2023: A Year in Review

What I loved + learned this year

A friend jokingly asked me the other day why so many of my header-images involve nature when I am not, shall we say, outdoorsy¹. I told her that it was because that’s how I want Letters From a Catholic Feminist to feel: like we’re all sitting around a campfire, sipping wine out of enamel mugs and sharing stories. I want it to feel like a reworded space, where our truest selves are given the space to bloom and grow and seek light.

2023, I think, achieved that. We covered a lot of ground.

We started the year by talking about the pro-life movement and where it is in a post-Roe world. We then talked about three Christians I love dearly: CS Lewis, St. Peter, and Mama T.

I personally loved celebrating International Women’s Day by discussing the women left out of the women's movement, and also highlighting a group frequently left out: prostituted women. (Actually, I wrote about that a lot this year.)

Elizabeth Hansen wrote an incredible guest piece on her complex feelings over her time at Franciscan University. We talked about how the small things (like my school board race) are the big things (like a presidential campaign). We talked about women’s healthcare (a lot) (a lot, guys) and my friend Missy shared about her hysterectomy journey.

I watched some things and had to tell you about them, like the Duggar documentary and Oppenheimer. You all tried to convince me to watch Barbie and failed, but it’s on my to-do list for January.

I made some of you upset when I compared Joel Osteen to deconstructed Christians, but we luckily don’t refer to each other as those idiots at church.

I often feel vaguely awkward when someone asks what I do for a living, and I usually follow up the words Letters From a Catholic Feminist with a tension-killing chuckle and a sarcastic “yeah, we never talk about anything controversial.” We didn’t stray away from hard topics this year, covering everything from gaslighting to Israel to abortion.

The year wrapped up with our most popular letter yet: my reaction to Matt Fradd interviewing Dr. Carrie Gress on why feminism is, in her view, demonic.

Personally, this was a year of immense spiritual movement for me.

I honestly think that in 32 years (and change) of life, 2023 has been the most spiritually impactful. I don’t want to say I had spiritual growth, because it wasn’t really linear; it was more like my faith life was ricocheting all over the place in fits and spurts but I’ve ended the year more in awe of Jesus than when I started it. I got farther from my self and closer to the Holy Spirit. I asked hard questions and got dirt under my fingernails and one time I sat in my spiritual director’s office and cried for, I kid you not, like 40 minutes straight without saying anything but “my life feels hard.”

I had to again learn who, and whose, I am. Mostly I learned that this isn’t some kind of destination you reach where you’re allowed to kick off your shoes and relax; learning it is truly my life’s work and I’ll never have to stop practicing it day in and day out.

2023 was my year of:

CS Lewis: I read Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce, The Abolition of Man, and probably 10 essays of his. We plan to do The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe on audio with our littles this spring and I can’t wait for them to meet Aslan.

Baking: I was already into sourdough but I significantly upped my game this year with flavored breads (I make a coffee one that’s *chef’s kiss* from this book) and trying to bake my kids homemade sourdough toast, cake rolls, and waffles for after school snacks. My cake rolls still crack, but I’m aggressively working on it. The littles aren’t complaining. ;) It brings me a strange amount of delight to get up really, really early and proof some dough and weigh out flour and sugar. I don’t know if it’s the tactile nature of the practice or the delicious result but I just feel more myself when I get something in the oven².

Local advocacy: When we decided to send our kids to public school, my husband + I committed to attending local school board meetings. I went to most of them, spoke at two, and advocated for changes to our reading curriculum. I also did a lot of research on trafficking within Milwaukee and hope to continue learning about how prostitution is affecting the nearest big city to me in the coming year. I took the kids grocery shopping for donations to our local food pantry, and we had a lot of conversations about gratitude, proximity, and serving our neighbor.

Therapy: How millennial of me, no? It’s embarrassing to admit that I was still really struggling with therapy-is-for-needy-whiners stereotypes at the beginning of this year…and in my worst moments, I still am. I’m a sinner, what can I say? But I’m learning about how our attachment schemas affect our ability to understand our emotions, and how we can utilize prayer to help regulate our nervous systems, and all of those hip of-the-moment things that are actually really, really helpful. My ego has taken a big ole punch in the face, which, yes, is related to the spiritual impact of the year.

Amanda Cook: This particular worship singer was probably my #1 listen; if I had Spotify I’d do one of those wrapped-playlist-thingamajig’s to check. I tried to convince Shannon to sing “Pieces” on the New Feminism Pilgrimage and she said it was too “belty”, which makes it not great for a pilgrimage but really great for long sad-girl walks.

Mothering: Even though I increased my childcare this year, I feel like I dove so much deeper into motherhood. In fact, I think it’s because I increased my childcare—when I’m working, I’m working, and when I’m not, I’m not! My kids are really high-energy and can be draining to my introvert self, but by slowing down the pace of life and really trying to pay attention to their sweet faces I just feel like I’m in a good #MomEra. I went on a walk with my 2-year-old the other day with no point or purpose—we just meandered around the neighborhood, inspecting our neighbors’ lawns and talking about Daniel Tiger. It was the best part of my week. More time away from them also means that I have more patience to answer 19 questions a minute when we’re together—man, kids are curious.

Substack: The more I write on this space, the happier I am to be here. It gives me all the best Dorothy-Day-writing-her-column vibes and I’m thankful that I was able to ditch both Twitter and the Catholic Feminist Instagram this year. I read a ton of ‘stacks—I love Christian ones for sure, but I also love how much great food and travel writing there is on Substack! I especially love newsletters from expats, so if you have any favorites, let me know in the comments.

Friend, if you’re a free subscriber, I want to take a moment to intentionally invite you to upgrade your subscription.

On January 1, Letters From a Catholic Feminist is increasing our price to six bucks a month. If you’re already subscribed, don’t freak—you get locked in at the price you subscribed at³. So if you’re interested in subscribing for 2024, I highly recommend doing it now at only five bucks a month (or fifty five bucks a year) instead.

While making this offer, I considered why I personally pay for a handful of substacks. The reasons aren’t really that I desperately need the extra content (although I enjoy it) or that I think the articles will change my life (although some will certainly have an impact). It’s that I want the writers’ work to exist in the world, and I want them to focus on making more true + thoughtful pieces vs. making Instagram reels to promote those pieces. I want to live in a world where writers are paid a living wage, and I’m happy to help pay to achieve that world. I also read far more newsletters than is prudent for me to pay for. So if you want to stick around as a free reader, I am delighted you’re here and I will continue to commit to at least one free letter a month.

When you sell something in the world, a lot of marketers teach you to lean into the pain points of those you’re asking for money from. Like, if I want to sell you a mop, I might talk about how dirty your floors are, and that your kids track cheerios everywhere, and don’t you want a nice clean, sparkly house to show what a good wife and mother you are?! But that feels so shady to me, since I sell a spiritual product. This newsletter isn’t going to save your soul. If you have spiritual pain, I am so, so sorry, and I desperately hope you find the resources you need. I am not going to shame you into spending money, or use your pain to pressure you into buying something from me. These letters might help you, and they might not. This is not a mop, and there is no money-back guarantee. All I can say is that they have helped some people grow closer to God, and they might do the same for you.

I put the majority of my work behind a paywall because a) the childcare I have to pay for in order to create good work makes it the most prudent decision to do so and b) I find that the conversations we can have in the comments section are so much more fruitful that way. When people are invested in being a space, they often bring their best non-trolly selves to it. I did ad-based work for a long time on the Catholic Feminist Podcast (2017-2020); I much prefer this subscription-based system and I’ve heard from many of you that you do as well.

Full subscribers do get exclusive access to our entire archives, our booklists, our summer read-along, and lots of other Catholic feminist goodness. So if you’re passionate about Jesus and justice, if you can’t sit through one more pro-life talk where the speaker drones on and on about the responsibilities of women without even once mentioning the fatherhood crisis, or if you believe we need a holistic revolution around women’s healthcare…please prayerfully consider upgrading.

Happy New Year and Merry Christmas, my friends. I’m grateful for you. Go in peace, and I’ll see you(r inbox) in 2024.

On My Nightstand 

• When Good Catholics Vape In Your Face: I loved this piece from Sarah on “good” Catholics and how they influence others to leave the church. “Call me crazy but I imagine that uppity cosmopolitans vaping and sniggering about their own raunchy political incorrectness over $20 pinot noir are uniquely unable to—what was it again … oh right—proclaim good news to the poor, bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to captives, you know, those things Jesus talked about.”

• Middlemarch by George Eliot: You guys, I need to fess up. I don’t like Middlemarch. I started out enjoying it but it’s just…so long, and there’s so much arguing about who is the town doctor, and I just don’t think I can stomach the rest of it. If you’re obsessed with this book, please convince me why I should continue in the comments.

• Coming Clean by Seth Haines: I did, however, enjoy this book on a Catholic convert’s first few months of sobriety. Seth writes about how we all have addictions, and his book made me pause and think of what mine are and how often I use them to numb discomfort. A great read.

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In case you missed these Letters:

• What We’re Waiting For - for subscribers

• How to Be Thankful When Things Kinda Suck - for subscribers

• What a Tradwife Influencer Taught Me - for everyone

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1. I love that scene in 27 Dresses where the sister claims she’s outdoorsy because she likes flowers and tanning. I’m outdoorsy because I like drinking margaritas on boats and reading in hammocks.

2. Some of you are reading this, like, huh? But listen—some of you birdwatch. Some of you go to Burn Boot Camp. Freaks! All of us!

3. Not trying to be a sleazy salesperson—this is literally how Substack works