Mass – Feminism and Religion

Congratulations to Comunidad ministry for LGBTQ+ Catholics at Saint Mathews in Long Beach, CA, Saint Mathews Church – for forty years of service!!! I have been involved with them (and even on the board for over two terms) for two of those decades.

Cardinal Mahony presided at the Anniversary Mass. I cried while singing, with everyone, “And I will raise you up.” It is just so moving as a queer Catholic to be *recognized*. ☆○☆ To be seen. “Here I am , Lord.” To be seen.

And I am also an ordained priestess in the Temple of Isis, have practiced Buddhism and other spiritual traditions…but the faith tradition of my birth has a huge cultural pull. ♡ And was crucial to my work on my book Baby, You Are My Religion: Women, Gay Bars and Theology Pre-Stonewall. (Note: The book is coming out in 2027 as a completely revised 2^nd edition with a new subtitle: Baby, You Are My Religion: The Lesbian Bar as Sacred Space. )

I often find myself sitting in conservative Catholic spaces. My brother is a Roman Catholic priest in the Dominican order and I remain in support of his vocation. Every time, before a Mass officially starts, I’m overcome with a sense of: “You belong here…and you don’t.”

The part of me that has always felt at home in a Catholic setting is that love of the ritual and ceremony, the smell of the incense, the familiarity of the chants and songs. It was a Catholic priest, the late Fr. Ciaran O’Donnell, who taught me how to play the guitar and got me started with the healing practice of songwriting. When I sink into these associations, I feel connected to my Croatian ancestors and our Catholic faith. And there’s the other part of me—the queer feminist and an advocate for other queer and transgender people to live the fullest, most open expressions of themselves in all spaces of life, especially faith-based spaces. As a survivor of several forms of sexual assault and as a trauma specialist who has guided countless other survivors in their healing process over the years, I can’t sit in a Catholic Church and not feel uneasy about the legacy of abuse and silencing survivors within the church. Between my queer identity and dedication to supporting survivors, I feel that I don’t belong.