CULTURE CLASH (LGBTQIA+)
CONFESSIONS OF A
QUEER CATHOLIC BY BIANCA HAWK
A GIRL NEVER FORGETS HER FIRST LESBIAN.
The idea of Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, Holy Communion, Jesus Christ, the Saints, and Holy Mother Mary, live alongside the rights towards all of God’s children. (Yes, even the right to choose.) Things shift in this heart of mine and some things are still learning to make room for the other but such is the growing pain of growing into your own person and out of the mold of hopeful expectations.
I was 19 - a mere months out of high school and many miles from home. She was part of my college I had worked so hard to get into - poured my heart and soul into - standing in the scarred halls with a shaved head and colored lips and piercings and painted eyes. She invited me to sit with a gaggle of other college kids at the table - and me - the shy Catholic girl, cautiously did, feeling the press of my scapular against my breast. I had never seen a queer person so comfortable and out before that time, not that I picked up on anything at first, or that looks define your liking. All of the information that I know now, came with time, the new group of friends taking a spoon to gently crack the sweet innocent mold that had grown around me in my upbringing. They didn’t laugh at my naïvety, tease me for not knowing the context of shared adult jokes, what masturbation was, the idea of bisexuality, polyamory, lesbianism, gay and trans rights, transitioning, of being queer, the concept of gender, or knowing about causes they felt to support. That group of college kids placed the cracks in my shell to break into a wider world I had not yet known. And I thank God for knowing them. I’m not the same person I was at 19. I don’t think anyone is, in retrospect. The ideas and beliefs I held have evolved with me. Being a queer Catholic seems like a contrast of interest, if that’s the case, I’d safely state I’m a walking contradiction. Growing up in the Catholic Church with its nuances has had an impact on the stunted development of my own set of beliefs, instead of the expectations of my elders.
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C U LTU R EC L A S H G A LV E STO N . C O M • M AY/J U N E 2 0 2 2
