I have amazing parents who gave me a best friend for a sister and put food on the table. They gave me a privileged education surrounded by great friends, and supported my decision when I decided that I wanted to go to university. This is where I met my beautiful girlfriend and developed more amazing friendships.
(Photo courtesy of Pexels.)
I’m not trying to blow my own trumpet, but putting all of these puzzle pieces together forces me to stop and take a step back sometimes and wonder how I’ve been so fortunate. At times like this, I have to believe in a higher power in a big indescribable presence with the whole world in His hands. I need to believe in something that is looking out for me. There’s no choice but to be grateful and to count our lucky stars until the inevitable happens, until the shit comes back around. I’m not naïve, in fact, I can’t ignore the certainty that things go wrong every day. When my big sister was 9, her best friend died. When my mother was 13, her father died. Losses like these are, undeniably, the biggest tests of faith for anyone.
So, what about the people who struggle with faith in the first place before they’re even tested? I hate being asked if I’m religious. I want to say ‘yes, but I’m indecisive’ or ‘no, but I’m hopeful’, but those two answers aren’t options in the religious diversity sections of forms. If I have to pick, I choose Catholic and I don’t know why. I have an Irish Catholic family and I had a Roman Catholic Junior School education, but that’s the extent of my commitment to categorised faith. I saw numbers of my friends at Sunday mass decline rapidly as we started secondary school, and I can’t pretend I was any better at staying loyal to the Church.
I feel like I’m confessing to a crime when I tick the ‘Catholic’ box. It’s not easy aligning yourself with a religion that is so controversial, and advocates a lot of values you disagree with. But one value that I will always get on board with is compassion; I will show compassion by understanding that there’s more to a religion than its surface. There’s no sugar-coating a strict religion that is notorious for its harsh attitudes. The problem is, that’s how I viewed it until I came out to my parents. After taking that step, I saw beneath the surface of Catholicism and I found a wealth of support and acceptance in my family. As new generations come to exist, values and ideals evolve. I am very different to my parents, and they are very different to their parents. With women’s rights and LGBTQA+ rights, there comes a responsibility to be compassionate with issues like gay marriage, conversion therapy, and abortion. So, with fear of sounding political, I will coin the term ‘New Catholic’ to identify with.
‘New Catholic’ will never catch on. It will never be a sub-religion and it will never be a new movement of Catholicism— but I don’t want it to be. It is a label created by myself for myself. I like the ideas of hopefulness, faith, and morality that come with religion. I like the idea that I can identify with Catholicism, but also modify it with my own contemporary attitudes. I don’t want a love/hate relationship with religion, I want to coexist with it.
I will remain grateful and always have hope. When I’m next filling out a form and the religion boxes sit in rows staring at me, I will tick ‘Catholic’ without hesitation and without guilt. I want to be able to call myself a queer Catholic without feeling like I’m contradicting myself.