judging, it’s about making sure the voices inside that world are heard. If this story made you think, please share it. Stories like these rarely see the light, and the people living them deserve to be seen. Hit like, subscribe, and drop a comment. I’d love to hear your thoughts, especially if you’ve experienced something similar, or know someone who has.
