The person in the mirror has no hair, aside from some measly peach fuzz. Her eyebrows are embarrassingly thin, her eyelashes missing in big clumps. Her skin has taken on an ashy tint. There are scars dotting her décolletage, and an ugly bump over her heart, as if she was been beaten there. She is skinny in all the wrong places, and lumpy in others.

I shut off the bathroom light, and leave to cover my shame with another pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.

Chemotherapy will do that to a girl.

What makes a woman?

What makes a woman? Secular culture, especially consumer culture, would have women believe that it's fabulous hair, beautiful brows, glowing skin and an able body. Her breasts should be large, but not too large, and her figure neither too skinny nor too fat. She can wear whatever she wants, but ideally, she should wear clothing that marks her as a physical woman by showing her shape and her skin. The acceptable amount of skin to show and makeup to wear depends on what subculture she encounters. If she attains these attributes, she is a true woman, regardless of biology. Eschews them or finds them impossible to achieve? At best, she will constantly defend her choice to go against the grain. At worst, her identity and sexuality will be called into question--is she a lesbian? Is she just "butch"? Is she a slut? Is she a man trapped in a woman's body?

Religious folks don't get a free pass either. For us, womanhood often means long hair, a sweet smile, an abundance of wholesome charm and an able body. Her breasts should be large enough to be womanly, but not so large as to be oversexed. Her figure should be maternal, but neither too skinny nor too fat. She should wear clothing that marks her socially as a woman, especially skirts, but nothing that calls too much attention to herself. The acceptable amount of skin to show and makeup to wear depends on which other religious folks she encounters. If she attains these attributes, she is truly feminine. Eschews them or finds them impossible to achieve? At best, she will constantly defend her choice to go against the grain. At worst, her identity and sexuality will be called into question--is she attracted to other women? Is she just "butch"? Is she a slut? Is she dangerous to the faith of my children? My community?

Her breasts should be large enough to be womanly, but not so large as to be oversexed. Her figure should be maternal, but neither too skinny nor too fat.

I am lucky and privileged. My hair, my brows, my lashes--all will grow back with time. My power port will be removed from my chest and my scars will fade. My skin will glow again. I will wear pretty clothes and makeup. In time, I will once again feel comfortable navigating the secular and Catholic worlds of womanhood in my own way.

But what of the woman who is permanently disfigured? Permanently ill? The one who is not of able body? The one who will always be too small or too large, too flat or too voluptuous? What will we say of the woman whose choice of hair or clothing marks her as an outlier in one world or the other, or even the woman who as Catholics we fear deeply damages her human dignity with the choices she makes? What really makes a woman in this brave and broken world? What can we reliably seek, aside from biology, that clearly makes one a female on God's green Earth?

What will we say of the woman whose choice of hair or clothing marks her as an outlier in one world or the other, or even the woman who as Catholics we fear deeply damages her human dignity with the choices she makes?

"The dignity of women is measured by the order of love ... Unless we refer to this order and primacy we cannot give a complete and adequate answer to the question about women's dignity and vocation. When we say that the woman is the one who receives love in order to love in return, this refers not only or above all to the specific spousal relationship of marriage. It means something more universal, based on the very fact of her being a woman within all the interpersonal relationships which, in the most varied ways, shape society and structure the interaction between all persons - men and women. In this broad and diversified context, a woman represents a particular value by the fact that she is a human person, and, at the same time, this particular person, by the fact of her femininity. This concerns each and every woman, independently of the cultural context in which she lives, and independently of her spiritual, psychological and physical characteristics, as for example, age, education, health, work, and whether she is married or single." -St John Paul II, Mulieris Dignitatem, 1988

This is a beautiful but not very satisfying answer. It resists being cornered, packaged and marketed in the aisle next to the mascara. It cannot be draped with a mantilla, shown off like skin or harnessed for earthly power and prestige. It doesn't wear a dress or jeans. It is sweet and tough and soft and loud and big and small and sensual and demure. Like many other aspects of our faith, true womanhood is a mystery that encompasses our physical bodies but also goes deeper, to the core of our very souls where it cannot be stolen by illness or age, wrecked by society or wracked with confusion. It is based in the greatest of all mysteries, the mystery of love.

Remember that when you look in the mirror, and rejoice.

A couple of weeks ago, I got into a discussion with some friends about an article headlined “Where Have All the Women Gone?” As a professor at a Catholic college, I read the article with some interest. In brief, the article discusses two distinct, but related, phenomena: the dwindling number of female presidents at Catholic colleges and the discrepancy between the number of male and female college presidents, in general. As the article explains, the first problem correlates strongly with the shift over the last fifty years in Catholic education from single-sex colleges to co-ed college. Whereas colleges founded by orders of religious sisters and dedicated to educated women tended to have a long history of female presidents (generally from the founding order), as those colleges became co-ed, the gender breakdown of college presidents began to reflect more closely general trends in education. As members of the founding orders became older and older, many of these colleges hired lay people as presidents, the majority of whom were men, which leads to the second phenomenon related to the downward trend of female presidents of Catholic institutions: that more men than women are presidents across the board.

Whereas colleges founded by orders of religious sisters and dedicated to educated women tended to have a long history of female presidents (generally from the founding order), as those colleges became co-ed, the gender breakdown of college presidents began to reflect more closely general trends in education.

The “Pyramid Problem”

That there are more male than female college presidents is not news in the higher education world, and the numbers at Catholic colleges are generally reflective of the state of colleges and universities as a whole: male college presidents outnumber female presidents 3 to 1, and the reasons behind this disparity are complicated. One of the biggest factors is simply that fewer women than men advance far enough in their careers to make a presidency possible.

In an article in The Chronicle of Higher Education, Mary Ann Mason calls this “the pyramid problem.” As she notes, the number men and women earning Ph.D.s is generally even, but those numbers shift dramatically in favor of men the higher you get in the academic ranks, from graduate student to instructor, assistant professor, associate professor, and full professor. The reasons for this shift vary. For example, many female academics find it difficult to keep up the rigorous pace of research and teaching required to earn tenure while also starting families and so seek out less rigorous part-time or full-time non-tenure-track jobs, sacrificing career mobility for life balance and flexibility. (I very happily work as a part-time professor, and it works for me, but it means I will likely never advance very far in my career.)

Male college presidents outnumber female presidents 3 to 1, and the reasons behind this disparity are complicated.

Other women find themselves affected by the “trailing spouse” phenomenon. Higher education jobs are notoriously difficult to land, with many more Ph.D.s on the market than available jobs. While almost every professor friend I know has a story about mom or grandma saying, “Oh, there’s a college down the street from me! Why don’t you call them and ask them for a job?” the reality is that, if you want a job as a professor, you had better be willing to move across the country for one. The situation becomes significantly more complicated for an academic couple: the “two body problem.” Since many professors meet their spouses in graduate school, academic couples need to make choices. Should we take the first job that is offered? Should we hold out for a school that has two openings? Should we live apart for a few years, until something opens up? I know couples in each of these situations; sometimes it works out, but often it doesn’t.

The Choice Between Career and Family

None of this is to say that women can’t become successful academics -- only that it often comes at a cost. In her discussion of the pyramid problem, Mason reports that her research found “only one in three women who take a fast-track university job before having a child ever become mothers. Among tenured professors, only 44 percent of women are married with children, compared with 77 percent of men. And women who achieve tenure are more than twice as likely as men to be single 12 years after earning a Ph.D. In addition, women who are married when they begin their faculty careers are much more likely than men in the same position to divorce or separate from their spouses.”

Among tenured professors, only 44 percent of women are married with children, compared with 77 percent of men.

Can women be married with children and have successful academic careers? Of course. I know several professors who are also mothers, but the majority women female professors with tenure who I know have no children or one child; I don’t know any with more than two.

Further, a recent report by the American Council on Education found that men are more likely than women to hold tenured positions, that male professors outearn women by approximately $15,000, that women (as of 2011) held only 21% of college presidencies nationwide, and that female presidents are “less likely than male presidents to be married or have children and are more likely to have altered their careers for their family.”

Why is Having Catholic Female Presidents Important?

But let’s get back to the original point. Yes, there are fewer female than male college presidents across the board, and, yes, there has been a sharp decline in the number of female college presidents at Catholic colleges. I’ve cited a few articles that explain the reasons for these shifts, and there are countless more easily available with a quick Google search, in case anyone would like to learn about this issue.

What does a female president bring to a college -- more specifically, a Catholic college -- that a male president doesn’t?

The bigger question that I think we need to answer, however, is not why are there fewer female presidents, but why does that matter? What does a female president bring to a college -- more specifically, a Catholic college -- that a male president doesn’t? And why should a Catholic college or university be particularly invested in hiring female leaders?

1) Care for the whole person

Certainly, men as well as women are capable of supporting and advancing educational and cultural values that develop the human person in its entirety, but in her essay “Woman’s Value in National Life,” St. Edith Stein argues that women are particularly attuned to the desire of becoming “a complete human being, one who is fully developed in every way; and she would like to help others to become so, and by all means, she would like to do justice to the complete human being whenever she has to deal with persons.”

Any strong education institution should share this goal, but Catholic colleges and universities should be particularly concerned with helping students become “complete human beings,” focusing not just intellectual, but also on interpersonal and spiritual achievements.

2) Understanding of challenges of pregnancy and motherhood

A Catholic institution should value family and children and should enact policies, including family leave, adjustments to the tenure clock, convenient, affordable child care, and adjustable class schedules that support staff and students who are pregnant. According to the Guttmacher Institute, in 2014 60% of women who had abortions were in their 20s and 24% of women who had abortions and reported a religion identified as Catholic, so unplanned pregnancy is as significant an issue at Catholic colleges as it is everywhere else. Even female presidents who do not have families are more likely to notice the challenges facing female students and staff than men who have not lived those experience.

Further, in his “Letter to Women,” St. John Paul II argues that the Church has a moral obligation to advance the rights of women in the workplace: “We need only think of how the gift of motherhood is often penalized rather than rewarded, even though humanity owes its very survival to this gift. Certainly, much remains to be done to prevent discrimination against those who have chosen to be wives and mothers. As far as personal rights are concerned, there is an urgent need to achieve real equality in every area: equal pay for equal work, protection for working mothers, fairness in career advancements, equality of spouses with regard to family rights and the recognition of everything that is part of the rights and duties of citizens in a democratic State.”

As far as personal rights are concerned, there is an urgent need to achieve real equality in every area: equal pay for equal work, protection for working mothers, fairness in career advancements, equality of spouses with regard to family rights and the recognition of everything that is part of the rights and duties of citizens in a democratic State." - Pope John Paul II

3) A more inclusive perspective

In a recent New York Times Opinion piece, “What We Lose When We Lose Female Reporters”, journalist Mei Fong argued that the journalism profession suffers when female reporters are not in the field: “More women lessens the preponderance of male viewpoints and allows a clearer presentation of how things are.” The same is true for colleges and universities. While men and women are both capable of attending to women’s rights, it is natural to be more attuned that which affects you. As several recent pieces have pointed out (here and here, for example), Catholic institutions are not immune to issues of sexual assault and discrimination, and have an obligation to protect the dignity of all students.

4) Positive example for female students

When Catholic students see Catholic women in positions of academic leadership, they will see that as a possibility. When they see Catholic women living out St. John Paul II’s call to “make an indispensable contribution to the growth of a culture which unites reason and feeling, to a model of life ever open to the sense of ‘mystery’, to the establishment of economic and political structures ever more worthy of humanity,” they will see the necessity of women Catholic academic culture. They will work to make Catholic college and universities institutions that support women and men not just intellectually, but as whole people who contribute to building a culture and society worthy of sons and daughters of God.

If we look at the Gospel stories of the Passion and death of Jesus, as well as the Stations of the Cross, we don’t see very many women mentioned. Starting with the Last Supper, we hear about a number of men: Peter, John, the other Apostles, Herod, Pilate, the chief priests, Judas, Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus, the soldiers, Simon of Cyrene, and the thieves crucified with Jesus. We also hear about some women: the servant-girl who accuses Peter of knowing Christ, Pilate’s wife, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mary of Magdala, the otherwise unmentioned Joanna and Salome, at least one other Mary, and other unnamed women.

Pope St. John Paul II has noted, as has Alice von Hildebrand, that the women of the Passion narratives stand in stark contrast to their male contemporaries. John Paul II writes in On the Dignity and Vocation of Women: “John was the only Apostle who remained faithful, but there were many faithful women…. As we see, in this most arduous test of faith and fidelity the women proved stronger than the Apostles. In this moment of danger, those who love much succeed in overcoming their fear.”

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As we see, in this most arduous test of faith and fidelity the women proved stronger than the Apostles. In this moment of danger, those who love much succeed in overcoming their fear."

Alice von Hildebrand writes that “No woman was privileged to see Christ transfigured on Mount Tabor, but they were there at the Crucifixion. This is… deeply meaningful: They were not given to see Him transfigured; but they were permitted to see Him ‘bruised for our iniquities, smitten by God and afflicted.’ The apostles had fled.”

Except that… women do practically nothing in the Passion narratives. This is why it’s so intriguing to look a little closer at the women in the Passion narratives. I would argue that it’s not simply interesting, but crucial to a proper understanding of Christianity, to look closer at these women than perhaps we’re accustomed to doing, and to learn to imitate their virtues in our own lives. Below, I’ve chosen six moments in the Passion and looked for a particular virtue in each that we can learn from the women present.

1. Encouragement – Jesus meets his mother (4th Station)

The 3rd Station of the Cross: “Jesus falls for the first time”. Jesus had had no sleep the previous night, has been beaten and scourged, has begun to carry His cross, and has now been crushed beneath its weight, all the while knowing that getting up only means moving closer to more torture and, ultimately, death. Mary is helpless, watching her Son suffer so greatly. It must break her heart not to beg Him to stop all of this. All she can offer Him is her deep love and steadfast trust; she can encourage Him that He is not alone, and to keep going. When they meet, Jesus is strengthened.

2. Comfort – Veronica wipes the face of Jesus (6th Station)

Like Mary, Veronica cannot help Jesus. She can’t take on any of His physical pain, so she reaches out to make the journey even just a little bit more bearable. For a moment, she tenderly wipes away the blood and sweat falling into His eyes. She gently cleans His face where the soldiers have spit on Him. She must know this relief will only last a moment, but ultimately it’s not so much about the physical comfort as it is about the love that inspires her to give it.

3. Compassion – Jesus speaks to the women of Jerusalem (8th Station, Luke 23:27-31)

To have compassion doesn’t just mean to have sympathy for someone, or to feel bad for someone. It means to “suffer with” someone. The women of Jerusalem suffer with Jesus. They suffer with each other. At the same time, Jesus sees them and has compassion on them: “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep rather for yourselves and for your children”. They find strength in facing their suffering together.

Compassion... means to 'suffer with' someone.

4. Presence – “Behold your mother” (John 19)

If anyone ever had reason to become hysterical, overcome with grief, and filled with self-pity - it was Mary. But she does none of these things. She stays with her Son until His death, knowing that her presence and compassion is the only comfort she can give. And when He gives her John as her son, she accepts. In accepting this motherhood, she accepted to be the mother of the whole Church. It seems a bit strange – why now? Jesus was going to be back in a few days. And yet I think, on a spiritual level, as well as on a very human level, Jesus did not want to leave us alone, not even for a moment – not John, not Mary, and not the Church. Jesus had experienced terrible loneliness during His Passion. He knew what strength Mary’s loving presence provided, and He knew we were in desperate need of her love and support.

5. Faithfulness – Resting on the Sabbath (Mark 15:47)

That first Holy Saturday must have been torturous. Several of the women who watched Jesus die “took note of where he was laid,” but had to wait an entire day before returning to the tomb, in order to observe the Sabbath rest. They were unable to prevent Jesus’ suffering and crucifixion. Now that they wanted to honor Him in death, they once again had to watch and wait, trusting God in their grief.

6. Generosity – Going to the tomb of Jesus (Luke 24:1-12)

After resting on the Sabbath, the women bring spices to anoint Jesus’ body in the tomb. There, they receive the news that Jesus has risen from the dead, and they rush off to share the good news. Because of their desire to honor Jesus even after His death, they are the first to learn that He is alive. They are the first to receive the great gift and joy of the Resurrection, and they immediately run to share it with the other disciples.

It is true of a lot of things in the Christian life that there is more there than meets the eye. The people in front of you in the Confession line? Not only are they human beings made in the image of the Creator – which alone should fill us with awe – but God wants all of you to share eternal happiness together in heaven. That annoying family who sits behind you in Mass? They’re a little reflection of the Holy Trinity here on earth. That piece of bread on the altar? Actually the God of the Universe. This is one of the great paradoxes of reality, that God reveals himself in hiddenness.

The women in the Passion narratives are models for every single Christian. So it’s not that the Gospel writers were simply bound by their own cultural norms, and therefore practically ignored the women in the Passion narratives. It’s not even necessarily that the women were too oppressed and restricted by society to do more than walk after Jesus as he carried his cross. I mean, that’s possible. But it really wouldn’t change their example of heroic virtue. If anything, it would make their example of a Christian life that much more significant.

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While everyone around them seemed to be giving up or giving in to the incredible evil of that day, these women responded to suffering, not with resignation, but with courageous, defiant, and tender love.

While everyone around them seemed to be giving up or giving in to the incredible evil of that day, these women responded to suffering, not with resignation, but with courageous, defiant, and tender love.

There are universal questions that stir in the hearts of young adults across the globe:

Does my voice matter?

Is anyone listening?

Can I really make a difference?

The Catholic Church answers these questions with a resounding, “Yes!”.

Although this answer has remained true throughout history, the Church is seeking out the voices, thoughts, and longings of young adults in a very specific and new way this year as she prepares for the 15th Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops to be held in October.

What is this Synod all about?

Pope Francis has chosen"Young People, the Faith, and Vocational Discernment” as the theme for this important assembly, and is actively calling upon the young people of the world for their input.

In October of 2017 the Vatican released the preparatory document for the Synod, part of which was a request for every country in the world to survey its young people, the responses to which were compiled on the diocesan and then national levels and submitted to the Vatican. In addition to the survey, the Vatican is employing several other means of collecting feedback from young adults.

First, a Pre-synodal meeting is being held right now in Rome! It began on March 19 and will be in session until March 24th. Attending the meeting will be 300 delegates who will represent the young people of the world. They will discuss three major topics (Challenges and opportunities of young people in the world today; Faith and vocation, discernment and accompaniment; and the Church’s formative and pastoral activity) which have then also been divided into 15 more specific questions. The delegates will also be called upon to communicate answers to these questions that have been submitted via a Facebook group designed to give even more young people an opportunity to be heard.

Katie Prejean, one of three delegates selected by the USCCB to represent the young people of the United States, graciously shared this statement with FemCatholic:

“I am thrilled and honored to be representing the United States at the pre-synodal gathering. As a wife, mother, former classroom teacher and parish youth minister, and now a full time author and speaker, I'm hoping to bring a fairly wide-range of experiences in ministry in the U.S., and I hope I'm able to articulately and joyfully express the wonderful things happening with youth and young adult ministry in our country.

[It's interesting: when I was first informed that I'd been chosen to attend, I was told that the fact that I'm a wife and mom came up during the discernment process and they were excited to have me at the table representing the interests of both young people, young families, and young wives and moms who find themselves searching for authentic encounters with Christ. I'm looking forward to having honest, real conversations about how we can better serve young families and young couples…]

I'm looking forward to having honest, real conversations about how we can better serve young families and young couples... (and) how we can best advocate for and highlight the role of young women in the Church.

Furthermore, I'm hoping to discuss how we can best advocate for and highlight the role of young women in the Church, modeling our lives after Mary, our Mother, and being bold witnesses to what we believe. There's a lot of work to get done this week, but it's good work and all for the sake of the Kingdom. Pray for us!”

Although the time for submitting responses via the survey and facebook group have passed, anyone still interested in participating can post responses to the 15 specific questions on social media platforms using the hashtag #TellittoFrancis and the question’s corresponding hashtag. To follow the proceedings of the Pre-Synodal meeting and to view updated information on the Synod itself, visit the official Synod website.

Our call to get involved as Catholic Feminists

The Church is asking to hear our voice; She needs our voice. The popes of the last half century have specifically entreated women to seek a deeper understanding of their gifts, develop them, and boldly use them in service of the Church and the world.

Pope St. John Paul the Great in particular encouraged women of all vocations and stages of life and advocated for the dignity and equality of women throughout the world. He said that it is up to us women to “promote a ‘new feminism,’which rejects the temptation of imitating models of ‘male domination’, in order to acknowledge and affirm the true genius of women in every aspect of the life of society, and overcome all discrimination, violence and exploitation.” (Evangelium Vitae, 99)

The Church is asking to hear our voice; She needs our voice.

What do we have to offer?

Ladies, this is a significant calling, but we are up for the challenge! As you consider responding to Pope Francis’ request, reflect on what you, as a young woman, have to give, simply by sharing the authentic gift of yourself with others.

“The world doesn’t need what women have, it needs what women are.” Edith Stein

“For in giving themselves to others each day women fulfil their deepest vocation.” John Paul II, Letter to Women

How can the Church continue to support, or better support, you as you strive to discover and live out your particular vocation and become who God made you to be?

“Be who God intended you to be and you will set the world ablaze.” St. Catherine of Siena

How can your ability to put persons over projects or profits contribute to a better understanding of how the Church can relate to young people and the role of the Church in our ever changing world? How do you hope to serve others through your awareness of their needs and desires?

How can your ability to put persons over projects or profits contribute to a better understanding of how the Church can relate to young people and the role of the Church in our ever changing world?

“Thank you, women who are daughters and women who are sisters! Into the heart of the family, and then of all society, you bring the richness of your sensitivity, your intuitiveness, your generosity and fidelity...Thank you, every woman, for the simple fact of being a woman! Through the insight which is so much a part of your womanhood you enrich the world's understanding and help to make human relations more honest and authentic.” John Paul II, Letter to Women

Together with our sisters and brothers throughout the world we are seeking a deeper understanding of ourselves, the world we live in, and ultimately God himself. Let’s continue the conversations begun this week by the delegates. Now is the time to dialogue about our seeking; we each have a unique perspective to share each other and the Church.

Have courage, ask questions, listen actively, and speak up - the Church is listening.

I have a confession, ladies: I struggle with perfectionism.

Perhaps you do, too.

Dr. Brené Brown calls perfectionism a 20-ton shield that we use to protect ourselves. Dr. Brown further defines it as “a way of thinking that says this, ‘If I look perfect, live perfect, work perfect, I can avoid or minimize criticism, blame, and ridicule.’”

Perfectionism has followed me for much of my life. When I was in high school, the comment my parents most often heard from my teachers was, “She needs to relax.” I feared the very idea of my grades slipping even once. The realities of collegiate study were first to begin chipping away at my perfectionism. During my first semester of college, my physics test scores never surpassed 45%, no matter how hard I studied. It rattled me, making me question my intelligence, work ethic, and worthiness to occupy a spot at my beloved alma mater. (In reality, it just meant that physics is not in my wheelhouse. At all.)

Even my spiritual life was marked by perfectionism. I once mentioned to a spiritual director that I wanted to pray the Liturgy of the Hours - all of them. He reigned me in, wisely suggesting that I start with just morning prayer. I was bothered by this idea, however, and worried that God would not think me as strong in my prayer life if I did not commit to praying all of the Divine Office. The same fear was present in other additions to the spiritual life that I considered. If I did not do this particular prayer, or pray it often enough, then I would have an awful prayer life and disappoint God. During the second meeting with my current spiritual director, he paused at one point and asked, “You’re a perfectionist, aren’t you?” Evidently, I could not hide this tendency of mine.

The friends, family, and spiritual directors in my life taught - and reminded - me that we cannot achieve perfection (without God’s grace, that is). Despite their wise words, being unable to achieve perfection did not prevent me from feeling as though I fell short when (not if) I did not reach it. Perfectionism had a tight hold on me, even when I understood it to be an impossible goal. It was not until I started running that I finally started to abandon my search for perfection and, instead, embrace progress.

Being unable to achieve perfection did not prevent me from feeling as though I fell short when (not if) I did not reach it.

“Athletic” is not the adjective I would use to describe myself. Ever. I played intramural sports for a total of two years as a child (and I was horrible at it). When I started running, I could not even run  a half mile without stopping to walk. While searching for a new form of exercise last year, I decided on running because I liked the idea of doing something I never thought I could or would. I started with low expectations of myself. The only hope I had was progress and I was genuinely excited about each small bit of progress that I made.

A few weeks ago, my run was particularly challenging. Each step was miserable. It was cold. I had to take far more walking breaks than usual. Frustration rose because this same run I did two days ago was now so difficult. I felt as though I was regressing. My temptation to seek perfection reared its ugly head and blinded me to the progress I made over the last few months. Instead of looking at how far I had come, I fixated on how far (literally) I still had to go, and how poorly I was doing in getting there.

Suddenly, it began snowing. This was no small matter for a Colorado girl who rarely sees snow in her new southern home. During one of my (many) walking breaks on this run, I slowed down enough to admire the fluffy snowflakes gently falling to the ground. The idea for this post also came to me during this very same run. I eventually accepted that this run would not be one of my best, but it far surpasses what I could previously do. It was still progress.

I realized that a perfection-centered mindset can be a rather negative one because you focus on something you cannot achieve. After all, how would one ever become a “perfect” runner? A progress-centered mindset can, however, be positive one, for you can always progress, even a tiny bit more. You can run just 0.1 mile more, or 5 seconds faster.

As women, perfectionism may appear in various forms. Perhaps you are trying to be the perfect friend, sister (blood or religious), wife, coworker, daughter, or mother. Maybe you are striving to live out the elusive feminine genius, but find yourself confused at what exactly that means. And perhaps you feel shame when you fall short of being perfect.

Take a moment to think about the area(s) of your life where you seek perfection. In those same areas, how have you progressed? Next time you feel a sense of failure for being imperfect, I hope that you will pause and, instead, think about the progress you made.

In those same areas, how have you progressed?

If perfectionism has a hold on you, I invite you to run from it. Run slow, run fast, or even walk - however you get there, I encourage you to begin abandoning perfectionism and replace it with a genuine appreciation for progress.

Remember: FemCatholic is not a community that expects you to be perfect. It is a community of women who are cheering for you as you grow.

A few years ago, I began to seriously question Catholic teaching – specifically, the all-male priesthood and what that meant for women.

I’d had my doubts before, but for some reason it all came to a head at the end of my junior year in college. I wanted to find an answer in the Catholic Church. I desperately wanted to be convinced. People did have answers for me, and I am grateful to my friends and family for trying to answer my questions. But no one seemed to have the perfect answer.

I suspect that many, if not all, of us either struggle with some Church teachings or know people who do. Quite possibly you’re in both situations.

If you are struggling:

First off, I’m sorry, because it is rough. Speaking from my own experience and struggles, it’s hard. It can be lonely, especially if no one else seems to understand your question or why it’s so important to you. It can be frustrating, because on one side you have friends who have left the Church because of these same questions… and on the other side you have friends in the Church who try to help, but often give you quick and easy answers to really complex problems. It can make you start to doubt everything you ever believed to be true, which is a little bit terrifying.

It takes courage to keep asking questions and delve deeper when it seems like the whole world wants you to give up and just pick one side already.

Second, I’m really proud of you. It takes courage to keep asking questions and delve deeper when it seems like the whole world wants you to give up and just pick one side already. St. Augustine says, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in thee, O Lord.” The God of truth has placed a desire for truth on your heart. The fact that you are not satisfied with the answers you see around you means that He wants to draw you deeper into truth, deeper into Himself. And for that, I am truly happy for you.

If you know someone who is struggling:

Acknowledge their struggle. Pray for them. Maybe you really can’t understand why they don’t “get it”… Maybe when the topic of the priesthood comes up, it’s enough for you that “Jesus chose only men to be apostles”".” If that’s not enough for them (it may well not be enough, I’m just here to tell you), trust that the Church’s teachings can stand up to questioning. Quite probably, you don’t have all of the answers (neither did Thomas Aquinas, but he turned out alright).

Encourage the person struggling to read Scripture and to read what the saints and the popes have written on the subject. Walk with them. Be willing to have conversations with them. Be honest. If you don’t have an answer, say that… and then join them in searching for an answer. Try to see things from their perspective, especially if it’s difficult for you. Please, don’t clam up. Odds are, your friend does not want to commit heresy. The reason they are asking these questions is because they desperately want to find the truth and because they have hope that the Church is the keeper of this truth. It is your sacred responsibility, as a Catholic and a friend, to journey with them in their search for truth. Sometimes that also means knowing when it’s time to step back and trust the Holy Spirit to work, in His own way and in His own time.

I recently had a conversation with a dear friend of mine, who was the first person I turned to when I had that crisis of faith a couple of years ago. He told me how happy he was that I had found the answers I was looking for, and that his own understanding of the faith had grown by listening to me as I wrestled with – and found answers to – my questions. He then said something that gave me pause: “Honestly, I was afraid for you when you started questioning all of this, because I had only ever seen people go down that path and end up rejecting the faith.”

There’s a very real fear among good and faithful Catholics that to question the Church too much leads to a rejection of the Church.

And to be quite honest with you? I can’t really blame him. There’s a very real fear among good and faithful Catholics that to question the Church too much leads to a rejection of the Church. While I’m sympathetic to that fear, I’m not so sure I agree. If someone is at the point of leaving the Church, it’s because that person does not believe that truth, beauty, and goodness can be found in the Church. And a lot of times, that’s on us, as members of the Church. If we’re not willing to engage with questions and doubts, it’s going to seem as though we’re afraid of the truth. And that is a surefire way to send people looking elsewhere for answers.

Historically, there are two ways to question the Church. The first is the way of Zechariah (not to throw him under the bus, but this is not the good way). When faced with a seemingly impossible proclamation from an angel, he says, “‘How can I be sure of this?’” (Lk 1:18). Essentially, he wants a sign before he will accept the angel’s message. The second way is the way of Mary (the good way). Mary is faced with a similarly incredible proclamation from an angel, and she responds in like fashion (or so it would seem): “‘How can this be…?’” (Lk 1:34).

According to Blessed John Henry Newman, “Ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt.” The crucial difference between Zechariah’s response and Mary’s response is that Zechariah doubts. He refuses to believe until God has proved Himself. Mary, on the other hand, accepts the angel’s Annunciation while at the same time expressing confusion – and asking for answers. She doesn’t ignore the difficulty of the message; rather, she looks to God’s messenger for answers when she doesn’t understand.

[Mary] doesn’t ignore the difficulty of the message; rather, she looks to God’s messenger for answers when she doesn’t understand.

(If you’re interested in the difficulties vs. doubts question, Father Dwight Longenecker explains Newman’s quote much better than I can in this article. http://www.ncregister.com/site/article/blessed-john-henry-newman-explains-faith-doubts-and-difficulties)

One last thing that is helpful for me, when thinking about individual difficulties with the faith:… I like to think of reality as this huge, beautiful tapestry that God has sewn together. So many beautiful threads come together to make this tapestry of reality. Some of the threads are moral teachings, some of the threads are natural law, some of the threads are insights of the saints, some are the sacraments, some are scientific discoveries, and so on. But if you take any of them out of the larger context of the tapestry, they stop making sense. Not only that, but within the tapestry, every thread holds the other threads in place. So when we ask, “Why does the Church teach X?” we may not be asking the question correctly. Perhaps a better question would be, “How does this teaching fit into the larger reality God is showing us?” When we look at everything around that one thread, we’ll be able to see how it is supported by other teachings and truths. And the more we look at how all of the threads come together, the better we’ll be able to see the whole tapestry. I certainly can’t see the whole tapestry myself. From what I’ve seen, though, it looks like an icon of the merciful face of God.

I am a devout Catholic. I am a feminist.  I am single. I am not a virgin, but I have come to believe in the virtue of chastity and I am earnestly striving to embody that virtue in my life and in relationships, and to live with a pure heart. I believe part of that means reserving sexual intercourse for the Sacrament of Matrimony. I also believe that most of the purity and chastity and abstinence-only rhetoric that exists out there in mainstream Catholic/Christian circles and in Youth Ministry circles is harmful, misguided, and deeply sexist.

As a single, female millennial, this topic is close to my heart because sex and marriage are pretty relevant to my generation, as well as to this season of my life personally. We constantly read about the prevalence of hookup culture andrape culture (#metoo), or about why men won’t marry women anymore, as well as articles lauding or decrying sexual freedom and liberation. In the U.S., our culture is becoming more starkly divided and polarized between progressives and conservatives, and largely along topics most closely concerned with sex and family planning (eg: abstinence-only education, abortion, birth control access, gay marriage, etc.). There is so much screaming and anger and hurt and frustration that no one is hearing each other. We have to find a middle road. We have to examine our own biases and faults, and rectify our wrongs. As Christians, we need to re-think the “purity culture” we’ve been promoting.

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What is “purity culture”?

Purity balls. Purity rings. Virginity pledges. Modesty blogs. All of these are primarily targeted at young Christian (primarily conservative) women, and from an incredibly early age. Due to the disproportionate emphasis placed on young women - rather than young men- to remain “pure,” imbalance and inequality is rampant. Young women are taught to believe that their virginity is one of (if not THE) most important things about them. They are taught that their purity is equated with possessing virginity, which is equated with their value and overall dignity. Meanwhile, men are taught to value (some) women’s virginity (much more highly than their own), which then makes virgin women a kind of commodity to acquire.

(Women) are taught that their purity is equated with possessing virginity, which is equated with their value and overall dignity.

While purity balls are less common among Catholic Christians, they’re rooted in much of the same purity culture that is shared between Catholic and Evangelical Christians. Purity balls reflect, perhaps, the extreme end of purity culture, where young girls’ purity is connected with their fathers’ pride and the virginity pledges these young girls make are to their fathers. Girls learn that maintaining their virginity is a behavior that is linked with pleasing their dads and receiving their love and approval. (Talk about enmeshment… that will have to be another blog post.)

You don’t see purity balls for young men and their mothers, where young boys promise their moms that they will remain virgins. Not that I’m saying we should - but because of this imbalance, young girls learn that they are meant to be the gatekeepers of purity, of sexuality, and that they are responsible for upholding the behavior of men. And if they aren’t pure enough, then these women are responsible for leading men into sin.  Which makes sense, right? Because “men just don’t know how to control themselves,” and …”because men are just so much more sexually driven than women are.”

These perspectives, whether held consciously or subconsciously, fail to characterize men and women realistically - missing both their equal innate, holy, human sexuality and their equal capacity for self-mastery. And these perspectives are deeply harmful when they become a central part of our socialization. Let me explain.

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How “purity culture” affects young minds

I majored in Psychology and I work in Youth Ministry, and from having been a teen and from working with teenagers I know this: they’re young and, yes - horny; they have still-developing prefrontal cortexes and slightly immature impulse control. Their beloved, blessed, and swiftly changing human bodies are flooded with hormones and their minds are inundated with sexualized images in the media that they’re constantly absorbing through screens. The topic of sex is deeply important to teens, so it’s incredibly vital that they are educated about it scientifically as well as spiritually, emotionally, and ethically, ideally from an early age, before the hormones kick in. The thing is, teenagers are becoming young adults, and the way their sexual identities develop in these years can have tremendous impact on their personal development and relationships into their adulthood. And each of them as an individual contributes to a larger society and culture, and ultimately how we form society and culture influences how we shape the world around us.

This understanding is consistent with the Catechism of the Catholic Church’s understanding of chastity:

Chastity represents an eminently personal task; it also involves a cultural effort, for there is "an interdependence between personal betterment and the improvement of society.” Chastity presupposes respect for the rights of the person, in particular the right to receive information and an education that respect the moral and spiritual dimensions of human life. (2344)

But unfortunately this is not the message that is often conveyed.

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“Purity Culture” messages getting sent to teens

This summer I was at a Catholic youth conference with my teens where one of the speakers, known for speaking about the topic of chastity, stated, “when you have sex with someone your souls become one soul.” This person was speaking about the importance of reserving sex for your future spouse, and not having sex with “someone else’s future spouse.”

My gut tightened, my fists and jaw clenched, and I seethed with frustration that a person in a position of respect and influence in the Church would say that to a room filled with impressionable teenagers. To me, that borders on spiritual abuse. While I do believe the speaker’s intention was benevolent, and their approach to talking about chastity is to overly spiritualize and romanticize sex, love, and virginity, in the hopes of making chastity appealing to young teens, that approach is still a problematic and harmful one.

First of all, from a theological standpoint, that statement is simply not true. Your soul is eternal and it’s YOURS - nobody else’s. While sex does allow spiritually and physiologically for deep intimacy with another person, you still are your own person. But, to suggest otherwise to a room full of teenagers who are not theologians, especially when some of them might already have had sex with people they do not plan to marry is basically saying “if you have already done that, well, then your soul is infinitely bonded with that other schmo’s soul and now you can never share your soul, or heart, or life with someone you might one day like to marry” or  “you should probably marry that guy/girl you lost your virginity to because now your souls are one soul.” (The latter idea was the prevalent mindset less than a century ago. In the 1950s, my grandmother at 15 was coerced to marry the man she lost her virginity to and conceived my mother with - he was 18. He was abusive and they divorced two years later, yet she wasn’t able to get an annulment from the Catholic Church until the 1970s, and refrained from receiving the Eucharist for decades).

At a different youth conference I attended five years prior, I attended a workshop with my teens led by another speaker who took a more fear-based approach to talking about sex. This speaker took the scare-tactics approach, exclaiming the staggering statistics about STIs (“One in four of you in this room has Chlamydia!!!”), and went on to exhort “if my kids ever had sex before marriage I’d wring their necks” and even saying “sex isn’t about love” (in response to the question of “well, what if I feel like I’m in love with a person?”). Again, this is deeply spiritually abusive, yet this speaker is considered a well-reputed “chastity” speaker. If teens are effectively being scared into abstinence, then that may lead to all kinds of neuroses and/or sexual dysfunction in their adult lives - and if the scare tactics don’t work, then you’ve lost  their trust and perhaps even pushed them away from not only chastity, but their deeper faith and relationship with God.

Not to mention, being chaste isn’t solely about abstaining from sex before marriage.And you can still be pure and chaste even if you’re not a virgin, whether you’re unmarried or married.

But that is not the message that “purity culture” evangelizes. Often the Church relies too heavily on instilling a fear of Hell (because fear is an effective motivator of behavior), but ultimately, that is not what we as Christians are called to orient around. Jesus repeatedly encourages us not to fear, and to be led by love.

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A working definition for “chastity”

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church:

Chastity means the successful integration of sexuality within the person and thus the inner unity of man in his bodily and spiritual being. (2337)

If chastity is about inner unity and integration, then why does purity culture lead to such a disintegrated understanding of self and sexuality? For one, we don’t talk openly about sexuality with young people, but rather - with fear and anxiety, and that fear and anxiety is what we instill in young people, which carries over into adulthood. Or we talk about sex in vague, oversimplified, or over-romanticized terms, leading to unrealistic expectations around sexuality, and how very human it is.

How can we integrate something in ourselves that we fear or that we don’t understand or know much about?

How can we integrate our spirit with our flesh if we are taught that our flesh is intrinsically sinful or depraved?

Keep reading Part Two of “Problems with Purity Culture” here.

If you spend any amount of time reading about social justice issues on or offline, I would be willing to bet cold hard cash that you’ve encountered the term “intersectionality.” People calling for more of it, calling for none of it, debating its existence, flopping around while shouting “BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN??”

Maybe I’m alone on that last part?

The short answer is, intersectionality is “the oppression and discrimination resulting from the overlap of an individual’s various social identities:”

Before we dive in I want to make an important caveat. I am approaching this discussion from my own privilege as a middle-class American white woman. I am primarily speaking to other white women. Women of color don’t need me to explain intersectionality to them, they live it every day. I’m not an expert. I just firmly believe that it’s our responsibility to educate ourselves and not place that burden on our sisters of color, so I’m sharing the love.

The term “intersectionality” was coined by legal scholar Dr. Kimberle Crenshaw in 1989. If you want to stretch your academic muscles, her original paper is an excellent read. The catalyst for this work is that Black women were having difficulty proving in multiple court cases that they were uniquely discriminated against because they were specifically Black and female. White women were (and, let’s be real, are) the default when discussing women’s issues, and Black men were the default when discussing race. It put a name to an old reality -- that women of color, in this instance specifically Black women in America, face oppression because of both their race and their gender. More broadly, it opened the doors to understanding that it is possible for one person to face oppression on multiple fronts.

It put a name to an old reality -- that women of color, in this instance specifically Black women in America, face oppression because of both their race and their gender.

So what does that mean for Catholic feminism? Embracing an intersectional approach to social justice provides a framework for navigating complex issues to which our privilege otherwise might blind us. Rebecca Bratten Weiss, philosopher and author at Suspended in Her Jar, sums it up best with this paragraph from her essay entitled Catholicism and Feminism: “This ought to be exactly the direction that Catholic thought on social issues should take. If we truly are the universal church we can’t confine ourselves to promoting the ends of any one cultural group. Catholicism should never be appropriated to enforce the ends simply of American culture, or western culture, or masculine culture, if these ends involve the exclusion of others.”

The easiest place to start understanding how to apply intersectionality for most Catholic feminists is abortion. A statistic frequently brought up by fellow members of the pro-life movement is that a pregnant women of color is 5 times as likely to end her pregnancy via abortion as a white woman.

Unfortunately, it’s a statistic frequently weaponized and deployed  to shut down discussions about race and the Black Lives Matter movement. An intersectional approach to this issue acknowledges that yes, women of color in America are more likely to choose abortion than white women.

What are the reasons for this?

We can start by recognizing the impact that the intersection of racism and sexism plays in that statistic, and asking questions.

How is it influenced by systemic racism and generational poverty?

How does the very real danger of simply giving birth in America as a woman of color play into that decision?

How does our current approach to crisis pregnancy care and fertility awareness education center white, middle-class women and families?

We can sit with these questions, and listen to what our sisters of color have to say to us. Listen to learn, and to do better, not to react.

In beginning to look through the lens of intersectionality, and not just eschewing it as the latest social justice buzzword, we can develop greater empathy for the people around us, dismantle the prejudices and bigotry that unknowingly take root in our hearts, and begin doing the work of fully living out the radical gospel of Christ.

Back in November, #thxbirthcontrol was trending all over social media. There were many stories about how birth control has treated women with health problems or helped them in other ways, and birth control was celebrated as a key factor for achieving gender equality.

As both a Catholic and feminist, I think it is unwise how much we praise birth control. First consider that NFP may actually be more effective at helping to achieve gender equality. Secondly, with regards to women’s health, birth control is often prescribed in place of providing better care to uncover the true source of health issues specific to women (and there are medical doctors who agree).

I liked being in control of my cycle.

I used birth control for about three and a half years. I started it because I didn’t want to get my period while I was on a huge backpacking trip where I would have very limited access to running water. I kept using it even though I wasn’t sexually active because I liked being in control of my cycle. Right after I got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, I learned about some of the risks of birth control and stopped using it. Interestingly enough, my depression improved and my formerly low thyroid values became normal by my next check-up. That year, I started learning how to chart my fertility cycle as part of my marriage prep. Though NFP has been challenging at times, I am also incredibly grateful for this tool. Like those women who are thanking birth control, I want to share why NFP is important to me.

But before I get into five reasons I want to say #thxNFP, I want to add two disclaimers. First, I am not trying to shame women who use birth control. I respect there are a lot of underlying factors I have no way of knowing; I just want to present a lesser-known alternative. Second, I am not a medical professional. These are just my perspectives and experiences.

Without further ado, here’s why this Catholic feminist is grateful for NFP.

1) It works.

As a type 1 diabetic, being pregnant poses risks both for myself and my unborn child. However, if I conceive when my diabetes is better controlled, the risk for my child becomes the same as it would for a child with a healthier mother, and my risk is reduced. The stakes are high, but using the Creighton Model has helped me avoid conception for a year and a half. And, when my health is better and it is safer for me to conceive, I know that I have a much higher chance of conceiving.

2) Knowledge is power.

There are so many jokes about how women are a mystery, but our fertility cycles shouldn’t be part of that. Very few women fit the “typical” cycle. By charting, we can see how our cycle is being affected by different factors. For example, if I’m having a stressful month, I don’t get the added stress when my period is late, because I already know I ovulated later than normal. Charting has also allowed me to better understand how hormonal fluctuations affect my health. Which leads me to my next point...

Very few women fit the “typical” cycle.

3) As someone with multiple chronic illnesses, more information about my body is helpful.

I’m an engineer so I love data, and NFP gives me a wealth of it. I appreciate how charting my cycle helps me understand how different parts of my fertility cycle impact my blood sugar. There are so many different factors that affect my blood sugar, so knowing what is going on with my hormones helps me eliminate one cause of the fluctuations. For example, I know when I have my period, I will have stubbornly high blood sugar. I know when I’m ovulating,  I will have slightly elevated blood sugar. And I know that early in my cycle,  my blood sugar will drop. Having this information helps me keep tighter control on my blood sugar levels, which benefits my overall health. I’ve also been able to better understand how the changes in my hormones will impact my IBS and my mental health issues.

4) There are no side effects from NFP.

Simply put, there are a ton of scary side effects from hormonal contraception. There also isn’t a lot of information about how not having a period can affect your health long term, but the information out there should at least raise some concerns. Like any drug, there are medical  risks and benefits. Even if I became an atheist, I still wouldn’t want to put my body at risk for the side effects of birth control. For me, the benefit of having sex whenever my husband and I want isn’t worth nausea, depression, increased risk of some forms of cancer, potential for blood clots, risk of infertility, and more. NFP has given me the same outcome - not conceiving - while preventing any side effects and actually giving me health benefits.

5) It sanctifies my husband and I.

As much as I appreciate NFP, I’d be lying if I said it was easy. As Katie Prejean McGrady says “NFP can be hard and challenging, a little confusing, sometimes disheartening and frustrating, occasionally a romance zapper, but in the end, worth it.” These challenges bring graces to our lives. They help us grow in virtue. They help us grow together as a couple. They push us to trust God’s will. Our Vocation as a married couple is to see our spouse get to Heaven, and though there are so many other ways that we will experience (and do experience), NFP is a tangible way we grow together right now.

Challenges bring graces to our lives.

Let’s be real: NFP is a lot harder than taking a pill. Your doctor will question you. Your mom will be surprised that she still isn’t a grandmother yet. You and your husband will sigh in frustration when it is only one day after peak. You will never look at the word “stretchy” in the same way again.

But it is worth it.

Thank you NFP for empowering me to know about my body.

Thank you NFP for helping me avoid dangerous side effects and helping me better manage some chronic health conditions.

Thank you NFP for sanctifying Ben and I.

My mother booked an Airbnb for the 100th anniversary of the Miracle of the Sun in Fatima, on October 13th, 2017, two years in advance. No matter where we would be, or what our circumstances might be like then, it was certain that we would be in Fatima to celebrate. When I say we, I mean that my mom called me to inform me that I’d be going with her.

I’m not sure what lies at the heart of my mother’s fondness for Fatima, except that she is a superfan of every Marian apparition and Mary herself. I was her first child, and when I was born she gave me the name Mary and, carrying me out of St. Mary's hospital at a few days old, dedicated and entrusted me to Our Lady in front of a mural of her in the lobby. Growing up, she would take my brother and I to meet what seemed like everyone within driving distance who claimed to see visions of the Virgin Mary, from small apartments in Indianapolis to farms in Kentucky and supernatural light shows in Cincinnati. She helped arrange speaking engagements for visionaries and carted us to day-long conferences about apparitions. As a child, I was jealous of the visionaries, and always tried to pray, be a good girl, and squint hard at the sky, and always felt disappointed that I wasn't chosen to see Our Lady.

Adulthood has given me a sort of distance from Marian apparitions, associating excessive devotion with the innocent faith of childhood.

Adulthood has given me a sort of distance from Marian apparitions, associating excessive devotion with the innocent faith of childhood. It's not that I don't believe in them, I just don't find that meditating on them brings me that much closer to God or helps me develop spiritually. Part of me wonders why they are even necessary, or why people find them so important, when we have access to the Bible, centuries of Church teaching, and the sacraments, especially the Eucharist. The messages of the apparitions don't figure too much into my daily life and, while I'm willing to accept Church approval for them, I also find comfort in the allowance for doubt in them. I believe that God is constantly working in our lives, but also find it hard to wholeheartedly embrace this as one of the ways in which He does, and swallow without complaint all of the myths, legends, and cults that have sprung up around each one. There seems to be a perilously fine line between authentic visions and hallucinations or psychosis, making it even harder to sort out the meaning of apparitions for their time and  for us today. The sentimentality and sappiness surrounding them is often sickeningly-sweet, overly focused on prophecy, so celebratory of works that it's an inch shy of depending on those works for salvation, and seems somewhat distant from anything Jesus ever actually said in the Gospels. In fact, their following seems to take priority over the Gospels at times in a way I find almost vulgar, like when I see profile pictures featuring Our Lady on social media spouting insults and expressing outright contempt for the poor.  When I've toured apparition sites in the past, there also seemed to be a very off-putting ongoing contest of who could show off their faith in the most pious and devout, yet simultaneously flashy, way. This kind of “Who Does It Best: Catholic Edition” turns sincere and genuine faith in God’s love into a grotesque, pharisaical competition where prayers, clothing, and trinkets give us a chance to signal our superiority in all things Catholic. The tools of our faith become more like prizes in a game, an inventory we collect as we go from Basic to Expert Level. I want to believe that the people that buy these things do so out of an honest love of their faith, but it’s overwhelmingly difficult for me to not wonder why there’s a market for them in the first place.

Fatima is one apparition that is particularly difficult for me. I don’t have anything against Our Lady of Fatima, but I come up short when I dig for some sort of emotional tie to her or the apparition. I look at the pictures of Francisco, Jacinta, and Lucia and wonder why God needed to show them Hell, or why they felt they needed to impose such harsh penances on themselves when their lives seemed hard enough to begin with. It doesn't make sense to me why that would be the only way to get a message across - a message that, for all intents and purposes, did not seem to sink in. Despite the warnings, the miracle of the sun, days the children spent without water or food, and rosaries prayed, the world still endured World War II, the Soviet Union, and all of the other crimes of the 20th century. And then there is the division caused today by speculation and conspiracy theories:  what has been revealed of the secrets and when, whether Russia really has been consecrated and whether the popes have been avoiding fulfilling a request from Our Lady on purpose, even though the reasons why they might do so are murky at best. At worst, the conspiracy theories seem to amount to an unnecessary frothing up of mankind’s desire to have something to fear and blame for calamity, an easy go-to for those who would rather preach paranoia, doom, and fire-and-brimstone than love and care for the poor, with convenient tie-ins to politics and nationalism.

When I turn my magnifying glass for other people’s underlying psychological issues onto myself, I realize that there may be something deeper to my feelings and apprehension, blind spots holding me back from spiritual growth while I luxuriate in moral self-satisfaction and good taste.

Despite my misgivings about the apparitions and their fan clubs, I wonder if part of my disgust comes from hardness within my heart that keeps me from appreciating them. When I turn my magnifying glass for other people’s underlying psychological issues onto myself, I realize that there may be something deeper to my feelings and apprehension, blind spots holding me back from spiritual growth while I luxuriate in moral self-satisfaction and good taste. Thus, I begin this trip by eagerly anticipating what I might learn from Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal, Our Lady of Lourdes, and Our Lady of Fatima, knowing that the task of absorbing their messages has not been completed in my life, and wondering what they have to teach me. I try my best to be open to the idea that the thing we might need the most is an uncomfortable encounter with the things we dislike, and leave room for the possibility of grace to transform me.

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Even from the very beginning of this trip, it is clear that God considers the fancy European vacation I planned for myself to actually be a pilgrimage. By that, I mean that God almost immediately starts throwing events and people at me that will test me and show me where I am lacking in virtue, in order to remind me that this is not all about me and that there are greater things at work.

When I travel, I prefer to blend in as much as possible, attempt to communicate in the local language, get almost everywhere on foot in order to absorb all that I can, leave room in my schedule for wandering and spontaneity, and divert from the beaten path, avoiding hordes of tourists at all costs. As an independent, slightly-introverted person, I detest all of the complications of sticking with a group: planning, waiting, deciding what to do, disagreeing, and trying to negotiate a conclusion, dealing with inconveniences and attending to each one's needs, all the while mortified at how obviously we're drawing attention to ourselves. I've lived on three continents and consider myself to be somewhat more sophisticated, educated, and capable than the average traveler. I do loads of research online and am always in search of an "authentic", rather than a "touristy", experience.

I am immediately forced to confront the luxury of indulgence in selfishness that is my life, the sense of superiority and pride in which my ideas about myself are deeply rooted, my desire to control both events and other people, and how much weight I give to the opinions of strangers.

As it turns out, God will ensure that this trip is exactly the opposite of what I would want for myself. I am immediately forced to confront the luxury of indulgence in selfishness that is my life, the sense of superiority and pride in which my ideas about myself are deeply rooted, my desire to control both events and other people, and how much weight I give to the opinions of strangers. From the moment we started planning, the group has ballooned to eight people: Me, my mom, and six members of my mom's prayer group - all of whom are grandparents, have varying degrees of travel experience (the least amount of experience being none at all) and physical capacities. None of them speak more than a few words in the local languages, and it is more or less immediately obvious that I will become the default tour guide as the only multi-lingual and tech-savvy young person. The plans I made for myself instantly become the plans of a group that I never really had any desire to lead.

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Lourdes

This is my second trip to Lourdes. My first trip was as a young grad student kicking off six months of living in Europe. I went for the feast day on February 11th, overjoyed that I had such an amazing opportunity to be able to arrange my travel around a feast day celebration, but I quickly found myself overwhelmed by the pushy, loud, and often rude crowds. I have some fond memories of the trip, especially the feeling after getting dunked in the baths that I described at the time as a “jolt of espresso to the soul” to an American reporter for a magazine that happened to be standing right outside. I also had fun seeing all the sights associated with St. Bernadette and collecting stamps in the “passport” provided to tourists, learning the Hail Mary in Italian as I waited in line, and seeing the glow of thousands of candles in the procession. I did feel more connected to the story of Lourdes and the person of St. Bernadette, but more than anything Lourdes ended up as a destination that I could cross off my list. I never felt like I needed to go back, like there was more waiting there for me to discover. In fact, it’s more like a place that I don’t really want to go back to, associated forever in my mind with excitable sentimentality and appalling tackiness.

On my second trip, it appears that nothing has changed. Rather than being a place of meditation and communion with God, I feel like I'm at Catholic Disneyland, waiting in exasperation for the next thrill ride and fighting off uncharitable thoughts about the moneylenders in the Temple. I can't relate to the candy-colored trinkets, the lacy, diamond-studded veils, glow-in-the-dark statues, or rosaries which double as jewelry. I have no emotional reaction to those things, at least not like my mother, who passes through the streets in a constant chorus of "ooh" and "ahh" and "awwww". To me, they all look more or less the same.

However, because I had already seen the major sights on my first trip, I’m able to relax a little more. I ignore the pressure to see and do everything, and find myself using the opportunity to observe the personal interactions among the pilgrims. I find that it’s much easier to be charitable when I’m not stressed about whether I’m able to fit everything in and how I can maximize my experience.  Not caring too much about this leg of the trip, in the end, gives me different eyes that take everything in and are able to appreciate the humans in the crowds for the people they are.  Amidst all the commotion, it is comforting to see all of the mothers and grandmothers and their wild, passionate devotion. I see a grandmother from Spain turn to her son and insist that she's going to buy a trinket for his daughter. He tries to refuse, but she insists. I see this kind of insistence, this no-nonsense, this-is-how-it-is kind of attitude toward the faith reflected in the faces of the women in the crowds from all over the world that flow and pulse through the streets.  I recognize something in their faces and voices that I remember from my grandmother and see in my mother. In that moment, I feel a deep kinship with other Catholics around the world, raised in faith by generations of grandmothers in a faith passed down from their grandmothers. It's a pure faith, one you can't argue with. Any arguments ultimately end in yielding to a definitive proclamation of truth, and that's that.

In that moment, I feel a deep kinship with other Catholics around the world, raised in faith by generations of grandmothers in a faith passed down from their grandmothers.

The crowds, overwhelmingly older women, rub the rocks of the grotto with their hands, eyes closed, prayers dancing on their lips. They fill jug after enormous jug with water with special water. They elbow each other to advance in line to get closer to the baths that for generations have been praised as a miraculous cure-all. They light giant candles with colorful, intricate designs that represent their towns. In all of these actions, one thing is clear: we long for physical manifestations of faith and closeness with God. Even though many of us may have a  rock-solid faith and volumes of intellectual knowledge, there is still a persistent hunger for things to kiss, touch, feel, and smell, earthly reminders of the articles of our faith and the relationships we cherish with God and Mary, and we thrive on seeing the workings of supernatural grace in the world. Even the baths are a true sensory experience. Whereas on my first trip they had been warm, this time they were so shockingly cold that it was impossible to focus on anything but the freezing water. It reduced me, for a moment, to the most primitive part of my brain as it forced the breath out of me. There was something invigorating about it, though, as if every cell in my body awoke in delight.

Seeing this devotion to the physical sheds a new light on Marian apparitions for me: perhaps God, knowing our human need for the tangible, has given us the gift of these visits to give us more things on Earth that we can touch, a means of connection to His love that goes beyond those found inside churches. Still, their age makes me wonder if Lourdes will continue to see the same hordes in future years, or if the crowds will thin along with the hair of the pilgrims.

Of course, there are also young people here, many of whom lead the older ones by the hand, or push lines of pilgrims in wheelchairs. It occurs to me that this, too, is part of carrying on the faith. We uphold the legacy of generations before us by grasping hands that have prayed thousands of rosaries, as part of the gift and duty of receiving the faith from those hands. It is the union of young hands with old that lets me hope in the passing down of traditions, and it also gives a striking visual of obedience, the older people allowing themselves in complete trust to be lead in the right direction. As I lead a group of my own, and get frustrated with the members in my charge when they wander off on their own and I have to go searching for them, I think about how frustrating it must be for God to direct me on where to go, and give me all the tools to get there, and then watch me wander off on my own.   And yet, somehow, He persists in loving me. I pray for patience and the obedient faith I see before me, and well as gratitude for all that I have.

It is the union of young hands with old that lets me hope in the passing down of traditions, and it also gives a striking visual of obedience, the older people allowing themselves in complete trust to be lead in the right direction.

While we're in Lourdes, my mother tells me of a time when I was a child, and rushed home on my bike, declaring that Blessed Mother told me to pray a rosary. I have no memory of this, but she is proud that at the time she believed me at once, more quickly than other visionaries' mothers. This reminder leaves me in a strange place, not believing that I made it up, but not trusting myself entirely, either. I remember how, as a child, I loved the mystical. I talked to God and heard from Him as naturally as a conversation with a friend. I remember how, when I prayed the Rosary, I would try to imbue the words with as much emotion as possible, stare tearfully at pictures of the Virgin, sing hymns from church for fun, excitedly describe the pageantry of liturgical seasons to my non-Catholic father, or look for signs of the supernatural all around me.

As I survey the crowds that embrace the walls of the grotto, tears falling from their eyes, I wonder if I have dismissed too easily as childish a vital part of my faith from that time: purely sentimental, emotionally-charged affection. Could part of my difficulties be due to attempts to over-intellectualize my faith? Do I see this kind of affection as silly or weak? Could I be distancing myself from my feelings out of embarrassment or shame? While I haven't abandoned attempts to talk to God and still seek after mystical experiences, I do notice that much of my faith rests on the ability to have arguments, know the right answers, or at the very least have other people think I'm smart. I realize how numb I walk around feeling in my daily life, and how near-constant arguments on Facebook only contribute to the guard I put up and the distance I put between myself and the live, beating heart at the center of our faith. And it's here, in Lourdes, that I see the great treasure that we have gotten from women throughout the centuries: the open displays of sentiment which balance the often cold intellectualism of theology. Both reveal truths of the works of God in the world, and for me to dismiss affection as childish has been to turn my back on one of the easiest ways to be childlike before God.

And it's here, in Lourdes, that I see the great treasure that we have gotten from women throughout the centuries: the open displays of sentiment which balance the often cold intellectualism of theology.

In confession, a priest from Africa stares into my eyes as if he were staring fixedly at my soul, and he tells me: "there has never been a second when you haven't been loved by God." Tears stream down my face.

♦♦♦

Fatima

I can say without any exaggeration whatsoever that Fatima, and Portugal in general, is the most stressful trip of my life. God answers my prayer of patience with what seem like infinite tests of it, and my prayer of gratitude with the incomparable gratitude I feel when it's all over.

To the general stress of playing tour guide and making arrangements for travel, activities, and lodging for everyone, add interpreting during a medical emergency in a language I don't speak and understand only a fraction of. Then add to that waking up with bedbug bites, the beginnings of a cold, and 440 wildfires that surround us on all sides, produce a snowfall of ashes, and shut down the highways, stranding us and forcing me to find an emergency hotel  for all of us for the night. I only get the chance to do about half of the things I had laid out in my plans, I'm exhausted the entire time, and feel the stress from my responsibilities pumping constantly through my body, which causes inflammation and intense aches and pains that the baths at Lourdes did nothing for. Even during the moments when I manage to be alone, and I think that I can finally pray in silence, the members of my group I'm discreetly trying to escape manage to find me in the crowd of thousands, by complete chance. My last night in Portugal was spent throwing up from food poisoning I got from a fancy food market in Lisbon, which, because of delays from traveling with a group, was the only thing in Lisbon on my list of plans that I got to do. Throughout the experience, I grit my teeth at the comments I get on Instagram and Facebook expressing enthusiasm and jealousy at my carefully-curated photos. My pictures start to feel somewhat like a socially-obligated lie, since I can’t broadcast the reality, and yet somehow it’s a lie that I’m addicted to.

My pictures start to feel somewhat like a socially-obligated lie, since I can’t broadcast the reality, and yet somehow it’s a lie that I’m addicted to.

I spend most of the day of the 100th anniversary of the Miracle of the Sun overwhelmed and trying to find a way to escape the crowds and noise and get my hands on a bottle of good, cheap wine.Despite the commotion and my sour attitude, though, I am charmed by the groups of people from all over the world, holding signs that represent where they come from and wearing traditional dress. I continue to marvel at the same lessons of Lourdes, and wonder where I'd be if I hadn't had my own no-nonsense grandmother to teach me about Marian apparitions and other lessons. I watch the crowds during the night vigil light candles and raise them while singing to Mary, and follow with intense devotion the statue of Our Lady of Fatima that holds in her crown the bullet that shot John Paul II. Their song is pure feeling and expression, with no self-consciousness, a clear message that the thing that matters here is faith and the expression of it. I don't necessarily understand the attachment to and celebration of the statue itself, and don't seem to feel the same sentiment everyone else does, to the point where I feel like an alien getting an introduction to the religious customs of Earth. I'm grateful, however, for the beauty of this enormous gathering and for the opportunity to witness pure faith in action. The enthusiasm is somewhat contagious, and I feel that I'm part of something bigger that I don't need to understand. The pilgrims throw all of themselves into their worship with the assurance that they are loved completely, returning the love they have experienced from God, and sometimes I guess that looks like raising a candle and singing while you follow around a statue because it bears the closest resemblance to what we are trying to arrive at in heaven.

A few days later, the crowds have dispersed. The season is officially over, and wildfires threaten Fatima from less than 4 miles away, sending an eerie smoke to surround the church and grotto that burns my eyes and throat. I buy large wax candles that I throw into a flaming pyre next to a giant poster of Jacinta that reads "Stop Offending God." It is strange to cast the representation of a prayer into a violent, roaring fire. This act seems to have no relationship to the gentle, collected one of lighting a single flame in front of a statue and meditating for a few cool minutes.

It is then, in the creepy stillness, facing flames and under threat of wildfire, that I finally start to appreciate and understand the message of Fatima. Our Lady's words are frightening and extreme, but they are ultimately a desperate plea made out of love. Suddenly, I see the humanity of Mary's heart for the world in the way she expresses herself to the children. And since the world didn't listen, we see now what she was trying to prevent, violence upon violence, each act breaking her mother's heart. She tells us truths the way the mothers and grandmothers have done throughout generations, with a firmness that feels harsh but represents concern and care. The stress and responsibility she felt for her flock must have been infinitely stronger and more urgent than the stress I felt for the protection of those under my care, and yet she was and is able to serve God and all of us with the purity of an unselfish heart.

I long for a heart like hers, one that enjoys service and doesn't merely tolerate it, one that is unafraid of the vulnerability of revealing itself to humanity

I stand in the shadow of the grotto, hazy in the smoke, and I long for a heart like hers, one that enjoys service and doesn't merely tolerate it, one that is unafraid of the vulnerability of revealing itself to humanity. I think about how it was the look of sadness on Mary's face that motivated Francisco's desire for penance. I marvel at how it must have been the saddest look he'd ever seen, and realize that the penance that seems extreme and unnecessary represents his childlike love for her and wanting to cheer her up with one of the few things he could do at the time, like the rosary I once rushed home on my bike to pray. I realize that I block myself off from feeling, and harden my own heart, because of how difficult it is to accept love and all that love means, and give love in return. Part of my lack of connection with Mary in particular is fear of my own failures and imperfections, of being compared to her and never failing to come up short. I look at her obedience and see my disobedience, her service next to my selfishness, and project my own disappointment onto Mary's gaze upon me.

The secret of this passionate devotion then reveals itself to me as consisting of the radical love we must have the bravery to let into our hearts. I feel suffering at that moment as God granting me opportunities to grow in the capacity to give and receive love. I see that part of me has been clinging to stress and anxiety as a sort of trophy for all that I was bearing on my shoulders, and contemplate how Mary pondered much more sorrowful things and kept them in her heart without allowing herself to be overtaken by bitterness, questioning of God's motives, or pity-parties. The sorrow she felt was God's own, and I pray that I may take joy in service and think only of God. I am also suddenly grateful for the mercy of never being chosen as a visionary, despite my youthful earnestness, and it suddenly becomes so obvious the way that God gives us only what we need.

Mary pondered much more sorrowful things and kept them in her heart without allowing herself to be overtaken by bitterness, questioning of God's motives, or pity-parties.

In the following days, I feel my heart softening. I begin to appreciate the traits that had annoyed me about my travel group and cherish my ability to serve them in this experience so that they can lean back without worry and be lead. I drink in their enthusiasm and innocent wonder. While it had previously irked me to have most of the weight of responsibility while they remained unaware of the work and stress that went into each decision, I start to admire their ability to remain unaffected by the pressure and make the most out of things. I witness the miraculous transformation of anger into tenderness when I miss out on almost all of my remaining plans because the group takes the time prays over our Airbnb host. I watch the minutes tick by and put all of the suitcases in the car, perhaps because it's the only thing I can do, and I go back to find our middle-aged, normally cynical host sobbing and embracing everyone. Later he writes to tell us that, despite having lived in Fatima all his life, that was the first time he had felt what people go to Fatima to experience. When I see how much more beautiful God's plans are than mine, my grip over my life and future loosens. I feel my body releasing internal tension, I breathe in and out, and trust that things will be as they should be, if only for a few minutes, before I have to coordinate our next check-in.

The food poisoning and sleepless night of throwing up is one final lesson in letting go. God doesn't seem to want to let me leave this country without emphasizing both suffering and renunciation. After I've left, I am alone, my illness resolves, and I am able to feel the most intense gratitude and joy for having lived through the experience. I eventually go back to my Los Angeles apartment  with a renewed desire to listen carefully for God's voice, find the moments of living grace and divine work among the mundane and banal tedium and all of the small and unimportant things that worry us constantly. I find prayer easier, and my life magically falls into a balance that allows for silence, rest, and joy. I also find myself more sympathetic to outward displays of religious sentiment, rather than lumping them all into a “holier-than-thou” competition. The dissonance I felt between my Instagram feed and my lived experience highlights a constant internal struggle that I feel between my faith and how much of it I can show to the world, but now there is  a new, unique comfort in letting that struggle dissolve and embracing the vulnerability of transmitting my inner truth to the world. The unapologetic displays of faith I saw in Europe, along with the inability to avoid looking like anything other than a clueless tourist, force me to confront the times that I don’t fully embrace myself, or care more about others’ perception of me and how well I am blending into my environment than appreciating the value of who I am.

Most of all, I sink into the rediscovery of divine love, and allow myself to feel it filling up my body without feeling guilty or overly conscious of unworthiness and imperfection, and relinquish my desires to manipulate or control my future, able to trust more than ever that God holds all things in His hands.

Far too many of us have been there.

You are walking in a park, or perhaps huffing and puffing and sweating while on a run, when someone crudely comments on your body or hits on you. Classic catcall.

Your may respond like:

Or if, like me, your feisty side takes over, you may be like

Campaigns against street harassment aren’t new. The scope of this global issue is such that Marlène Schiappa, the French junior minister for gender equality, recently spoke of a new law that, if passed, would impose fines for catcalling. A trendy topic among feminists, women and men are speaking out against catcalls and proposing different ways for how women can respond in the moment.

Which makes me wonder - as Catholic women, what might be our response?

From a Catholic perspective, I would argue that catcalling is problematic because:

1. It is an abuse of the gift of speech.
2. It insults the dignity of the person who is catcalled and the person who catcalls.

The theological virtue of charity requires us to love God and “our neighbor as ourselves for the love of God” (CCC 1822). Practicing charity includes doing so with and through our speech. When we make lewd comments about someone, we reduce them to an object for our own gratification or amusement. Catcalls demonstrate a lack of regard for the person to whom they are directed; catcalls serve only the pleasure and whims of the person who makes them. They do not seek to highlight a virtue or laudable quality of the unwilling recipient. They do not constitute an effort to build a genuine relationship with another person.

Catcalls turn the gift of speech into a means of objectification.

Catcalls turn the gift of speech into a means of objectification.

Due to this, catcalling insults the dignity of both persons involved. Created in the image and likeness of God, human beings are created for relationship. Bestowed with the beautiful gift of human language, we can communicate through our words and transmit meaning to others. Charity demands that we use this communication to love God and others, for the love of God. Catcalling insults the dignity of the recipient by reducing them to whatever aspect “inspires” the catcall.

At the same time, catcalling insults the dignity of the one who catcalls, because they were made for far more than that; they were created for relationship with others and, ultimately, with God. Sin damages this relationship: “[i]t wounds the nature of man and injures human solidarity. . . . Sin sets itself against God's love for us and turns our hearts away from it” (CCC 1849 - 1850). Those who catcall are called to exercise the virtue of charity in all things, including speech, yet they abuse the gift of speech when making the decision to catcall. As a result of this sin, they separate themselves from their loving Father and their fellow human beings, with whom they are meant to be in relationship.

I believe that how we respond to catcalling as Catholic women matters.

how we respond to catcalling as Catholic women matters.

It matters because it is an opportunity to defend the gift of speech, our dignity, and the dignity of the person catcalling (as frustrated/irritated/angry with them as we may be).

Each situation may call for a unique response. Instead of prescribing a particular formula through which to appropriately respond to catcalls, I invite you to determine your own response. But consider the following:

1. Prudence

St. Thomas Aquinas teaches us that the cardinal virtue of prudence constitutes “right reason in action.” This virtue “disposes practical reason to discern our true good in every circumstance and to choose the right means of achieving it” (CCC 1806). In some situations, it may be best - and safest - to simply not respond to a catcall. Perhaps especially if we would only have something uncharitable to say. In other situations, a response may be called for in the interest of our good and the good of the other.

2. Fraternal correction

Charity demands this of us. If we know our brother or sister committed a sin, we ought to correct that sin in order that he or she may not commit this sin again. Fraternal correction must be done in a spirit of beneficence to be truly charitable (CCC 1829). If there is reasonable hope that fraternal correction would lead to - or plant the seeds for - reform, we should sincerely consider it. Will the random man who catcalls you be open to fraternal correction? Maybe, or maybe not. (Realistically, probably not, but I maintain a certain degree of optimism here.) You may, however, have an encounter one day when fraternal correction could be effective.

3. Charity in speech

Lest we respond to one instance of uncharity through speech with another, if we choose to respond, we should ensure that our response is charitable. If we cannot think of anything charitable to say, perhaps we should offer a prayer for that person instead.

Street harassment does not have to be a given in the lives of women. You do not need to tolerate catcalls, nor accept them as something you must simply deal with. We should not have to endure street harassment in the first place. Since it is an unfortunate reality at the moment, however, I believe that a bit of thoughtful reflection about our response could go a long way.

All gifs via giphy.com.

"But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or speech but in deed and in truth." -1 John 3:17-18

In my last post, I shared my thoughts on my role as a consumer, especially in regards to my choices in clothing and in view of the human rights abuses in the fashion industry.

We as women hold enormous purchasing power and influence amongst our families and friends.  Who does most of the shopping for clothes, shoes, and accessories?  We do!  We outfit ourselves, our children, and sometimes even our significant others.

We can use this collective influence to do manifold good for the oft-destitute women who make our clothing.

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We can use this collective influence to do manifold good.

But how?  

The global fashion industry is vast, and the players are many.

I will briefly outline a few of the complexities, but I offer the caveat that I claim no expertise here.  I’m just a concerned Catholic on a mission to figure out how to shop for my family without supporting an industry that exploits other families.  

First, while many companies have a code of ethics, these are wholly voluntary.   Many companies may claim to pay garment workers a wage at least equal to the minimum wage for the country, but this is often far below what would be considered a living wage – that is, for the worker to be able to afford adequate food, shelter, and other basic necessities for their families.

Governments are ill-motivated to increase the minimum wage or enforce international standards and regulations for factory workers, out of concern that the international companies will take their business elsewhere.  As a result, many governments lure companies in with loosely enforced regulations and (#moneysaving) incredibly dangerous working conditions.

Further, the garment factories are usually owned and operated at the local level.  The larger international clothing company has no direct responsibility for the way the factory is run and might only rarely – or never – visit and audit these factories.

The managers thus lack oversight and cut corners in order to meet the otherwise unattainable deadlines and profit margins demanded of them.  This perfect storm is what led to the collapse of the Rana Plaza building in Bangladesh – despite many voiced concerns about the integrity of the building from the workers themselves.  

1,138 people died, and another 2,500 were injured.

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This is where we as thoughtful consumers enter the process – we enter the fray between the companies without accountability and the governments who cannot risk making a stir.

We can, of course, vote with our dollars and choose to purchase our clothing from retailers who pursue sustainable and ethical practices (more on that in the next post).

But pressure also needs to come from us as consumers on mainstream retailers if we want to effect measurable change in the garment industry at large. Brands respond to consumer demands.  

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Brands respond to consumer demands.  

We need to ask our favorite brands pointed questions about their supply chain and demand transparency: Who makes my clothes? Where do you source your cotton – is it from Uzbekistan, at the hands of unpaid laborers? Are the workers free to form associations and advocate for better conditions? How do you ensure their safety?

The organization Fashion Revolution has a list of immediately actionable ways to advocate for the men and women who make our clothes.  

You can join their #whomademyclothes campaign, download templates for writing to your policymakers or favorite brands, and learn how to utilize other forms of social media to spread the word.  

Beyond advocacy, we as Catholic feminists can also change our own shopping habits.  

I hear your questions:  

Does this mean I can never shop at Target or the mall again without pangs of conscience?  Doesn’t all this research take a lot of time?  Will it really make any difference anyway?

I think the best answer to these questions is simply: progress, not perfection.  

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Does this mean I can never shop at Target or the mall again without pangs of conscience?

I have compiled my thoughts into a list for you to consider.

Shopping Thoughtfully as a Catholic Feminist:

1. Support "fair trade" or otherwise ethically produced clothing as your budget allows (stay tuned for my next post for round-up on ethical fashion brands)
2. Shop companies that are making progress in their areas of sustainability, supply chain transparency, or living wages and write to them to keep it up!  (again, see my next post for mainstream companies that are making great progress in this regard as well as resources to evaluate your favorite brands!)
3. Shop thrift or consignment stores.  By shopping secondhand clothing, we are not creating new demand for fast fashion.  This also reduces waste by keeping clothes out of landfills and needing less water/toxic waste that goes into creating new clothes.  Be intentional, however, about "quality over quantity" and resist buying lots of clothes just because they are cheaper.  
4. Simply buy less.  Focus more on quality, enduring fashion, and a cohesive vision for your wardrobe.
5. Shift your mindset.  Are my expectations for how much clothing should cost reasonable?  How much does a pair of jeans actually cost?  How much would a shirt cost to make were the workers paid a living wage?  
6. Recognize the lure and lies of materialism.  This one is last on my list because it challenges me the most.  Of course our clothing is more than merely utilitarian; it can also be beautiful, fun, and a form of self-expression.  But oh! How susceptible I am to the lure of "more = better", retail therapy, and grounding my identity and self-worth in my outward appearance.  

Pope Francis addressed the dangers at the heart of materialism in a homily on September 29, 2013:

These are harsh words which the prophet Amos speaks, yet they warn us about a danger that all of us face. What is it that this messenger of God denounces; what does he want his contemporaries, and ourselves today, to realize? The danger of complacency, comfort, worldliness in our lifestyles and in our hearts, of making our well-being the most important thing in our lives. This was the case of the rich man in the Gospel, who dressed in fine garments and daily indulged in sumptuous banquets; this was what was important for him. And the poor man at his doorstep who had nothing to relieve his hunger? That was none of his business, it didn’t concern him. Whenever material things, money, worldliness, become the centre of our lives, they take hold of us, they possess us; we lose our very identity as human beings. Think of it: the rich man in the Gospel has no name, he is simply "a rich man". Material things, his possessions, are his face; he has nothing else.Let’s try to think: How does something like this happen? How do some people, perhaps ourselves included, end up becoming self-absorbed and finding security in material things which ultimately rob us of our face, our human face? This is what happens when we become complacent, when we no longer remember God.

Dear God, deliver me from my own self-absorption and from turning to material things for security and meaning!

♦♦♦

To learn more about the global fashion industry and ethical fashion, check out some of these great organizations, both on their websites listed below and on their social media sites:

The True Cost (documentary, available on Netflix)

Labour Behind the Label

Fashion Revolution

Clean Clothes Campaign

Stay tuned for my next post when I will include a list of retailers pursuing ethical and sustainable practices, including some surprising mainstream retailers who are making excellent progress!