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I recently read the FemCatholic article, “Why Women Sometimes Hate Men.” It took time for me to respond because it's a difficult piece for me to read. It's difficult because I, too, have thought about and experienced all that the author describes. She questions where women can find hope in what feels like a hopeless moment, and I get that. When you endure so much of the bad, even unto finding it in your own home, it's easy to lose sight of any selflessness that might exist in the vast group called "men." The author concludes her reflection by encouraging us to appeal to Mary as a gradual way back to faith in men and faith in the Church through yet another round of soul-wrenching sexual scandals that predominantly incriminate men.

When I finished reading her piece, I asked myself which married men of the Bible gave me hope.

Jesus shows us strength and love, but He's the Son of God and the bridegroom of the Church. Of course Jesus shows perfect strength and love because He’s full man and full God. What about the rest of us? Are there any other examples in the Bible of a simple, holy husband who willingly sacrificed much for his wife and children?

The Old Testament gives us many examples of husbands that are neutral (at best) or demonstrate what not to do. Adam, you probably shouldn't throw your wife under the bus before Almighty God. Abraham, you probably shouldn't be so willing to pass your wife off as your sister and share her with whatever ruler wants another wife. Jacob, maybe you shouldn't play favorites. David? Let's not get into it.

The New Testament is different. Within the first couple of chapters of the Gospels, we witness an often named, often overlooked, and amazing husband. It's easy to forget about him because he doesn't draw attention to himself. He is the epitome of St. Paul's imperative in Philippians 2:3 to "humbly regard others as more important than yourselves."

You guessed it - I’m talking about St. Joseph.

God chose St. Joseph to sacrifice and care for Mary as she carried the Messiah in her womb. God chose St. Joseph to be Jesus’ foster father as He grew into adulthood. St. Joseph isn't recorded as saying a single word, but his actions speak volumes about what it means to be the husband who, like Christ, "handed himself over for her."

St. Joseph isn't recorded as saying a single word, but his actions speak volumes about what it means to be the husband who, like Christ, "handed himself over for her."

In taking Mary as his wife, Joseph sacrificed whatever social status was in place for a man who married a virgin. He chose to believe the voice of the angel, that the child she conceived was the Son of God. This was an incredible sacrifice in a time when Levitical law required unwed pregnant women to be stoned (Deuteronomy 22:20-21) or at the very least, as Joseph thought before his dream, to be "put away."

Through bringing Mary and Jesus into Egypt, Joseph gave up whatever clientele as a carpenter he had in Nazareth and Bethlehem.

When he took Mary as his wife, Joseph gave up any sexual rights that accompanied a marriage contract.

In every aspect of Joseph’s life and character, I see someone who selflessly gave up traditional forms of power, protected the most vulnerable, and poured himself out for his wife and Son in the ways that they needed him to in that moment. And he did it all without complaining or trying to manipulate his sacrifices into a position of power.

In [Joseph], I see someone who selflessly gave up traditional forms of power, protected the most vulnerable, and poured himself out for his wife and Son

I know that there are other men like Joseph (or at least those striving to be like him) out there today. You don't hear much about them because, like Joseph, they quietly serve, quietly sacrifice, and quietly regard others as more important than themselves. Although we may not hear about them, they are still there. And maybe you even know of one.

♦♦♦

My own husband gradually became like a St. Joseph.

It took time and we went through dark days. In the thick of it, after what felt like the deepest betrayal, I thought I would never be able to love or be loved the way that I had hoped. My husband, like the author's husband, told me "it was no big deal" after the first revelations. The discovery felt like taking a baseball bat to my heart. The ignorant downplay of it as "no big deal" was akin to setting my heart on fire - a raging fire.

"Fine," I thought, "then he won't mind a little lesson."

I set everything up minutes before my husband came home from work. I had our daughter in her booster seat at the dinner table, turned directly away from an open laptop screen that I set up in the corner of the adjoining room. You could see the laptop easily if you walked through the front door of our tiny apartment, but not if you were sitting at the table. I had a short video on loop with the sound off. My husband walked in, immediately saw the laptop, and became angry. "What's the big deal?" I asked him. "Our daughter didn't see it. If it shouldn’t be a big deal to me, you should be comfortable with having all of us in the same room. You're okay having this in our house sometimes, right?" He admitted that it was a big deal and that he didn't like having it in our house at any time.

I wish I could say it was all uphill from there, but it took two to three years to bring into the light all of the sexual lies my husband believed about himself, about me, and about the world around us. It took that long because getting to the truth was like emptying an old, dark, musty closet that my husband only ever opened to shove more lies into; nothing ever came out of that closet. The stuff at the very back was even a shock to him.

After everything was out in the open and we began working towards reconciliation, I unsurprisingly developed a form of emotional PTSD, where bad thoughts of the past would attack my mind and heart as if it were happening again. The bad dreams were the worst.

At that time, we couldn’t find helpful Catholic books on the topic of reconciling with each other. We did, however, find a helpful book by psychologist Gary Gottman entitled What Makes Love Last? Back then, Dr. Gottman seemed to be the only one who took all forms of betrayal seriously and outlined practical steps on how to help a couple through them. One of his best (and hardest) tips was his encouragement to talk about the past for as long as the hurt partner needed to discuss it.

One of [Dr. Gary Gottman's] best (and hardest) tips was his encouragement to talk about the past for as long as the hurt partner needed to discuss it.

I didn't want to do this. I hated that I would have flashbacks or get flooded with tears and anger. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I wanted it to be behind us. Wasn't talking about it again brooding over injury, as 1 Corinthians 13 says not to do? I fought this advice at first. The frustrating thing was that when I tried to be strong enough not to share, it would snowball into other bad things: wanting to drink too much to dull the thoughts, becoming even more angry at my husband for putting me in this situation to begin with (that was actual brooding), or getting unjustifiably angry with the kids over little things because I was trying to love them from an empty heart. I knew that my husband was no longer doing those things that hurt me so deeply. I knew he had grounded himself in Truth and had taken practical, prudent steps to avoid compromising situations. I didn't see or notice any suspicious actions that suggested otherwise. Why did I need to keep reliving the past?

The reality was that I wasn't harping on the past, I was sharing myself in a vulnerable present. In telling my husband about these attacks from thoughts or dreams, I was giving him the opportunity to love me how I needed to be loved in that moment. This is when I started to really believe that my husband loved me: when he was willing to hear about a past that involved him in a negative way over and over and over again, all for the sake of my healing. He answered my paranoid questions and held me when I cried (again). Gradually, the attacks became less frequent and less powerful.

This is when I started to really believe that my husband loved me: when he was willing to hear about a past that involved him in a negative way. . ., all for the sake of my healing.

Nine years later, I can't believe where we are today. My husband amazed me at his growing perseverance to pursue the long process of healing and to build a strong foundation for our marriage that honestly had never been there before. He healed and I healed. This doesn't mean that life is perfect for us. We still have all of the challenges of marriage, children, and life stuff to figure out; but now I feel like I have a real partner in that. Today, I know that my husband strives to be like St. Joseph.

If I could speak to the author of the article I mentioned, I would tell her to take heart. Do not give up. If you keep fighting the despair, if you keep fighting the terrifying feeling that all men are a little bit awful, if you keep grounding yourself, you will go through what feels like a death, but there will also be a resurrection. You will come out on the other side as what my husband likes to call an "established woman." Someone who knows the darkness, but who also knows that the light is stronger.

To the author: I will be praying for you, whoever you are, and asking St. Joseph to pray for your husband every day.

This author would like to remain anonymous.

In December 2016, I graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Community Health Education. While I learned much about general public health during college, one of my main research focuses was maternal and child health. This surprisingly under-researched and rarely discussed topic fascinated me. Up until very recently, it was almost a taboo subject. Due to this, my senior capstone project centered on researching postpartum depression and mental illness, and then creating a program to prevent them.

Looking back on this project, I realize how much the research shaped my view of abortion and the pro-life movement. I learned more about exactly what happens to a woman when she becomes pregnant, and how mental health and emotions play a significant role in making decisions early on in pregnancy. This research led me to reflect on how the pro-life movement is lacking in some areas, and how we need to do better.

Abortion is often sought out when a woman feels like it is her only option. By doing more to support women, we can begin to correct the impression that there is only one way out. Here are three ways we can start:

1. Remove the expectation that women should always be thrilled to be pregnant.

While some people are elated to learn that they are pregnant (whether or not they planned on having a child), not everyone feels that same excitement. This can be for a wide variety of reasons, but women and men need to know that it is okay to not feel great about the news. The expectation that women should always be thrilled can cause shame for those who aren’t. It’s important for women to have the freedom to discuss how they really feel and why. These conversations help women and men feel more supported by their loved ones, which in turn helps to remove shame.

2. End the stigma around mental health issues.

Fortunately, most people know nowadays that postpartum depression is an issue. However, many still do not know that mental health disorders often arise during pregnancy. A recent study in the British Journal of Psychiatry shows that one in four pregnant women struggles with a mental health disorder. Depression and anxiety are the most common and can begin early on during pregnancy. Peripartum depression affects 10% to 15% of pregnant women and is considered a serious public health issue. These disorders are also more common in certain situations, such as poverty or cases of abuse.

[M]any still do not know that mental health disorders often arise during pregnancy.

Mental health disorders can have serious consequences for both mother and baby. Peripartum and postpartum depression can result in a lack of proper prenatal care, trouble breastfeeding, problems with mother-infant bonding, and improper infant care. We are just beginning to end the stigma surrounding mental health for the majority of the population, and now we need to end it for pregnant women, too. There are safe treatments for peripartum and postpartum mental health issues, and women need to know that it’s okay to ask for help.

As pro-life activists, we can do a better job discussing the real and difficult issues that can lead women to feel like abortion is their only way out. We can also direct women towards resources, such as a section of womenshealth.gov dedicated to reproductive health and mental health and NaProTECHNOLOGY’s research on postpartum depression.

3. Remember that hormones play a significant role in early pregnancy.

If you are someone with a monthly cycle, you know how irrational hormones can make you feel. I’ve cried before because we were out of peanut butter and I really wanted some for my apple. It’s not normally something I would be that upset about (though I do love peanut butter), but having my hormones out of whack made it seem like the end of the world.

I think we often forget that there is a huge influx of hormones during the first trimester of pregnancy, and this can intensify emotions tenfold. If a woman is already facing a stressful situation for whatever reason, hormones can make it seem like things will never get better. I don’t believe that anyone truly wants to have an abortion; rather, I believe that abortion is chosen when a woman believe she has no other option. When a woman has a solid support system to remind her that things will be okay and to show her that she’s not alone, it’s easier for her to realize that there she has other options. For a woman who doesn’t have people supporting her in a stressful situation, it’s difficult to see past the hormones and emotions to find another option. Rather than just repeating the mantas, “Abortion is murder,” and “Adoption is an option,” we should talk to women in crisis, see where they’re coming from, and support them with non-judgmental love. Sometimes, all it takes to help is a listening ear.

If a woman is already facing a stressful situation for whatever reason, hormones can make it seem like things will never get better.

There are other ways that we can improve as pro-life activists and people, but this is a start. However you choose to help, I encourage you to do something, even a small thing. Everyone needs a support system and God gives us the privilege to be that for others.

One in eight couples struggles with infertility.

But, when was the last time you heard that discussed in church?

When it comes to the “don’ts” for couples facing infertility, the Church has much to say. Don’t use IVF. Don’t use IUI. Don’t use egg donors. Don’t use surrogates. Don’t go against the natural order of things by trying to play God.

Discussions about the ethics of assisted reproductive technologies are lengthy and prevalent among Catholics. If an infertile couple seeks guidance on which medical options are approved by the Church and which are not, it’s easy to access this information. However, finding spiritual and emotional support for the burden that comes with infertility is not nearly as easy.

In fact, in many parishes and dioceses, this support simply does not exist; that is unacceptable. Our brothers and sisters in Christ are suffering and, instead of walking with them, we hand them a list of what not to do and send them on their way. As a Church, we need to do better.

Here are concrete ways you can minister to couples struggling with infertility. This list isn’t enough, but it’s a start.

Do. . .

Check in and ask how your friends are doing.

Give your friends the opportunity to talk about how they are feeling and what they struggle with. Create a space where they can open up. You don’t have to have the answers. You just need to listen with empathy.

Acknowledge difficult holidays.

Certain holidays can be hard for couples facing infertility, especially Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Reach out to your friend on these days and let them know that you are thinking of them. Acknowledge the ways that they have brought joy into your life.

Offer tangible and specific help.

Carrying the cross of infertility can be exhausting. Some times, it even means surgery to correct underlying problems that might cause infertility. Offer to bring a meal if your friend needs surgery. Better yet, start a meal train. If your friend has a particularly rough day, lighten their load however you can, even if it’s just doing a load of laundry or sending a care package. It can be as easy as sending your friend a funny meme to distract her while she nervously waits to be seen at the doctor’s office.

Be sensitive regarding pregnancy announcements.

Pregnancy announcements and baby showers can be particularly hard for someone struggling with infertility. Consider telling your friend about your pregnancy privately before announcing it on Facebook or in a group setting. This gives her time to privately process her thoughts and emotions. Acknowledge that the news might be painful for her to hear, and that you know it’s not a reflection of how she feels about you. Don’t be offended if your friend feels she can’t come to your baby shower; respect her limits at different points in her journey.

Pray for all couples longing to welcome a child.

One of the best things that you can do is pray for your friends. Remember them in your daily intentions. Pray for peace and healing. Offer up your suffering for the suffering that they endure. Ask St. Gerard to intercede for them. Let your friends know that you are praying.

♦♦♦

Don’t. . .

Offer unsolicited medical advice.

Well-intentioned people might instantly offer solutions upon hearing that a couple struggles with infertility: “Have you tried NaProTECHNOLOGY? Have you considered acupuncture? Have you tried Whole30®?” While you may be trying to help, this kind of response is usually unhelpful to the couple receiving the advice. Yes, they probably tried many or all of those things. Unless they specifically ask for medical advice, please refrain from giving it.

Ask, “Why don’t you just adopt?”

Adoption is a beautiful calling. It also requires discernment and not every couple that struggles with infertility is called to adopt. Adoption is not a “cure” for infertility. A couple I know that has infertility did feel called to adopt and now has three children through adoption. Still, the woman told me, “Adoption cured the childlessness, it didn’t cure the infertility.” Furthermore, adoption is a lengthy, often expensive, and difficult process. It’s not as simple as it's often portrayed to be.

Say, “Just relax and it will happen.”

Nothing is less relaxing than being told to relax.

Make assumptions.

One of the most hurtful things that can happen to a couple facing infertility is that people make assumptions about them. Namely, that if they do not have children, it must be because they use contraception. Due to this, some couples feel like they have to disclose their struggles with infertility, something that is deeply painful and intimate. This is not because they necessarily want to share, but because they are tired of people making assumptions about them. It is wrong to make assumptions. Commenting on any couple’s family size is not what we are called to do as a Church.

♦♦♦

The institutional Church has a long way to go in pastoral ministry to couples with infertility. However, we, as members of the body of Christ, can take those steps through our words and action. Perhaps the institutional Church will follow.‍

Christian spirituality proposes a growth marked by moderation and the capacity to be happy with little. It is a return to that simplicity which allows us to stop and appreciate the small things, to be grateful for the opportunities which life affords us, to be spiritually detached from what we possess, and not to succumb to sadness for what we lack. This implies avoiding the dynamic of dominion and the mere accumulation of pleasures. (Laudato Sí 222)

I have never been what most would consider a “tidy” person. When the time came for household chores, there was always something more important to do. My approach to home organization was similar: save as much time as possible by throwing things wherever they could go, and then move on with life. I did, however, purchase Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up four years ago. Honestly, I think I bought it just to reach a cart minimum on Prime Now and get a fee taken off, and because I heard buzz about it. Not exactly the best reasons.

In her work, Kondo advocates for a thorough and intense tidying process called the KonMari method. Through it, you clean your home by category as you dump everything into a pile, hold each item one at a time, and decide whether or not it "sparks joy." Things that do not spark joy get a thank you for the role they played in your life, and then are sent off with a joyous celebration.

At first, I skimmed through half of the book and put it on my shelf for good after reading her description of the peace her clients feel after tidying:

"When you've finished putting your house in order, your life with change dramatically. Once you have experienced what it's like to have a truly ordered house, you'll feel your whole world brighten. Never again will you revert to clutter" (Kondo 7).

I remained unconvinced. After all, I frequently gave away stuff I didn't need (granted, after six months of toting it around in my car) and I couldn't believe that dumping all of your clothes into a pile was necessary or would make a real impact on inner peace. Also, I was lazy and felt that I didn't have enough time or energy to waste.

However, I changed my mind when I (like many others) binge-watched Tidying Up on Netflix. Actually seeing the difference on clients' faces convinced me that there must be something to this “tidying up.” Six months before watching Tidying Up, I downsized from a two-bedroom to a studio apartment and gave away over fifteen boxes of things I didn't need. How much more unnecessary stuff could I even have?

It turned out that, although I purged myself of a lot, I did not undergo the emotional confrontation required by the KonMari method. When I at last embraced KonMari, it turned out to be a profound, spiritual experience - one that resonated with the spirituality of Pope Francis as expressed in Laudato Sí.

Here are five ways that “tidying up” surprised me and improved my relationship with God:

1. It helped me live in the present moment.

"When we really delve into the reasons for why we can't let something go, there are only two: an attachment to the past or a fear for the future" (Kondo 181).

Marie Kondo doesn't ask you to throw away mementos if they still bring you joy. However, I never considered how much I held onto because I hadn't fully come to terms with relationships that ended, or good times that I would never relive. While my conscious mind thought I held onto a cute bird decoration that I guy I liked gave me just because it was cute, subconsciously it was really because part of me didn't want to acknowledge that we would never again be as close as we once were. I had to acknowledge that the relationship ending wasn't a failure, but rather that the relationship ran its natural course. Processing my things and letting them go helped me to process unresolved issues from the past that held me back.

I never considered how much I held onto because I hadn't fully come to terms with relationships that ended, or good times that I would never relive.

Similarly, I found myself confronting anxiety when I would think about the things I kept because of remote possibilities of something happening in the future. This got in the way of my ability to trust God, as I instead believed somehow that things, not God, would save me in the future.

Marie Kondo points out that when we find ourselves either stuck in the past or fearful of the future, it makes it hard to figure out what we are looking for in the present. I would go one step further and say that it makes it harder to hear what God is saying to us in the present. As Pope Francis articulates in Laudato Sí,

"A constant flood of new consumer goods can baffle the heart and prevent us from cherishing each thing and each moment. To be serenely present to each reality, however small it may be, opens us to much greater horizons of understanding and personal fulfilment" (222).

Eliminating things that kept me in the past or made me fixate on the future helped me reflect on the kind of life God wants for me now, and it gave me the momentum to accomplish things that would lead to that life, with full trust that He will take care of me. The result was liberating. As Kondo tells us, "Life becomes far easier once you know that things will still work out even if you are lacking something" (187).

2. It helped me reorder my relationship to things and to God.

"People have trouble discarding what they could still use (functional value), that contain helpful information (informational value), and that have sentimental ties (emotional value). When these things are hard to obtain or replace (rarity), they become even harder to part with" (Kondo 45).

While Marie Kondo is often accused of being a minimalist, her method is more about keeping only the things that you treasure and that serve a clear purpose in your life. When I honestly asked myself why I was holding onto things and what purpose they served, I realized that I often relied on material objects more than on God for emotional fulfillment. For instance, I didn't need to hold onto a pillow handmade by my best friend in high school in order to remember the friendship that came from it. Similarly, it wasn't necessary to hold onto notes from a seminar that I knew I would never read again because they made me seem more intellectual. I also didn’t need a French press that I never used because it made me feel sophisticated.

When I honestly asked myself why I was holding onto things . . . I realized that I often relied on material objects more than on God for emotional fulfillment.

Ultimately, my happiness, identity, trust for the future, feelings of adequacy, and knowledge that I am loved must be rooted in God, not things or other people. It brought to mind a quote from Laudato Sí: “The emptier a person’s heart is, the more he or she needs things to buy, own and consume” (204).

3. It helped me cultivate gratitude.

"One of the homework assignments I give my clients is to appreciate their belongings. For example, I urge them to try saying, ‘Thank you for keeping me warm all day,’ when they hang up their clothes after returning home" (Kondo 168).

One aspect of the KonMari method that often strikes Americans as strange is the insistence on talking to your inanimate objects and thanking them for their service. However, it isn't a far leap from this to turning our focus to God as the Creator and Giver of all things, and thanking Him for the opportunities that allowed these things to come into our lives. This made me realize how infrequently I thank God for my relationships and successes, let alone for keeping me alive and giving me shelter and food. Each object we own provides a reason to be grateful, whether it’s for the people who made it, the materials it's made of, the money that allowed me to buy it, or the relationship with the person who gave it. This emphasis on gratitude evokes Pope Francis' exhortation to return to the custom of blessing meals:

"That moment of blessing, however brief, reminds us of our dependence on God for life; it strengthens our feeling of gratitude for the gifts of creation; it acknowledges those who by their labours provide us with these goods; and it reaffirms our solidarity with those in greatest need" (Laudato Sí 227).

There is much to be grateful for, include the fact that I am blessed with more than I need and that my belongings can go on to be a blessing to someone else.

4. It made me more sensitive to the workings of the Holy Spirit.

At first, the idea of holding a spatula and asking, "Does this spark joy?" seemed ridiculous. However, as I worked through my possessions and focused on what I wanted to keep, rather than what I could get rid of, I realized that I had become numb to the feeling of joy in my daily life. Dealing with traffic, errands, to-do lists, and the other necessary trappings of modern urban life had deadened me, and I started to ask myself when the last time was that I really tried to cultivate joy. I knew the fruits of the Holy Spirit, but up until now, I kind of assumed the Holy Spirit would just do His thing within me and that I could pray for those fruits if I really wanted to. But, I hadn't thought about how I could change my lifestyle in order to let those fruits flourish.

[A]s I worked through my possessions and focused on what I wanted to keep, rather than what I could get rid of, I realized that I had become numb to the feeling of joy in my daily life.

After going through my clothes, for example, I realized that I held onto articles of clothing that weren't comfortable or didn't fit well, that weren't really my style, or that would only be worn on purely theoretical occasions. When I looked at them, my first thought was, "ugh." After clearing out the "ugh" category, I instantly felt freer, less annoyed, and more joyful. I was also surprised by the enormous amount of mental peace that resulted from organized drawers and knowing exactly where everything is. The "ugh" of unwanted things and the chaos of clutter drowned out so many positive emotions because they caused the opposite of the fruits of the Spirit: anxiety, frustration, annoyance, impatience, and even sadness.

I realized that something similar happened in my life, more generally. Having a space where I felt joy no matter where my eyes landed helped me realize how much I dwell on the negatives of life, rather than work to create more positives. While I can't eliminate all of the "ugh" in life, I can choose to not focus on it so much and instead concentrate on doing the things that leave room for the Holy Spirit to work.

5. It made me more conscientious about future consumption.

When I first moved to Los Angeles, everything that I owned fit into my Kia Rio. Today, seven years and multiple purges later, I still somehow filled four car-fuls of stuff to give away. This sobering confrontation with my consumption, and the resulting eventual effects on landfills, shocked me into a deep consideration of what and how I will purchase things in the future. Being surrounded only by things I love inspires me to only purchase things that spark the same joy, which are more likely to be skillfully made by someone receiving a just wage and using high-quality materials. While I still think about buying cheap things, I now take more time to consider whether I really want or need them, and whether they are worth buying in the long term.

The “tidying up” process took me from a skeptic to a believer. Having lived in a tidy space for a few weeks, I can say without fear of overstatement that I have been profoundly changed for the better. I look forward to the peace and joy of returning home each day, and find that I do have extra time and energy for the things I once thought were tedious and superfluous. Now, I make my bed, tackle procrastination, and make more of an effort to take care of myself. Most of all, I enjoy a greater dialogue with God about who He created me to be and His will for my life, and an inner peace that enhances my ability to listen. Though painful at times, I can say that the process of tidying up was unquestionably worth it.

The phrase “women’s empowerment” features in nearly every conversation about feminism. As a fairly general, catch-all term, it is arguably more nebulous and easily appropriated than “feminism.” Regardless, there is great value in discussing women’s empowerment and what it practically looks like. Sometimes in Christian circles, however, it is unfortunately necessary to explain (and even defend) why we advocate for “empowerment” and what that means.

I say “unfortunately” because, on the one hand, there are branches of feminism that adhere to a Marxist philosophy, which focuses predominantly (if not exclusively) on taking power. According to this view, power is idolized as a good in itself rather than viewed as a responsibility to be exercised for the good of others. On the other hand, some people in the Church use false interpretations of Scripture and Tradition to argue that women should not have power.

Fortunately, we can address both extremes by diving into what Catholic feminists mean by “women’s empowerment.”

To begin, we often use the word “power” to refer to several similar concepts, when in fact there are subtle (and crucial) nuances to each. Sometimes, we refer to moral agency and the freedom to make decisions in our own lives, which are unquestionable goods. A person’s agency can be limited in appropriate ways (e.g. when parents require their children to obey rules) or in sinful ways (e.g. when an abusive spouse manipulates and gaslights his/her partner). Other times, we use “power” to mean dominion or control over others. The ability to force others to do our will can be used to protect the weak, but it can also be used for great evil.

As a last example, we also discuss power as religious or political authority. At best, authority is usually taken to mean a “right to power” over others, which will (hopefully) be used for the good of those under it. This definition certainly implies some level of power, but should never be confused with power for power’s sake. Raw power, unanchored from charity and divorced from wisdom, is not life-giving, but deadly. By contrast, true authority respects the dignity of every person and supports human flourishing at the individual and societal levels. The Catechism says as much:

“Authority is exercised legitimately only when it seeks the common good of the group concerned and if it employs morally licit means to attain it. If rulers were to enact unjust laws or take measures contrary to the moral order, such arrangements would not be binding in conscience. In such a case, ‘authority breaks down completely and results in shameful abuse.’” (CCC 1903)

It can be tempting to idolize power, consider it as an end in itself, or view it as incompatible with Christianity. However, power is neither inherently bad or good, nor is it associated with a person’s intrinsic dignity or value. Similar to wealth, power is a gift given in varying degrees to every human being - and like wealth, power is not necessarily a gift that everyone must have in equal measure in order to have a just society.

[P]ower is a gift given in varying degrees to every human being

That said, it is the responsibility of those with power to use it to further the good of those without power: “Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more” (Luke 12:48).

Catholic social teaching reiterates this through promoting the preferential option for the poor and vulnerable. Catholics (and, indeed, all people) have a sacred responsibility to care especially for the vulnerable among us - and we all fall into this category at some point or other. To be human is to be vulnerable, whether we are in the hospital recovering from surgery, facing a layoff at work, or lost and confused in a new country. These are situations in which individuals are called to use what power they have for the good of others on an individual level.

Feminism recognizes that, in addition to individual abuses of power, societies also keep oppressive systems of power in place. Broken systems of power are more difficult to change than individual circumstances, and therefore systemic abuses of power are much harder to address. Those with power have a particular responsibility to people who live under these abuses, or who are chronically “vulnerable”: people of color, immigrants, women, the physically and mentally disabled, children, the marginalized, etc. We must remember that vulnerability takes various forms and does not mean a lack of dignity in any person or group of people. Furthermore, vulnerability often has no relation to one’s abilities and qualities such as intelligence, maturity, physical strength, and virtue.

Feminism recognizes that, in addition to individual abuses of power, societies also keep oppressive systems of power in place.

This is where empowerment comes in. The preferential option for the poor and vulnerable requires that Catholics use what power we have to serve others. At the same time, it will never be enough to make life easier for the poor and marginalized by means of a self-righteous sense of noblesse oblige (however well-intentioned) - if only because those most qualified to assess and address a community’s needs and struggles are members of that same community. Additionally, this point touches on subsidiarity, another aspect of Catholic social teaching (Quadragesimo Anno 79). It is a matter of social justice to empower people in vulnerable circumstances.

I have heard some Catholics argue that weakness is where God’s glory is especially made manifest, and therefore weakness or lack of power constitute a blessing and not a matter of injustice. It is true that acknowledging our own weakness and lack of control can be a great act of humility and is a necessary part of the path to sainthood. It is also true that having any kind of power can give us an illusion of control over our own lives, which we should be wary of. However, none of this means that power is inherently wrong, or that systemic oppression is justified - and it certainly does not mean that we must (or should) choose to allow someone to obtain or keep power if they abuse it.

[I]t will never be enough to make life easier for the poor and marginalized by means of a self-righteous sense of noblesse oblige (however well-intentioned)

I have also heard some state that authentic femininity is not about power. In fact, they say, women should be less focused on power because Mary, the holiest woman and the Mother of God, was not focused on obtaining power. Proponents of this belief cite Mary’s silent suffering, her humility and submission to God’s will, and her near-silence throughout all four Gospels. Of course, it is true that Mary is the greatest of the saints; she was completely receptive to God’s grace and perfectly virtuous. I also agree that we should look to Mary as an example of weakness and humility, remembering that she is an example for all Christians, men and women.

Too often, women are told to be quiet, humble, and submissive, just like Mary. We are told to embrace our weakness, like Mary, because that is the only path to authentic feminine holiness. Too often we forget that Jesus Christ was quiet (Isaiah 53:7, Matthew 27:14), humble (Matthew 11:29), and submissive (Luke 22:42, Philippians 2:6). Christ is our first and perfect example of weakness offered up to God. We should all be like Mary, because Mary is like Jesus.

One of the funny paradoxes of Christianity is that we are called to put both our weakness and our power at the service of charity. It is always an act of Christlike love to accept our weakness. It is always an act of Christlike love to use the power God gives us (however great or seemingly inconsequential) to protect, serve, and love others.

So, yes, I agree that authentic femininity is not fundamentally about power. Neither is authentic masculinity, for that matter. Perhaps a better way to say it would be that authentic (read: holy) femininity is characterized by power to the same extent that authentic masculinity is: that is, only to the degree that our power and strength are put to the loving service of God and neighbor. And part of loving people (especially our poor and vulnerable neighbors) is empowering them to correct injustice and oppression.

I’m going to the FemCatholic Conference to learn more about the needs of my fellow Catholics. As a Catholic man, there is a lot to be confused about when it comes to feminism! Do Catholic feminists want women priests? Are my preconceived notions about feminists accurate, or am I stereotyping? How does my experience as a man, in a Church led by men, shape how I view and treat women? Am I even “allowed” to have an opinion on feminism?

I never thought that I received special treatment as a man, and I still don’t. It can be easy for men like me to think, “What patriarchy? No one ever said I was in charge just because I’m a man!”

As a man, I get normal treatment. The trouble is, men and women have different needs, and in a world where men are in charge, men’s needs are attended to much more often. Not only that, but men’s needs have set the norms and expectations in many arenas. For example, I was looking for pants for my little girl and picked out a pair that looked comfortable. Then I stuck my hand in the “pockets.” Guys, the pants I had for my 3-year-old had fake, vanity pockets. My wife gets so excited when she finds clothes with usable pockets. Men don’t have this problem; all of our clothing - pants, shirts, jackets - has functional pockets. It seems like something small, but it doesn’t end with pocket sizes. For example, take a look at your workplace’s stance on maternity leave or breastfeeding.

[M]en and women have different needs, and in a world where men are in charge, men’s needs are attended to much more often.

Are there policies in place regarding these important needs, and does it seem like they were designed by individuals who fully understand the needs? Is this an area of company policy that all employees (male, female, married, single) are made aware of? Take a look at the decision makers of your company; how many of them are women? It’s not that men receive special treatment, it’s that men have been in charge for a long time and have made things generally comfortable for men. Now, it’s time for us to start listening to how we can expand the standard of "normal" to include the needs, norms, and expectations of women, instead of saying, “Can’t you just be more like us?”

As the poet John Donne famously wrote, no man is an island. These issues that hurt women are not just women’s problems, they are humanity’s problems. Like most problems, we can’t just leave solutions to someone else; unless we strive to be part of the solution, we perpetuate the problem. John Donne also says, “Send not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.” The bell has been ringing for women’s rights for decades, and continues to ring; it is time we men join with our sisters in answering the call.

These issues that hurt women are not just women’s problems, they are humanity’s problems.

What can we do as men to serve women in this cause? First, listen to the experiences that women have to share. Everyone experiences the world around them differently, but we will never know just how differently until we talk with them! By hearing firsthand experiences, we can begin to understand that some of the things that we take for granted are not as simple as they seem. Discussing these issues is critical to our understanding. As men, we lack a certain obvious experience of femininity and, while we’ll never fully understand in this life, clarifying and asking questions are great places to start. Good questions are driven by genuine curiosity and contribute to the movement of the discussion. Try some of these:

• I’m confused about this point, can you talk more about that?
• I hear you saying [this], that sounds [emotion].
• Have you read John Paul II’s Letter to Women? I’m interested to hear your thoughts.
• You seem [emotion]. Would you like to talk about something?

Once we understand some of the different ways women experience the world, how do we advocate for them? Being an advocate does not mean that we have to fix everything; in fact, it will more often mean being aware of the needs and struggles of the women in your life, and being willing to support their ideas for meeting those needs. Being an advocate could mean speaking up for your co-worker who is challenged when she needs to take breaks to pump breast milk. It could mean making an effort to be more attentive to the women on your parish council. It could mean working to better empathize with and support your wife, sister, or daughter in their struggles (whether it be fake pockets or discrimination).

I am really looking forward to this conference. I am confident it will give my wife and I a lot more to talk about! I can’t wait to hear what the speakers and participants have to say about Catholic femininity, and to witness how we can all flourish through rejoicing in our complementary differences and diverse gifts, instead of trying to make everyone the same.

“He proposed another parable to them. ‘The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man who sowed good seed in his field. While everyone was asleep his enemy came and sowed weeds all through the wheat, and then went off.” (Mt 13:24-25)

The hardest part of realizing that my spiritual director took advantage of me sexually was the fact that he also gave me actual help.

I had known Fr. Nick for a couple of years as my University's chaplain when I began seeing him for spiritual direction. At the time, I was recently engaged and experiencing severe anxiety about my vocation. I kept thinking that I should discern a call to religious life, to the extent that I told my fiancé that I thought we should postpone the wedding. I went to Fr. Nick for help and he patiently listened to my concerns. Thanks to his guidance and realization that my thought processes were a symptom of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), and not actually a call from God, I went forward with my engagement. I saw him weekly for Confession and spiritual direction.

He took the time to listen. For someone who struggles with OCD, it is a blessing to find someone patient enough to listen to the same worries over and over again. Previous experience showed me that listening to my repetitive, never-ending struggles could be a burden, even to those closest to me. I was so grateful to have found someone who not only listened patiently, but also went so far as to research how best to help me.

Once or twice, I confessed struggling with sexual thoughts. Fr. Nick wanted details: what exactly had I imagined? There wasn’t much to describe. I was sexually inexperienced and naive, but being asked to go into explicit detail made me deeply uncomfortable. I never thought that his motives for asking might be questionable; after all, aren’t spiritual growth and being held accountable supposed to be uncomfortable?

I never thought that his motives for asking might be questionable; after all, aren’t spiritual growth and being held accountable supposed to be uncomfortable?

Other things also bothered me. I was a part of a group of women at my college who were trying to form a Catholic sorority on campus, modeled after the household system at Franciscan University of Steubenville. Our sorority leader invited Fr. Nick over to bless her new apartment before one of our sleepovers. He blessed the apartment, and then he didn't leave. He stood in that tiny living room, surrounded by young women sprawled out on couches, on the floor, and in chairs wearing little more than pajamas, as if there were only women in the room. The conversation was less than holy. I was so embarrassed and I couldn’t figure out why he just kept standing there, watching.

A couple of weeks before my college graduation, I went to Confession. Afterwards, Fr. Nick wanted a hug. It seemed a little strange, but I was about to graduate and went to him for Confession for years. I let him hug me, and then I started to pull away. He didn’t let me go. He held on tighter and sighed - and I thought I felt something rise up against my leg.  

Although it made me uncomfortable (and very glad that I was graduating soon), I tried to excuse it. He helped me so much, and maybe he became attached to me. It was weird, but maybe not totally unexpected. Surely, I imagined feeling him against my leg. I had an overactive mind, that was the entire reason I went to him for help. Surely, that situation wasn't what I thought it was.

I didn’t realize what really happened until nearly four years later, when some of my classmates brought forward a lawsuit against the University for failing to remove him. They also saw him regularly for spiritual direction. He asked them for explicit details about their intimate lives, then gave long, unsolicited hugs and pressed an erection up against them. These women recognized this as problematic sexual behavior and filed a complaint with the University, who did nothing. A local newspaper covered the lawsuit. When I read descriptions of the behavior these other women spoke about, I realized that I recognized it.

Suddenly, my image of him - as a mentor and trustworthy priest who I thanked God for bringing into my life - was shattered. I acquired a different perspective on those years, one that tainted my entire relationship with him and made me want to bathe in bleach.

Suddenly, my image of him - as a mentor and trustworthy priest . . . - was shattered.

Fr. Nick did evil things. Committing sacrilege by taking advantage of the trust and vulnerability afforded in the confessional in order to make a sexual advance on someone is evil. There is no other word for it.

At the same time, I gradually came to understand that the fact that he committed evil does not completely destroy the good that God worked through him.

Don’t misunderstand me: I believe that this man should be removed from ministry. His actions are inexcusable and I hope and pray that he receives the psychological help he needs. I grieve the relationship I thought I had with him. In some ways, I think I have only just begun to understand how deep this particular wound goes. When I think of the other women he harmed, it’s devastating. I reached out to one of the women bringing forth the lawsuit and she has since left the Church, partially because of his behavior and the failure of those in power to do anything about it.

Without negating any of the above, the good that God brings about with a broken instrument remains His good, even when the instrument turns out to be deeply, deeply flawed. I made major life decisions in part because of this man’s guidance; decisions that led me to where I am today and, I believe, to where I’m supposed to be. His advice helped bring me to where I am now: happily married to a good man, with two beautiful children. I’m in a place where I can grow in holiness and where I have the responsibility and privilege of helping others become holy, as well.

[T]he good that God brings about with a broken instrument remains His good, even when the instrument turns out to be deeply, deeply flawed.

God writes straight with crooked lines. The power and goodness of God are far beyond our understanding. He took a man who committed evil, even in the holiest of places, and used him to help bring me towards my vocation. This, at least, gives me some comfort. As the sexual abuse scandals have broken and more of these stories come to light, I hope this thought brings at least some hope to others.

The bad does not nullify the good a person does - and the good does not excuse the bad.

I wonder how many cases of clergy abuse go unreported because the abuser also helped the victim. They say that the longest-lasting lie is one that contains an element of truth. I imagine that something similar could be said of clergy who commit abuse: perhaps those who get away with it the longest are those who have a talent for ministry.

At the same time, that talent does not mean that they should be blindly trusted, or that, if accusations are made against them, they should not be investigated fully. Just because a person does great good does not mean that they are incapable of great evil - such are human nature and free will. Spiritual gifts, like other talents and abilities, are gifts from God, unearned by human efforts or merit. There are sometimes weeds mixed in with the wheat.

If accusations are brought up against apparently ‘holy’ people, they must be investigated - even if the person helped hundreds of people.

Even if the person helped you.

How to Report Sexual Abuse Committed by Clergy

Reporting avenues vary by diocese. For an example of reporting options and resources, you can visit these guides from the Diocese of Manchester, NH and the Diocese of Charlotte, NC.

If you are a young Catholic woman, you have likely heard the term “emotional chastity.” As far as I can tell, it seems to be a good thing in itself. I first learned about the concept early on in my college career while attending a women’s Bible study: “Do you know that song ‘Starlight’ by Taylor Swift? Emotional chastity is refraining from emotionally obsessing over someone you just met. Or creating a nonexistent relationship in your head. Or placing huge relational expectations on someone with whom you barely have a relationship.”

I agree with all of that. We should keep a healthy perspective on our emotions and relationships. What I do not agree with is labeling this nebulous virtue as emotional chastity. Allow me to explain.

First, where did this virtue come from? Within the last century, the Church introduced new and helpful ways to discuss morality in general and sexual morality in particular. (Theology of the Body, anyone?) However, I remain suspicious of the necessity of the term “emotional chastity.”

I recently read an article which relates emotional chastity to Pope St. John Paul II’s Theology of the Body. I found this explanation to be the most convincing argument for using the term; namely, that we are attracted to people both physically and emotionally, and that we can therefore use someone physically and emotionally. That makes sense to me, but I would argue that emotional attraction remains distinct from sexual attraction, and the two do not always go together. Additionally, it is possible to use someone (i.e. objectify them and treat them as a means to an end) without sex being involved. Hoping for a bit more clarity, I consulted the Catechism.

The Catechism states that, “Sexuality affects all aspects of the human person in the unity of his body and soul. It especially concerns affectivity, the capacity to love and to procreate, and in a more general way the aptitude for forming bonds of communion with others” (2332).

I can certainly see how that can be interpreted to include one’s emotions and, indeed, nearly every aspect of a person’s life. However, when we typically speak of chastity, we speak specifically of sexual relationships that glorify God and respect the dignity of the human person (or refraining from sexual relationships for those same reasons). In general, if we say “chastity,” but really mean “a virtue that encompasses all of the ways that we relate to other people,” then we use a definition that, while technically correct, can be misleading, and a definition that is vague enough to mean both everything and nothing.

[W]hen we typically speak of chastity, we speak specifically of sexual relationships that glorify God and respect the dignity of the human person

In an effort to clearly define emotional chastity, let us look at the vice that opposes it. But, what is that vice? I suppose we could talk about emotional unchastity or emotional lust, but “unchastity” is no clearer and “lust” is inherently sexual. More accurately, when we speak of not practicing “emotional chastity,” we mean allowing our emotions to have too great a hold on us. If we read a little further in the Catechism we find that this description fits quite well: “The virtue of chastity comes under the cardinal virtue of temperance, which seeks to permeate the passions and appetites of the senses with reason” (2341). I do believe that “emotional chastity” can rightly be included under the umbrella of temperance; however, I maintain that it should be considered separately from the virtue of chastity.

As I mentioned earlier, emotional chastity is, at best, tangentially related to sexuality. As integrated persons, our emotional and sexual lives naturally impact each other, which creates all the more reason to use accurate terms. Do I struggle with living chastely or do I struggle with how I relate to people emotionally? Both struggles are areas of growth, but I would argue that only the former is necessarily a sin. Sure, we can argue about the sinfulness of idolizing another person or a relationship, or even about emotional fantasies that lead to sexual fantasies. (To clarify, that same article from The Chastity Project does differentiate between sexual fantasies and emotional fantasies, only the latter of which is an offense against emotional chastity.) I would still argue, however, that emotional chastity is used as a vague umbrella term for a host of issues, none of them necessarily sexual.

As integrated persons, our emotional and sexual lives naturally impact each other, which creates all the more reason to use accurate terms.

In fact, the insistence on emotional chastity contributes to a dismissive view of woman’s emotions. Emotions are not bad; in fact, Edith Stein says that woman’s strength lies in her emotional life (when emotions are formed by the intellect and will). Despite the wisdom of women like Edith Stein who understand the positive aspects of woman’s emotions, some people today still dismiss women because of our emotions, calling us irrational or hysteric. The narrative surrounding emotional chastity is directed almost exclusively towards women, which can feed into the stereotype of women being controlled by their emotions.

A brilliant post at Bad Catholic articulates a number of my concerns regarding “emotional chastity.” The author argues that it is a prime example of sexualizing virtues that have nothing to do with sexuality just so that we can present them to women, which amounts to objectifying these same women.

“But by widening the term ‘chastity’ to include things beyond the integration of the sexuality with the entire person, we once again make women into creatures more fundamentally sexual than men. What ‘emotional chastity’ is straining to express is the virtue of prudence . . . and that of temperance, . . .which, of course, includes the near-voluptuous pleasures of emotionalism and romantic effulgence. Christian men tell each other to be ‘honest,’ to be ‘truthful,’ to be ‘prudent’ in how we speak with women and ‘temperate’ in the tears of love we indulge. . . .Men can be admonished for our own emotional irresponsibility without referring to our emotions as something fundamentally sexual. But with the hip, new, synthetic virtue of ‘emotional chastity,’ women are taught to refer to a part of themselves that is not necessarily sexual as something fundamentally sexual.” (emphasis added)

While proponents of “emotional chastity” are advocating for something good (i.e. healthy control over the emotions), their chosen method reveals that we still view women, the primary recipients of “emotional chastity” advice, primarily in light of their sexuality. Not only that, but in this case we reduce women to a false “sexuality” that is chiefly about our emotions. At youth conferences, men get the porn talk and women get the emotional chastity (i.e. “chastity lite”) talk, which brings me to my next point…

Women miss out in a big way when we replace healthy conversations about sexual virtue with emotional guilt-tripping. (And let us remember that we cannot assume that women do not struggle with “physical” chastity, because they do.) Men also miss out if we act as though women are the only ones who need to “guard their hearts” and control their emotions, or if we suggest that men’s sins and struggles are only sexual. Chastity is not a struggle reserved for men and emotions are not a uniquely feminine phenomenon - and neither sex has a monopoly on any specific vice or virtue.  We ought to discuss both, without equating the two. I would love for men and women to have a healthier and holier understanding of their emotions and their sexuality, as well as how both are important aspects (but not the only aspects) of the spiritual life.

Emotional chastity is not bad; in fact, it can be good and even virtuous - but it’s not chastity. The phrase remains a confusing term that is often sexist and spiritually harmful in practice. I am all for whatever it is, but not if we dress it up as the virtue of chastity.

Call it emotional wisdom. Call it emotional temperance or emotional prudence. Call it common sense.

But please, don’t call it chastity.

Warning: some links in this article lead to explicit content. Robots have come a long way since Playskool's 1983 release of Alphie II.

They are now so technologically advanced that people want to have sex with them.

As a socially-traditional Catholic woman who fulfills nearly every stereotype of that identifier, it usually takes me some time and creative thinking to understand the latest sexual fads. Sex robots, unsurprisingly, are no exception.

To start, there is the basic annoyance that female sex robots reflect the most extreme male-defined standards of feminine appearance and behavior designed to most appeal to their purchasers: curvy, but not too curvy, adjustable in height from not-too-short to not-too-tall, blonde-to-brunette, flawless perpetual make-up, and ageless youth. Even more disconcerting is the programmable array of personalities that allow a user to vary the volume (including silence) and tone of his robot to any degree desirable.

[F]emale sex robots reflect the most extreme male-defined standards of feminine appearance and behavior designed to most appeal to their purchasers

You can buy your own base-model sex robot - sometimes called a "sexbot," "sex doll," or "love doll" - if you have an extra $5,000 laying around, or you can share one with any number of strangers by visiting a robot brothel. Several exist around the world and, recently, we almost had our very own "try-before-you-buy sex robot showroom" right here in Houston, Texas.

Houston promotes itself as a business-friendly, intentionally-unzoned city. It shrugs at strip clubs being across the street from elementary schools and sadly boasts record high sex trafficking crime, so developers of the nation's first robot brothel probably assumed they would fit right in.

Remarkably, our somewhat liberal city council definitively shut it down, quoting family value concerns like a conservative political machine. And then, when robot brothel developers pushed back, the city launched a bureaucratic permit attack in the form of rarely-enforced building codes and previously-nonexistent ordinances (e.g. Patrons are banned from having sex at a business with a device resembling a human.).

Mayor Sylvester Turner stated, "[I’m] certainly trying to encourage businesses, but this is not the sort of business I’m seeking to attract."

Council Member Brenda Stardig echoed, “We don’t want to be known worldwide for these things. We don’t want these things happening here.”

“We don’t want to be known worldwide for these things. We don’t want these things happening here.” - Houston City Council Member Brenda Stardig

Why would a city council that unanimously passed the highly-controversial Houston Equal Rights Ordinance ("the bathroom bill") three years earlier also stand unanimously against a robot brothel? Wouldn't the consistent position be that anything goes, and we should let people make their own sexual decisions? Maybe, unless the consistent activist position is fear for potential victims.

On the outset, sex robots are just fancy tools for masturbation. Why regulate that? Of course, self-serving sex, or masturbation, is not permissible by Catholic teaching. At the same time, the United States is not a nation governed by Catholic sexual ethics (nor would the vast majority of our voting bloc - conservatives and liberals alike - want it to be).

Furthermore, my worldview allows for moral gradualism, recognizing that steps toward the good deserve some merit, even if they're not good in and of themselves. Given that, perhaps some might suggest that sex robots could move our culture toward improvement from where we are today.

Would sexually-transmitted infections [STI] decrease with an increased use of sex robots?
Would a pedophile be less likely to hurt a child if they had access to a sex robot?
Would someone with violent sexual tendencies be less likely to hurt others if they acted out with a sex robot instead?
Would fewer girls be trafficked if prostitution became the realm of sex robots?

Since the robots are not unconsenting minors, and since the business nature of capitalism says to let profits be made where profits can be made without government over-regulation, it might seem logical to just legalize robot brothels with a "live and let live" shrug.

If, however, there is a link between sex robots and the victimization of human persons, our decisions must be informed by what will cause the least harm. By "cause the least harm," I don't refer to a vague, icky, subjective moral harm to the sensitivities of polite society, but to definitive harms caused to definitive, vulnerable groups of people.

If, however, there is a link between sex robots and the victimization of human persons, our decisions must be informed by what will cause the least harm.

On the STI front, the creators of sex robots warn that they cannot be completely sanitized. Dr. Travis Stork, featured on The Doctors, explains, "[I]t’s almost virtually impossible, short of taking this doll and dipping it in a vat of disinfectant after every use, that you could properly disinfect these dolls." They are intended solely for use by one person, not to be rented or shared, as would occur with brothel use.

In my sex robot research (surely I have better things to do with my time), I found it ironic that even sex robots are intended for and function safest in a monogamous setting.

I found it ironic that even sex robots are intended for and function safest in a monogamous setting.

Could sex robots cause a dent in Houston's child trafficking crimes? According to some concerned researchers, the opposite would occur. Rather than "treat" pedophilia, child sex robots could normalize it, making the sexualization of children even more common.

In a video depicting a sex robot design studio, a salesperson defends the practice of child-size sex robots, suggesting some men just prefer smaller women. A journalist in the video wipes away tears as he sees the child-size model.

If pedophilia loses its social stigma, an increase of active perpetrators will result. With the price point for sex robots well in the realm of "luxury item," many will choose to abuse children instead.

In the same vein, encouraging men to act out abusive sex against female robots instead of women re-frames this as socially-acceptable behavior, which undoubtedly leads to increased violence against real women. This effect of a simulated experience leading to an increased harmful reality is already observed in the correlation between violent pornography use and violence against women, including several criminal cases of copycat brutality.

[E]ncouraging men to act out abusive sex against female robots instead of women re-frames this as socially-acceptable behavior

Interestingly, the strongest arguments I read against robot brothels came from current sex workers. Regardless of the larger moral implications of prostitution, it is important to understand the differences among women in this largely-underground industry. Sex workers differ from sex trafficking victims in that they are not forced into the trade, they are self-determinate in their clients, and they financially profit from their involvement.

According to Roxanne Price, a sex worker at a legal brothel in Nevada, sex robots remove the emotional connection that naturally occurs with a physical connection like sex: "The idea that women should be like dolls – unresponsive and lethargic during sex – is downright dangerous."

Similarly, Pope St. John Paul II warns in Love and Responsibility that "[t]he sexual relationship presents more opportunities than most other activities for treating a person — sometimes even without realizing it — as an object of use."

It is unusual for a mostly-traditional Catholic woman to find common ground with a sex worker, but on the issue of holistic sex and robots, we agree that sex should be both unitive and pleasurable. We also share apprehension for the consequences of sex outside of these natural parameters.

Proponents of sex robots cite the introduction of artificial birth control as the ethical launchpad of modern-day sex robots. It may seem nonsensical, but as a woman who wholly embraces Catholic sexual ethics, I agree with their assessment: the popularization of artificial birth control is a logical starting point for futuristic sex robots. Whereas defenders of sex robots see this parallel as legitimization for the trade, I see it as representing a progressive impersonalization of our sexual experiences.

[T]he popularization of artificial birth control is a logical starting point for futuristic sex robots [which represent] a progressive impersonalization of our sexual experiences.

St. Pope Paul VI offers similar predictions for the social consequences of dissecting out any of the innate values of unity, procreativity, or pleasure from sex:

"[A man] may forget the reverence due to a woman, and, disregarding her physical and emotional equilibrium, reduce her to being a mere instrument for the satisfaction of his own desires, no longer considering her as his partner." (Humanae Vitae 17)

How fascinating that the same concerns voiced by the Houston City Council, contemporary sex workers, and secular ethicists - that sex robots lead to objectification of and violence against others - comprise the root of Catholic sexual teachings.

The underlying question is whether it is ethical to pursue unaccountable pleasure, pleasure at any expense without regard to harm caused.

"The fixation on pleasure for its own sake, as the exclusive end of the association and cohabitation of man and woman, is necessarily egoistic… This does not at all mean that we must see pleasure itself as evil — pleasure in itself is a specific good — but only points to the moral evil involved in fixing the will on pleasure alone." - St. John Paul II, Love and Responsibility

It is no surprise that Catholics and sex robots are incompatible. Catholics, especially those concerned with social justice and the safety of women and children, need to remain a pivotal part of this conversation.

We can wring our hands about how modern-day America is uninterested in Catholic sex education or clutch our pearls at the yuckiness of the world. More effectively, however, we can ally with other victim advocates outside our Catholic spheres to spread the word on how sex robots unavoidably objectify women, create imbalanced relationship models, and bring an increased likelihood of harm to innocent victims by normalizing sexual abuse.

When French President Emmanuel Macron stated, “Present me the woman who decided, being perfectly educated, to have seven, eight or nine children,” he struck a nerve with many Catholic (and non-Catholic) women. “I’m fine with a lady having seven, eight children if this is her choice, after education,” he clarified, attempting to make his statement better. “This is not the case today.” We know that there was key context to his statement that went ignored or unnoticed; even so, his comments exposed the muddy dialogue in the Western world surrounding women, education, work, and motherhood.

For now, let us set aside Macron’s comments. Instead, I would like to focus on how we tend to discuss career and motherhood as if they are, at best, incompatible and, at worst, in conflict with one another.

Whether they have children or not, most women have heard of the “motherhood penalty,” especially if they work in business. It is a commonly cited phenomenon in which women are, deliberately or unintentionally, penalized at work for having a child. Research finds, for example, that new moms, upon returning to work, are overlooked for promotions or special assignments. Furthermore, mothers are perceived as less competent and less committed to their work than are women without children or men. Stay-at-home mothers are half as likely than others to receive job interviews when they decide to return to the workforce.

[T]he “motherhood penalty” . . . is a commonly cited phenomenon in which women are, deliberately or unintentionally, penalized at work for having a child.

A 2016 Gallup report stated, “Kids are a company’s greatest competition.” The researchers found that employed women with children under the age of 18 were more likely to say they would prefer to not work outside the home than were employed women without children under the age of 18. While the report contains some good advice on how to make work more engaging and appealing to mothers, I argue that calling children “a company’s greatest competition” is a problem in itself. Employers should not feel that they must “compete” with their employees’ children. Rather, they should know that motherhood makes their female employees perform even better in the workplace.

The language we use when discussing women who work (“having it all” or not, “the motherhood penalty,” “the mommy track”) has significant implications for women both with and without children.

Each time a reporter asks a working mother, “How do you do it?” but doesn’t ask a working father the same question, it hurts us.
Each time we share statistics that demonstrate women’s struggles in the workplace, but neglect to share strategies they and their organizations can use to help, it hurts us.
Each time we assume that a woman is unhappy because she sacrifices working or sacrifices being at home, it hurts us.

My intent is not at all to diminish the difficulty of being a working mom. While I am not married, I have friends who work and have children, and I know it is hard. There are sacrifices, but when we frame motherhood and career as an “either/or” scenario, it communicates to mothers that they have fewer options, and it makes single women who love their work apprehensive or downright anxious about marriage and children. And what is the result of that apprehension? Contraception. Abortion. Unfulfilled vocations.

[W]hen we frame motherhood and career as an “either/or” scenario, it communicates to mothers that they have fewer options, and it makes single women who love their work apprehensive or downright anxious about marriage and children.

Until we have a society that supports women in the fullness of our vocations, we will never have a society that is free of contraception and abortion. There will always be that fear: “If I have a baby, I won’t be able to [finish college/get a promotion/become an executive/be a surgeon].”

In his 1995 Letter to Women, Pope St. John Paul II wrote, “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” (emphasis added). Over 20 years later, this call should sound old-fashioned. Rather, we still seek these advancements as 2018 draws to a close.

Outside (and even, I fear, inside) the Church, Catholics have a reputation for being anti-woman, or at least not pro-woman. From the very beginning, however, and exemplified by such leaders as St. John Paul II, the Church has nurtured a deep respect for woman’s soul and vocation. I argue that it is in the business world that we find more anti-woman rhetoric, even in the midst of so-called feminist work. When women feel forced to choose between a career and a child, when working motherhood and stay-at-home motherhood seem like two terrible options, when we tell women they should try to have it all and then tell them it is impossible, we are not pro-woman.

From the very beginning, . . . the Church has nurtured a deep respect for woman’s soul and vocation.

As Catholics, we must lead the charge. Let us redefine what it means to “have it all.” In fact, let us get rid of the phrase all together. We need to fight for equal pay, for paid maternity and paternity leave. We must offer support to our loved ones who return to work after having a child, who work and wish they could have a child, or who are transitioning to staying at home with a child. If we are managers, let us provide the same opportunities to mothers that we do to other employees. If we are educators, we should tell girls they can pursue a career and become a mother, if that is what they are called to do. If we are policymakers, we must pursue just economic policies. If we are mothers, let us embrace our vocation.

Edith Stein told us that “[t]here is no profession which cannot be practised by a woman” and that there exists “a collaboration of Mary with every woman wherever that woman is fulfilling her vocation.” With Edith’s help and through her intercession, let us transform our society into one that supports women in every walk of life, through each stage of life, as we study, work, fall in love, and whether we have no children or ten.

Every year, I start listening to my Christmas Pandora station as soon as the last trick-or-treaters step off my porch. I break out the decorations a few weeks later, and then the tree goes up right after Thanksgiving.

On the one hand, these practices are innocent enough. After all, I don't think I would have made it through exams in graduate school without my peppermint mocha in hand and Bing Crosby crooning “O Holy Night” in the background. The holiday spirit lifts us up, brings us joy, reminds us of our blessings, and can even help us power through challenging times.

On the other hand, we have the beautiful reality of the Church and the liturgical calendar. The Church gives us a sacred separation between Advent (a season of waiting, preparation, and expectation) and Christmas (a season of joy, feasting, and celebration). This separation is essential not only to our own spiritual formation, but also to the life of the Church as a whole.

That said, should we be a bit slower to don our ugly sweaters and hang our lights? Is it okay to enjoy the trappings of the holiday season while still honoring Advent, waiting in hopeful expectation for the Lord's arrival?

Well, yes - and no.

We don't need to anathematize our secular traditions, nor do we have to wait until Christmas day to start enjoying them. These traditions are good things, many of them with deep roots in Church history. But the inclusion of Advent in the life of the Church is intentional, and there is a reason why we do not jump straight from Ordinary Time to Christmas. A season of expectation, hope, and delayed gratification is necessary for our spiritual growth.

We don't need to anathematize our secular traditions, . . .[b]ut the inclusion of Advent in the life of the Church is intentional, and there is a reason why we do not jump straight from Ordinary Time to Christmas.

In the Church, Advent is often referred to as “Little Lent,” a time characterized by increased prayer, devotion, and, in many traditions like the Eastern Rite, fasting. Whereas our secular culture treats Advent as the season of shopping and celebration, it is intended to be a time of  preparation – not for gift-giving or the arrival of out-of-town relatives, but rather for the Lord’s arrival into this world, something we celebrate anew each and every Christmas.

Catholic author Scott Richert notes, “Advent comes from the Latin word advenio, ‘to come to,’ and refers to the coming of Christ. This refers, first of all, to our celebration of Christ’s birth at Christmas; but second, to the coming of Christ in our lives through grace and the Sacrament of Holy Communion; and finally, to His second coming at the end of time.” Richert goes on to explain that “[o]ur preparations…should have all three comings in mind. We need to prepare our souls to receive Christ worthily.”

When we frame Advent in terms of preparation for three separate comings of Christ, it naturally follows that being more measured in how we treat the season can help us grow spiritually and respectfully observe the clear separation between hopeful waiting and joyful feasting.

. . .being more measured in how we treat the season can help us grow spiritually and respectfully observe the clear separation between hopeful waiting and joyful feasting.  

For many of us, this may involve a radical mindset shift, but there are simple steps we can take to live more liturgically and honor the season. Here are three practical ways to cultivate a mindset of expectation and spiritual growth this Advent.

1. Intensify your prayer and devotional time during Advent.

One way to protect yourself from the distractions of secular culture is turning to prayer, spiritual reading, and reflection every day. A host of resources exists both online and offline that can aid our prayer life, such as the Blessed is She daily devotionals and Every Sacred Sunday interactive Mass journal. When you sit down to pray, intentionally create a space that you find peaceful and beautiful. Try lighting a candle or adorning your space with some beautiful Rose Harrington art.

2. Choose one of your favorite secular traditions, and create expectation by delaying them until Christmas day.

Choosing one secular tradition that you love and delaying its enjoyment until Christmas can help you cultivate a mindset of patience and expectation. This may involve opting to delay putting up certain decorations or listening to Christmas music, or saving classic Christmas movies for the 25th. No matter what this looks like for you, this can help you shift the way you live throughout the Advent season, making your routines, rhythms, and traditions mirror the liturgical calendar.

3. Adopt a non-secular tradition to enjoy with your family.

Start to slowly incorporate traditions into your family life that revolve around the Church calendar. One great way to do this is to observe feast days, of which there are many in December: the Feast of the Immaculate Conception (December 8th), the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe (December 12th), and St. Lucy’s feast day (December 13th), for example. Other beloved traditions include setting out a Nativity set, lighting an Advent wreath, or taking on the traditionally Lenten practice of abstaining from meat on Fridays.

We have the power to change the cultural narrative by the way we observe Advent, and these three small steps can help us reclaim the beauty of the season from a society that celebrates excess, noise, and consumerism. By changing our rhythms, even in small ways, we can learn to embrace the joy of expectation as we wait in hope for Christ.

FemCatholic recently asked for responses to an anonymous survey about women’s experiences with abortion. We wanted to listen to women and learn from them how we can better support women facing unexpected or challenging pregnancies.

Some women talked about their own abortions. Some women (and two men!) shared about the abortion of someone very close to them. Below are the questions we asked and several of the responses we received. The comments were edited only for anonymity, length, and clarity (where needed).

May we listen.

What do you think was needed before the abortion? Please be as specific as possible. What resources or support was available? Would any other resources or specific support have changed the choice that was made?

Several themes emerged among the responses to this question:

1. No one told her it was possible to have the baby, or showed confidence in her ability to be a mom.  

“Being told I was strong enough to be a mom… I had no support.  Not a single person around me told me it would be ok to have the baby. No one showed any confidence in me.”

Not a single person around me told me it would be ok to have the baby. No one showed any confidence in me.

“Things in society and culture telling young girls that they COULD raise a baby. Everything pointed/points to choosing abortion because of poverty, being single, being in high school, not being able to give a child a good life, it's too hard, you will be shunned, you won't have help, you'll live off the government forever, no one will want you anymore. It was very widespread that not having a baby at 18 was best for everyone.”

2. She did not know about resources.

“Needed: Practical resources, inspiration, and information. How can I finish my degree and be a parent? Where can I live? Can I continue in dorm housing? Are there other mothers out there with thriving careers who started out with an unplanned pregnancy as a single woman? Mentorship. Real live help, not a website or a call line.

After my abortion, I found out that there was special housing and financial aid at my college for ‘non-traditional’ students that would have been available to me. I also could have completed my degree in a modified way. It makes me sick to think about it. If that information had been readily available, I would have a ten year old today.”

“My sister chose abortion because she could not see how she could get through law school with a baby. She said it was the hardest decision she had ever had to make, and she would not choose abortion again. If only she had had some reasonable way to help her finish law school with her baby! Daycare would have helped. Scholarships for people with crisis pregnancies would have helped. So would friends who actually favored a choice, not this awful ‘choice.’”

Daycare would have helped. Scholarships for people with crisis pregnancies would have helped.

“More education on fetal development. Less lies—they said it was just a blob of tissue and not a human life. An ultrasound that I was allowed to see. Less hate towards someone considering it especially if they don’t know any other options. Less hateful picketing at clinics and now social media.

In my tiny town the only resources available was at the health department with a hateful nurse and junk provided by Planned Parenthood. This is why I now volunteer at crisis pregnancy clinics. I wish I had gotten help for my alcohol problems which I believe strongly contributed to the first abortion.

When you go into the clinic they lie to you about fetal development and then they give you Valium or other conscious sedation while you wait. You are too high to stop it at that point.”

3. Parents were not supportive.

“I had no support. My boyfriend at the time was supporting and paid for the abortion. I believed the lies of the culture that abortion was the most responsible decision for a young woman in college to make. I didn’t want an abortion… I needed family and friends who would forgive my mistakes and accept me for who I was then. I experienced no unconditional love until I met my husband now.”

I needed family and friends who would forgive my mistakes and accept me for who I was then.

“Having parents who would have understood a pregnancy outside of wedlock. The biggest (though not only) reason she got an abortion was that she couldn’t handle telling her parents. I even spoke with their priest because I [the boyfriend] was against the abortion, and when I told him who they were (he didn’t know me), he understood why my girlfriend at the time chose an abortion. He didn’t endorse the choice, but he understood entirely.”

“I did not have any support. I come from a very, very traditional family.  I felt so lonesome, scared. I knew my parents would kick me out of the house, and my partner ran away.  

About changing my choice, if I had someone's support or understanding from my parents, I think I would not have done it.”

4. Chastity/abstinence messaging contributed to feelings of shame, a perceived lack of options, and fear.

“Familial support and a more pastoral response from the Church. My sister felt it was her only option because my mom had always been so vocal about not having sex until marriage and how sinful sex was.  I don’t think any of the chastity talks we attended helped in that regard either since they were mostly fear based tactics. She was terrified of being kicked out of my family, plus she was still in college and felt her abortion was the only way she’d be able to finish school. She didn’t love the baby’s dad and was also afraid my parents would make her marry him. It was so multifaceted but all based in extreme terror. I wish she had known about other pregnancy resource centers besides planned parenthood because they were all too willing to take her in and confirm her fear that her only option was abortion. But more than that, I think we need a cultural shift in how we speak about sex and pregnancy so that women in these positions don’t feel so ostracized and shamed into trying to undo the situation without anyone knowing. The options shouldn’t be to keep it all a secret or feel like a whore. When I asked her about adoption, she said she couldn’t have lived 9 months with that much shame and everyone knowing and thinking poorly of her. We need compassion and understanding to fix this.”

I think we need a cultural shift in how we speak about sex and pregnancy so that women in these positions don’t feel so ostracized and shamed into trying to undo the situation without anyone knowing.

“I’m talking about multiple friends’ abortions here, not just of my generation, but also of my mother’s. We both attended all-girls Catholic schools (both in Brooklyn, NY 30 years apart) so the options were laid out as quietly terminate the pregnancy or be removed from school and essentially ruin your life. There were no available resources at our schools for expectant mothers who did not plan to abort. Nobody spoke about supporting a teenage mother. I don’t know that their choices would have been different, but my mother and I have discussed this extensively and we both definitely felt right along with them at the time that abortion was the only acceptable option offered by our Catholic community.”

5. Circumstances were dire, and she felt she had no other choice.

“I never asked for resources or support because honestly, I don't think anything could have changed my decision given my state of mind at the time. No one could have made me want a relationship with the father, preserved my budding career (walking through a newsroom as a single woman with an unplanned pregnancy), or taken away my shame. At 21 years old, I really and truly was not capable of taking care of myself."

“My best friend fell pregnant when she was 17 following an affair with an older married man who convinced her he was going to leave his wife. I don’t believe that anything would have changed the choice she made, as she was so afraid of the consequences of keeping the baby that far outweighed any other possible choices. She didn’t tell anyone except for me. The man she had been with told her she couldn’t keep the baby and took her to the clinic himself. Maybe having more support at clinics for these circumstances so that young women don’t feel pushed or trapped in a situation. Holding men accountable too and not just making women take actions they later regret or possibly don’t want to take in the first place.”

♦♦♦

How are you or the woman close to you doing now? Have you / she sought any healing? What has helped? What still hurts?

The responses to this question fell into two categories: those that spoke of the lasting pain and trauma, and those that focus on healing.  

1. The impact is lasting.

“It has been 20 years. I did go to confession and we worked through some stuff. It still hurts. Clinic was horrible and made fun of me the whole time because I was crying.”

“I still think about my child every June (when s/he would have been born). I should get help. I just pray for healing.”

“For 20 years I suffered tremendously both physically and psychologically. I have a tilted cervix, several problems during subsequent pregnancies when I married, PCOS. I had panic attacks. I also have struggled with anxiety and depression.

When I made first confession in February of this year before the Easter vigil when I entered the church, I truly felt forgiven and whole. My priest told me to look up Dorothy Day. He was so loving and so merciful when I didn’t deserve it.

The regret will always be there. Always.”

2. Healing and peace are possible.

“I have done some healing.  I've never really discussed it openly before. I have four beautiful children and I do my best by them and that makes me feel less horrid.”

“I'm pretty good. I feel spiritually and physically healed. Confession and joining the church helped tremendously. What still hurts - I miss my kid. But now I have even more motivation to strive for heaven so I can meet my child!”

“She’s doing well now but it took about a year to get over the worst of the hurt. She joined a post-abortive women’s group, named her baby, asked the baby for forgiveness and promised to hug him in heaven. She finally told me about a month after the fact and said that was crucial in her healing because before she had kept the whole thing just to herself and was simply tortured by it. She also promised the baby that she’d live a life that made her abortion worthwhile (debatable terminology but you get what she means), so she stopped the partying and sleeping with guys she didn’t love and focused on school and making a life her baby would be proud of. Now she’s graduating college with a good job and on a good path. I don’t know what still hurts for her, we don’t talk about it much. I think she’s just trying to put it all behind her.”

“Talking to a catholic therapist and a priest many years later (15+ years) later definitely helped. They led me back to the sacraments, which has made all the difference. They tried to get me interested in healing retreats but I was never interested in mourning. My feeling was that the retreat would minimize or completely ignore the situation that led to my decision.”

“I am doing fine now.  I had to find healing on my own and I found it after attending a Rachel vineyard retreat.  What still hurts is knowing the people that pushed me (demanded) into the abortion have never apologized to me for their actions, words, and effectively, their lack of trust in me.”

♦♦♦

Behind every abortion, there is a woman. These quotes are but a small sampling. Today, I prefer to listen to women rather than editorialize, pontificate, or problem-solve. Will you do that with me?

If you are facing an unplanned or crisis pregnancy, a list of various resources is available here.

If you are seeking healing after an abortion, consider looking at Project Rachel.