To those of us who don't fit in

An essay on boxes.

This is a free edition of Letters From a Catholic Feminist. Enjoy!

Apparently I’m on an Abigail Favale kick because this is the third week in a row I’ve mentioned her in a letter. What can I say—I’m a fangirl.

When I saw this tweet from her a month or so ago, I cackled. Loudly. And retweeted immediately. I was joined by a thousand or so others.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. In my daughter’s beloved Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse, there’s a line that says Lilly was sad, but she thought and thought and thought and then she was angry, and then she thought and thought and thought and then she was furious. That’s what happened to me, I guess. I ran the gauntlet of emotions from giggly to perturbed to annoyed to irate, and I’m kind of walking back. I think I’m juuuust about back on giggly.

Because isn’t there something hilariously ironic about a thousand of us all saying we feel like the crabby dinosaur instead of the beautiful unicorn? What I’m getting at is this: why do so many of us feel so alone? 

A long time ago, I went to a Catholic conference for young adults where they played a horrendously gendered game. A guy and a girl had to come up and answer questions the other gender supposedly would know the answer to. Girls answered questions about Ninja Turtles and beer. Guys answered questions about shoes and haircare. I stood there and wondered why I paid $300 for this bullshit, as well as what gauchos were. After the idiocy ended, I spoke with a few other girls in attendance about it. We all agreed that it was outrageously dumb, that it was hurtful, that it was a waste of time. And in that little hotel Starbucks, I felt seen and known.

Women’s conferences get a bad rap, and oftentimes, I think they should. They are getting better. Work is being done. But for a while there…oof, I went to some doozies. Some talks where the main theme was why it’s unholy to stalk men on Facebook or why women are precious teacups whose virtue needs to be protected. Some where I was shamed for wearing leggings in the audience. Yikes. 

But how can we fix it? How can we host authentically feminine women’s retreats? Because, feminine: we shouldn’t be afraid of that word! It shouldn’t conjure up floral prints and aprons. There is something so holy and sacred about a group of women gathering. I firmly believe that women have something special: that new feminism JP2 proclaimed; I want to proclaim it, too. I don’t want to run screaming for the hills when a women’s event is mentioned. 

My relationship with women’s ministry can best be described as “It’s Complicated”. Because although I know there are women who have been served well by women’s ministries, when I look around, I don’t really see the woman’s ministry I want to see. One that’s completely orthodox and in line with the church, and talks about the hefty, heartfelt topics my wanderer-heart wants to talk about. One that welcomes women rocking veils and women who are brain surgeons and women who do both, because yes, they exist and need some ministry.

I have been the woman who felt shamed for not homeschooling. I have been the woman who felt shamed for having a job I love. I have been the woman who felt shamed for aligning with the church’s teachings on human sexuality. Why can’t we all just sit together and pray together and seek truth together, without furiously scribbling bigot or rad trad or Vatican 2 Catholic over everyone we meet? Has it ever occurred to you, angry person with the fists clenched tight, that the only way to change the mind of someone you consider a bigot is to open your mouth and talk to them and hear their story and pray with them and present your opinions and listen to theirs?

I am starving for nitty-gritty conversations, authenticity, and vulnerability. The good mess of dirt under my fingernails. The things we could do together, if we all just stopped arguing about whether moms should be able to nurse during Mass! This world somehow developed a COVID vaccine in, like, a year. A year! What if all the Church Women bound together and decided we were ending period poverty in a year? Ending domestic violence in a year? You’ve seen us throw together Christmas pageants and baby showers and marches. Believe you me, so many of us are already out there, trying to tackle some serious problems in the world, too.

I want the discomfort and the awkward tension.

I want the questions without easy answers.

I want the statistics and the data, and I want the heartfelt stories of lived experiences.

The church of Jesus is radically inclusive. It brings in not just the theologians or the mothers, not just the professional speakers with the perfectly straightened hair. It brings in women of all classes and melanin levels, women of all body types and vocations, women being women in the boardroom and the classroom and the kitchen and the garden. Some of the women doing the most ministry work are not the ones speaking on stages in front of thousands of people, not the ones writing Substacks, not the ones hosting pilgrimages. They’re the ones bringing the meals to the new moms and organizing the garage sales for the pregnancy help center.

What I have seen pop up lately is a lot of conferences, events, and ministries with a focus on deconstruction. So many of us have ideas or values we were brought up with that we now don’t align with at all. They feel hurtful, harmful, unholy. But I’m interested in constructing something, not flipping a middle finger to The Man. I’m not into a kum-ba-yah circle of relativists congratulating each other on following our hearts, either. That doesn’t feel truth-seeking to me. That feels like what I could get from a yoga retreat, minus the bending. I was given an intellect and I’d like to use it to seek truth.

I don’t fit into the rebellious, social-justice-warrior, New-Ways-Ministry, Joe-Biden-is-More-Catholic-Than-Pope-Benedict, gender-isn’t-real box. I thought I did, for a while, but I don’t. And I’m pretty sure they’ve kicked me out, anyway.

I also don’t fit into the angry, women-shouldn’t-work, Latin-Mass-ONLY, America 4ever, Pope-Francis-is-the-devil’s-handservant box. I always knew that wasn’t the place for me. I’m too opinionated, and I’m too moved by the needs of the marginalized.

And I know a lot of you don’t fit into those boxes, either. We’re looking around, arms wide open, seeking the orthodox Catholics who want to solve some problems in this messed up world because we love Jesus and we love our neighbor.

I was talking to my dear friend Sam the other day and we were lamenting that we still feel so lonely in the church, sometimes. This group doesn’t “like” me because I’m pro-life. That group doesn’t “like” me because I’m pro-refugee. This group doesn’t “like” me because I got the COVID vaccine. That group doesn’t “like” me because I won’t go on long rants about why everyone needs to get the COVID vaccine.* This group doesn’t “like” me because I say the f word. That group doesn’t “like” me because I think sex work is inherently abusive. And on, and on, and on, until I feel like that dinosaur in the photo, standing out awkwardly, looking for some pals.

So…what does my dream women’s conference look like? 

It looks like a place free of stereotypical games, or jokes about our hair. It looks like no more celebrity speakers, just your neighbor from down the street who can tell us about the postpartum depression she’s walking through. Maybe the grad student writing her thesis on purity culture. It’s not a “safe space” where your feelings won’t get hurt, though we’ll all try our best to be charitable, because conflict is what happens when thinking people come together. It looks like arguments worthy of a flipped table or two, like communion. It looks like wearing whatever makes you feel the most comfortable and beautiful and womanly. It looks like theological discussions. It looks like food drives. It looks like Fortune 500 CEOs standing next to women who make curly fries at Arby’s. It looks like worship and hymns and intercessory prayer. It looks like a haven from the mainstream culture, a place where weary souls can gather and feel seen, and a place for rabble-rousing with others striving for sainthood.

Somebody start that women’s ministry event. I’ll bring the lemon bars.

So many of us don’t have this in the day-to-day of our lives, so we seek it out at women’s conferences, and often, we don’t find it. Here is my call to you: how is God asking you to foster that community? What is he asking you to organize or propose? What choices can you make—or not make—today to build that kingdom?

I’d love to hear in the comments about your own experience with women’s ministry: the good, the bad, the ugly, the holy. Do you have a space where you truly feel like you fit? (I hope this space, right here, can be that for you.)

*I have recently been accused of, and I quote, “pandering to the anti-vax crowd”. With all due respect, I pander to nobody, and furthermore, the reason I don’t talk much about vaccines is because I know next to nothing about science-y things and I really, really, really don’t think you should get your medical information from writers who are not qualified to give it. I pay a pediatrician, like, a LOT of money to advise me on my kids’ health. She went to medical school. I did not. You will feel so, so, so much more confident in your decisions after speaking to DOCTORS who know you IN REAL LIFE, not just talking heads or influencers or headlines or whatever. I know I could get 8 million claps for being all “vaccines are morally evil and will also kill you and your entire family” or “listen, anti-science douchebag, go get your shot or you don’t care about people” but I’m not interested in claps, I’m interested in conversations. I don’t get my medical info from substack newsletters and neither should you. So I’m not playing that game. OK. Hoppin’ off the ole high horse, now.

On My Nightstand 

Here are some things I’ve been reading lately that have made me think!

• Women in WW2 Took On These Dangerous Combat Jobs: I find conversations about women in the military fascinating, and this article on the history of women in WW2 was a great read!

• God Spare the Girls by Kelsey McKinney: Read. This. Book. It’s about two daughters of a celebrity evangelical pastor after his affair gets exposed, but I promise, it’s not tawdry or illicit. It’s thought-provoking and illustrates the ways our celebrity-influencer-Christian culture has hurt women. The imagery is lovely, the prose is stunning, and the descriptions of the church busybody are hilarious. Truly a must-read.

• Turning Pointe by Chloe Angyal: I have a very odd fascination with ballet. Fun fact: when I was four, I told my mom I had to quit ballet lessons because I was too “stressed” and “busy”. Haha. But I do adore the art form, and my 3-year-old daughter is obsessed with her dance classes. My first novel even featured a ballet dancer heavily. So I snagged this book on the elitism, racism, and changing culture of ballet at the library. It was interesting to read about how damaging ballet is to the body, as well as the way we push our kids into activity overload in the 21st century (couldn’t agree more). But some of the gender-is-bad stuff got eye-rolly.

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Who’ve I Been Listening To?

Here are some movers and shakers online that I enjoy pointing others towards. They are not always Catholic, but I find that learning from people who aren’t Catholic can be incredibly interesting at times as it helps to stretch and challenge my faith in a way that strengthens it. Disclaimer: I do not agree with every single word that comes out of their mouth. In fact, I may disagree with them strongly! Please don’t e-mail me saying so-and-so is pro-choice or so-and-so tweeted the F word in 2015. You have a brain and I fully trust you to use it in a discerning way. These are just some people that have made me think, lately! 

• Jackie Hill Perry has a YouTube channel worth perusing. I find her story really interesting and she’s definitely a world-class speaker and spoken word artist.

• Bridget Phetasy is a sassy Twitter-follow that makes me both laugh and think.

• Modern Icons by Gracie continues to provide some of the most thought-provoking, stunning art I’ve laid eyes on. I adore her modern interpretations of the saints and want to buy every single print.

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Learn more about my books:

• Girl, Arise: A Catholic Feminist’s Invitation to Live Boldly, Love Your Faith and Change the World

• In Full Bloom: Finding the Grit and Grace to Thrive Wherever You’re Planted

In case you missed these letters:

• Let Justice Roll - for subscribers

• Is the Gender Pay Gap Real? - for everyone

• Feeling Abandoned by the Church? Read This. - for subscribers