Penguins on the beach
Aug. 7th, 2004 12:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbcIt was always a big deal when the nuns arrived. Da’s younger sister Eileen (OK one of his 4 younger sisters, plus one older, plus 2 younger brothers) surprised everyone when she announced her vocation at 19. Eileen was the brassy one: neighbourhood ring leader, intimidated by no one (not even Pop, who intimidated Da until just before he died). But she was called, and she entered the (wait for it) Sisters of Saint Dorothy in Rhode Island. The Dorothians are a teaching order, and their claim to fame is that the surviving Fatima child is a member--though she’s been shipped off to the Carmelites to avoid the faitherazzi.
For Catholic kids, having relatives that are clergy is a bonus--especially if they’re an aunt or uncle. It’s impossible to view priests and nuns as mysterious when you’ve seen them arguing with your Da over who was their mother’s favourite. I was never afraid of nuns or priest, nor police officers (we’ve a lot of those in the family). I never thought religious people had a direct line to Gawd, or that their perspective or insight was better than mine. I’d seen them with corn-on-the-cob goo on their chins. I’d seen them sneaking cigarettes with their sisters. I’d seen them bodysurfing.
Yes, bodysurfing. For a week every August the nuns would drive down from Rhode Island (cold, cold water) to Rockaway (kinda warm water) to be Less Nunlike. They’d pull up in their practical, beige sedan, park the car (Aunt E still drives like a NYer), and race up the front porch stairs in their post Vatican II habits (can’t run in the Old Skool habit without falling over), and reappear in minutes in their 1950s-style bathing suits. We’re talking hideous floral prints, with big frills things around the waist and industrially padded boob straps. I think they were donated to the order by some inebriated circus clowns . . .
The nuns--Aunt Eileen, her “particular friendship” Sr. Keegan, and any number of other nuns (a rotating cast)--would verily skip to the beach, chairs, towels and boogy boards in hand. They’d be splashing in the water most of the day. They weren’t trashy but they weren’t terribly nun-like either, aside from the odd “Gawd bless” tacked on to their sentences. They were fun. They were nice. Dare I say it, they were kewl.
Today, while I don’t doubt my aunt’s faith, I also wonder how much of her decision to enter religious life wasn’t strategic. Aunt Eileen’s brilliant (2 masters degrees) and ended being the Mother General for the Dorothians: the Mother General is the national Mother Superior. She taught, principalled and superintended schools in NY and Rhode Island. She learned a fair bit of Portuguese (the Mother house is in Portugal) and Spanish. Her life has been focused as much on learning (as a teacher and student) as anything else. For a smarty, sassy 19 year old woman in the Bronx in 1956, in a family of 8 kids with no money for university, it makes a for a compelling choice.
As for Aunt Eileen’s sexuality, I’ve not a clue. I would be surprised if she’s not kept her vow of chastity with men or women--she’s all about credibility. I do think her frienships have been sustaining and nurturing for her. I’m not terribly concerned with categorizations or labels--I’m just glad to know she’s been loved her whole life. Including by her former students. I’ve always had the sense she’s one of those teachers who busted your chops but did everything to help you learn if you were willing to the work. Not unlike myself.
Doing queer activism means dealing a lot with the damage done by organized religion to folks--individually and collectively. Aunt Eileen’s been very open to discussing my work. What’s clear to me now is that The Church is very much different with respect to gender. Nuns have focussed much more on the mission of Christ: service, care, love, justice. It’s the male-dominated hierarchy that’s toed the hardline about sexuality and gender. I find religious women often rock.
And surf. For the record, Aunt Eileen can cut the curls with the best of ‘em.
For Catholic kids, having relatives that are clergy is a bonus--especially if they’re an aunt or uncle. It’s impossible to view priests and nuns as mysterious when you’ve seen them arguing with your Da over who was their mother’s favourite. I was never afraid of nuns or priest, nor police officers (we’ve a lot of those in the family). I never thought religious people had a direct line to Gawd, or that their perspective or insight was better than mine. I’d seen them with corn-on-the-cob goo on their chins. I’d seen them sneaking cigarettes with their sisters. I’d seen them bodysurfing.
Yes, bodysurfing. For a week every August the nuns would drive down from Rhode Island (cold, cold water) to Rockaway (kinda warm water) to be Less Nunlike. They’d pull up in their practical, beige sedan, park the car (Aunt E still drives like a NYer), and race up the front porch stairs in their post Vatican II habits (can’t run in the Old Skool habit without falling over), and reappear in minutes in their 1950s-style bathing suits. We’re talking hideous floral prints, with big frills things around the waist and industrially padded boob straps. I think they were donated to the order by some inebriated circus clowns . . .
The nuns--Aunt Eileen, her “particular friendship” Sr. Keegan, and any number of other nuns (a rotating cast)--would verily skip to the beach, chairs, towels and boogy boards in hand. They’d be splashing in the water most of the day. They weren’t trashy but they weren’t terribly nun-like either, aside from the odd “Gawd bless” tacked on to their sentences. They were fun. They were nice. Dare I say it, they were kewl.
Today, while I don’t doubt my aunt’s faith, I also wonder how much of her decision to enter religious life wasn’t strategic. Aunt Eileen’s brilliant (2 masters degrees) and ended being the Mother General for the Dorothians: the Mother General is the national Mother Superior. She taught, principalled and superintended schools in NY and Rhode Island. She learned a fair bit of Portuguese (the Mother house is in Portugal) and Spanish. Her life has been focused as much on learning (as a teacher and student) as anything else. For a smarty, sassy 19 year old woman in the Bronx in 1956, in a family of 8 kids with no money for university, it makes a for a compelling choice.
As for Aunt Eileen’s sexuality, I’ve not a clue. I would be surprised if she’s not kept her vow of chastity with men or women--she’s all about credibility. I do think her frienships have been sustaining and nurturing for her. I’m not terribly concerned with categorizations or labels--I’m just glad to know she’s been loved her whole life. Including by her former students. I’ve always had the sense she’s one of those teachers who busted your chops but did everything to help you learn if you were willing to the work. Not unlike myself.
Doing queer activism means dealing a lot with the damage done by organized religion to folks--individually and collectively. Aunt Eileen’s been very open to discussing my work. What’s clear to me now is that The Church is very much different with respect to gender. Nuns have focussed much more on the mission of Christ: service, care, love, justice. It’s the male-dominated hierarchy that’s toed the hardline about sexuality and gender. I find religious women often rock.
And surf. For the record, Aunt Eileen can cut the curls with the best of ‘em.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 05:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 08:45 pm (UTC)