Marie Cartier – Feminism and Religion

From the Archives: New and Old Queer Frontiers – Redefining Sacred Space by John Erickson

This was originally posted January 31, 2012

Queer. Sacred. Profane. Bar Culture.

One might not easily associate all four of those words in the same category, but Dr. Marie Cartier, a Professor at California State University Northridge, has crossed numerous boundaries in her search for the sacred in the pre-Stonewall Butch-Femme/Gay Women’s bar culture in twentieth century America.

A radical queer pioneer in the fields of both Women’s and Queer Studies in Religion, Marie has become a hero of mine during my time at Claremont Graduate University and in my personal journey as a male queer scholar in these fields.

As an activist, Marie has concentrated a majority of her work on activism and its involvement in shaping one’s identity as well as the world in which we occupy. Although the majority of Marie’s work concentrated on her personal interactions with butch, femme, and gay women, her interactions are transcending from being strictly personal to digital. Continue reading “From the Archives: New and Old Queer Frontiers – Redefining Sacred Space by John Erickson”

From the Archives: And the Pies! Ongoing Grateful Thanks for Tradition by Marie Cartier

This post was originally published November 24, 2018.

In November 2017 I wrote about pie baking.

And in November 2015 I also wrote about pie baking.

In November 2016, I was destroyed by the “election” and wrote a post in November of that year “For Strong Women” just to help many of us keep going.

NO Kings Day Protest – Lakewood, CA by Marie Cartier

Note – usually we have a Carol Christ Legacy post on Mondays. Today we have a post in the spirit of the elections taking place this week across the United States.

October 18, 2025

Largest single day protest in US history- over 7 million people- 2700 + gatherings

P.s. That’s my wife in the inflatable bear costume– NO KINGS and YES ON 50!

From the Archives: Matthew Shepard Is a Friend of Mine – Part II…by Marie Cartier

This piece was originally posted on November 2, 2013. Part I published yesterday.

The day after his death, I went to teach Gender Women’s Studies (then Women’s Studies) and I cried in front of my students and then sang to them because I didn’t know what else to do. So in 1998 I sang a 1975 Holly Near song to my students, “It Could Have Been Me,” about the Kent State massacres and murder of Chilean poet Victor Jara. “And it could have been me, but instead it was you./ So I’ll keep doing the work you were doing as if I were two…/If you can live for freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom! …if you can live for freedom, I can, too.”

From the Archives: Matthew Shepard Is a Friend of Mine – Part I…by Marie Cartier

This piece was originally posted on November 2, 2013.

Matthew Shepard died October 12, 1998 – fifteen years ago. This month I have already attended three events memorializing his death. The first was a screening of the Emmy-award winning teleplay The Matthew Shepard Story (starring the amazing Stockard Channing as Judy Shepard), where I served as the moderator for an impassioned question and answer session for the monthly meeting of Comunidad, the Ministry of Gay and Lesbian Catholics group where I serve on the board at St. Matthew’s in Long Beach, CA.

I also recently attended two productions of Beyond the Fence produced by the South Coast Chorale, in which my friend Robin Mattocks performs. This musical created by Steve Davison and others moved me to tears several times—and I know and teach the story of Matthew Shepard every year at this time—I have already done so four times this month. I attended with a friend the first night and because I am a professor the director let me come to the Gala the next night where I met Matthew’s real life best friend Romaine Patterson.

THIS IS HOW WE DO IT: In These United States, September 2025 by Marie Cartier

Poem:

Photo of author at banner drop action, August 2025, “Be Brave With Us.”

Part I

We didn’t want to believe we had lost so much, so fast-

Our dignity perhaps and certainly our ability to speak entirely freely

We didn’t want to believe that we had lost so much so fast—

Our ability to be connected to each other, to form a more perfect union

We didn’t want to believe that we had lost so much so fast—

But when they took away the comediennes whose job it was to help us make fun of ourselves…when they took away the gatekeepers of clean water and renewable energy and when they took away the scientists working to cure children’s cancer…

when they took away took away took away

You see we didn’t want to believe that we had lost so much so fast

Our flag for instance didn’t make sense and our statue of liberty and justice for all,

her torch reaching into a sky littered with planes of those being deported to cages without due process

It happens so fast –the loss it happens so fast
We learned that it takes a long time to build good
We realized it doesn’t take long to tear it down meaning the failure to keep the good
The holes in the flag were gaping and we could see through them
we saw images of the sick, the old and …women and children always go first.
We didn’t realize we had lost so much… until it was gone

This is the time for good trouble by Marie Cartier

Marie Cartier performing this rant poem at the John Lewis Good Trouble Lives On Rally in Lakewood, CA July 17th. Photo by Mel Saywell

This I can guarantee you: there will come a day when it seems you cannot stop crying.

When will that day come? Today it came for me reading The Atlantic while I drank my morning coffee:

This is what they are reporting: the Trump administration has given the order to incinerate food instead of sending it to people abroad who need it. Nearly 500 metric tons of emergency food—enough to feed about 1.5 million children for a week—are set to expire tomorrow…the food, meant for children in Afghanistan and Pakistan, will be ash.

There will come a day.

And here we are in these United States with people in hiding, speaking of food. Why are they hiding? They are hiding from immigration officials and some of us are sending those people in hiding – food. Toiletries. Macaroni and cheese boxes line my grocery cart,

In these United States, we are building more prisons. And I read the detention center known as Alligator Alcatraz puts thirty-two people in a cage. Each person/prisoner costs the United States taxpayer approximately $275 a day. I guess I mean not prisoner, immigration detainee.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: What is the Nature of the Hope that Can Trump Despair in the New Year?

This was originally posed on December 20, 2013

“All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” These words posted on the gates of hell in Dante’s Inferno have an eerie resonance in our time.

Marie Cartier recently posted a blog on children and hunger with facts so devastating I could not finish reading it. Earlier in the month Jassy Watson wrote about her deep feelings of grief on hearing Luisah Teish’s “Prayer for Disappearing Species.” Grief, despair, and sadness about the injustices in our world can be overwhelming.

A friend of mine has recently fallen into a deep depression. When I try to talk her out of it, she repeats that they are threatening to cut down the last remaining old growth forest in her home state of Oregon and that she can no longer eat fish because radioactivity released in the Fukishima nuclear plant disaster is reaching the seacoast of Oregon.

When I tell my friend she should not dwell only on these things and that she must remember that the world is still a beautiful place, she responds, “I do not want to give up my feelings. I know I must find a way to acknowledge my sadness and make a place for joy, but I don’t know how to do it.”

I have been in the grip of deep grief about the planet myself, not once but many times. But this happens less frequently than it used to. When I think about the differences between how I once felt and how I feel now, I think the difference is that I have come to terms with and accepted the likelihood that “the world as we know it” is “going to hell in a handbasket”—as I put it.

I believe that the most likely conclusion of the choices human beings are making on planet earth today is massive environmental destruction leading to great suffering and probable extinction for human and many other species on planet earth. This is what I believe, but I also remind myself that I cannot know for sure. The earth and its species including human beings may have resources of resistance and survival, transformation and adaptation,that I do not know about and cannot imagine.

When I began to accept that the world I know and love (where spring follows winter, where birds sing, and where there is hope that injustice can be rectified) may not exist in the very near future, I had an astonishing insight. The death of the world I know and love will not mean the death of our planet or the end of the evolution of the universe.

Thinking about the disappearance of species and the death of human beings from starvation often feels too much to bear. None of this should be happening. Still, it can be strangely comforting to remind myself that the world I love is not the only possible world. There have been other worlds on this very planet—the time when the first cells were formed, the time of the dinosaurs, and many others. Evolution will continue on planet earth for several billion more years, and when our sun burns out, other suns will most likely still be shining in the universe.

This insight was followed by another. The reason for hope is not the conviction that we will be able to save the world we love. The reason for hope—and the reason to keep trying to save our world—is the deep knowing that it is right to try. Even if we cannot save the world we love for all time, we can savor the gift of life, and we can continue to try to create a world in which the gift of life is shared widely today and tomorrow.

I have written many times that we must learn to love a life that ends in death. I was speaking about accepting that each one of us will surely die. I do not fear death. Overcoming this fear has opened me to a greater and more clear-sighted love for life.

Can we learn to love life while accepting that the world we love may be dying? Can we continue to work to improve the conditions of life for individuals and species knowing that the world as we love it may not survive? Do we have any other choice?

For me the hope that can trump despair in our time begins in gratitude for a life that has been given to us, a life that has come down to us through the generations, and through billions of years of the evolutionary process on our planet.

Let us bless the Source of Life.

Let us bless the Source of Life, and the cycles of birth, death, and regeneration.

Let us turn back from despair.

Let us embrace the gift of life and share it with as many others as possible in the new year.

Carol P. Christ learned to be grateful for the gift of life in Crete on the Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete she leads through Ariadne Institute. It is not too early to sign up for the spring or fall pilgrimages for 2014. Carol can be heard on a WATER Teleconference. Carol’s books include She Who Changes and Rebirth of the Goddess and the widely-used anthologies Womanspirit Rising and Weaving the Visions. She wishes you great joy in the new year.

NO KINGS Day June 14, 2025 by Marie Cartier

#nokings #nokingsday
Many actions took place in Southern California. I participated in one which was so unusual and historic I want to share it with you all on FAR.

My wife and I and friends stood and protested in Seal Beach, CA and then drove through 1000s and 1000sof people lining both sides of Pacific Coast Highway for 30 miles from Seal Beach to Dana Point. I was up through the moon roof screaming “NO KINGS!” for hours!

Dyke March, Long Beach, CA 2025 by Marie Cartier

This year it is more important than ever to celebrate LGBTQ+ PRIDE. Here’s a taste of Long Beach, CA’s Dyke March. I was the emcee for the rally. My wife, Kimberly Esslinger was on the organizing committee and also created the first “Dykes After Dark” event– a poetry reading open mic– last year the poetry event was a pop-up with 15 people. This year the coffeehouse was filled to the max- 80 people or so, and the Dyke March itself had over 400. This is the thing: we need places to gather. And if you build it, we will come.