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Pope Francis Challenged the Margins, But the Church’s Exclusion of Me is a Religion Itself
And women still take it
I was baptized in the Catholic Church, in a century old, 8-foot christening gown and cap that was so fragile my grandparents wrapped it in rolls of tissue paper. They transported it from Boston to New York, checking it obsessively on the entire drive.
The snap shots from the Brownie camera showed smiling relatives and beaming parents, thrilled to welcome the first of the next generation into their faith.
Eleven months later, due to lust and the Church’s prohibitions against birth control, my parents were right back at the baptismal font. John looked exactly the same as his big sister. The prayers were the same, the oils to anoint him and the Latin prayers- everything was the same.
The only difference was that my brother had a tiny package between his legs. It created an invisible difference between us and plotted a course that would beckon him and exclude me for the rest of our lives.
That door is closed
As the bossy oldest child, I was always drawn to the powerful, the leader, the star. I admit that I was drawn to the priests, their authority, the deference they received, and the magic they created on the altar…
