As a gay Catholic, I’ve often paradoxically felt invisible and under a microscope. At once alone and forgotten by the church, yet under constant scrutiny for fear that any mannerism or turn of phrase would out me as being gay. In the eight years since I started coming out, this invisibility has only intensified, as most churches in my local community are fixated on the condemnation of LGBTQ people rather than any messages of compassion. But for me, this invisibility is no longer paired with that same fear of being “found out.” Instead, I now have a determination that the church knows that I, and others like me, are still here. Part of that determination comes from a global online community of LGBTQ Catholics I’ve helped to assemble.
Every week, I have the absolute privilege to message and meet other LGBTQ Catholics from around the globe. It never ceases to amaze me that across radically different cultures and countries, there is still a common queer experience within the church. We have the courage and hope to stay Catholic precisely because of these online interactions. These virtual friendships are no substitute for in-person community, but they are an indispensable lifeline that has helped me, and so many others, navigate our faith and sexuality when no one else in the church seems to listen.
I never meant to start a community for other queer Catholics because, like so many have told me, I didn’t think there were many of us out there. That is because when some people discouraged me from coming out as gay, they told me I would be lonely and unable to find community. But the stories I’ve been fortunate to hear online show me the beauty and strength of this part of the church. We are a community of people who want to participate in the sacraments, discern our vocations and grow closer to Jesus—just as any other Catholic would. Yet, so often, as soon as any of the L-G-B-T-Q words slip from our mouths, our Catholic siblings fixate on our sex lives when all we want to talk about is our faith. So, we do what the LGBTQ community has often been forced to do—we look after each other.
Queer people are looking for Catholic community because we want to talk about our faith in a space where we can freely integrate all of who we are.
Queer people are looking for Catholic community because we want to talk about our faith in a space where we can freely integrate all of who we are. And with so few LGBTQ Catholic communities available in person, online forums have become a harbor for us. Many of the conversations I am part of are not about justifying a particular sex life while staying Catholic, but simply navigating a faith that we love. We just happen to be LGBTQ.
My DMs and Discord are filled with questions that might appear on any other Catholic-oriented platforms: What keeps you Catholic? How do you know if you can receive communion? How do I go back to confession when I’m afraid a priest is going to tell me to “pray the gay away”? Who’s doing a consecration to Mary or Joseph? Who wants to get together and pray the rosary this week? Who are people’s patron saints? The faith lives of queer Catholics are just as real and rich as any other Catholic—we just have to continually navigate being told we do not belong.
Even when I go to Mass alone, I still feel this tension. An act that is at once a comforting spiritual practice, worshipping God and praying with my local community, can feel like an act of defiance. For years, it was difficult for me to go to Mass because I felt so isolated when I went. Without any local LGBTQ Catholic community, I felt like an outsider as soon as I set foot in a Catholic church. But the online community I helped create gives me hope. I might still be sitting in the pews by myself most weeks, but I know that a great cloud of LGBTQ witnesses joins me as we all participate in the same sacrament—the same worship of the same God.
I might still be sitting in the pews by myself most weeks, but I know that a great cloud of LGBTQ witnesses joins me as we all participate in the same sacrament.
Online community has been the lifesaving bridge that helped me get through the darkest moments of my life. It was a gift to have spaces to ask questions and it has also connected me with people in the real world, including some people who became some of my best friends. It has helped me create a local community of LGBTQ Catholics and introduced me to a side of Catholicism that gives me hope. There are Catholics who want to go to Mass with me, priests that I can talk to about the joys and struggles of my life, and very many faithful LGBTQ Catholics who are each doing their best to follow God’s will. Online communities have not prevented me from interacting with the church but instead have deepened my connection to a church I love.
Catholic means universal, and while we wait for the church to realize we belong too, we will continue to be here for each other. We’re connected online and, more importantly, in spirit. Each Sunday, as we gather for Mass, we are connected through the Eucharist, crossing time and space, praying for each other and gathering around one common table. Online communities help make that spiritual reality a little more human. When I see a message from a fellow Catholic saying that they are praying for me, it helps my faith become more tangible. If you go to Mass this Sunday, whether it is your first time at church this week or in years, know that countless LGBTQ Catholics join you, and we want you to know, no matter what your local church says, that we’re glad you are here. You belong, and, most importantly, you are loved.
