My dear fellow TradCaths:

You guys are the best! Seriously, some of the all-around best humans I’ve met. I’m so honored to call myself a member of your community since about eighteen months ago.

You all are some of the most genuine, most interesting, smartest, most well-rounded, most sincere, and truly the kindest people I’ve ever been around! You’ve been nothing but charitable to me and my family — even while we’ve been awkward, loud, and annoying, constantly stepping on toes, making faux pas after faux pas, getting everything wrong, and breaking every unspoken rule, every time we’re there. I can’t thank you enough for being so patient and nice to us.

In fact, I feel kind of awful, in comparison. Because I’ve also noticed that all of you are not only nicer, smarter, and better-behaved, but, to be frank, much more well-off, financially, than my family is. I can see this. I’ve heard your conversations about your lifestyles, incomes, and careers, and your kids’ private schools, and I’ve seen your beautiful, high-quality apparel and accessories and your fresh, expensive vehicles. I feel intensely aware of how inferior I am to all of you.

I have this strong sense that, if you don’t already kinda look down on me (which you very well should; obviously, I don’t subscribe to the whole whiny, juvenile “only God can judge me” philosophy; humans are, of course, not only capable of judging, but supposed to judge each other’s behavior and choices, as Father was just saying in his sermon a few weeks ago; and if anyone deserves negative judgment, it is me), you certainly would look down on me if you knew me a little better.

Basically, I’m painfully aware of how much worse than you guys I am. And this painful self-consciousness — which is entirely my fault, not yours — is beginning to affect my faith life.

Comparison is the thief of joy, right? But we could also say that comparison is a great motivator. Rather than letting it get me down, I ought to be inspired by your superiority, and strive to imitate you!

Unfortunately, just being realistic: I’m never going to be like you guys. And, in many ways, I’ve realized: I don’t actually want to. Which is fine! We may be one in Christ, but our Church does not demand cultural uniformity! I’m weird and trashy, and maybe that’s not the worst thing a person can be. I’ve decided to try to stop letting it bother me.

(Keyword here being “try”… being realistic, I’m probably going to continue to be deeply bothered by it indefinitely. Sorry.)

I’ve spent so much time and energy, over the past two years, stressing about if it’s “okay” for me to be this way, if it’s “permissible” for me to be that way, if I’m allowed to simply exist the way that I am. And it’s starting to really wear on me. It’s making being Catholic a real drag, sometimes. And it’s actually preventing me from forming genuine connections with you lovely people. I’m done trying to hide my weirdness! I’m done trying to larp as one of you. I’m done apologizing for things that aren’t sins.

So, in this spirit, I’ve compiled the following list of Things I’m Done Apologizing For, as a White Trash TradCath™️. Going forward, I will try to be less ashamed. If this is my scarlet letter, I will wear it proudly.

Keep in mind here that I’m talking not to any real-life individual, but to some imaginary amalgamation of all of you — the fictional embodiment of all the critical voices in my head, which I’ve projected onto you, and which may or may not resemble your actual opinions at all. So please don’t take my bitterness personally.

I’m no longer sorry for:

20. My terrible taste in music. I know you folks strictly listen to beautiful, edifying, worthwhile music. Not I! Oh no, not I. I’m not proud of this, which is why it’s #20/10. But I’m also no longer going to self-flagellate and wallow in self-loathing because I enjoy pop radio. My husband jokes that we should just roll up to church blasting Gretchen Wilson (“I ain’t no high-class broad!“), but being me, it’s more likely to be Future (“’cause I’m always reppin for the low life”) or some such. Don’t worry, I’m not really going to do that. I’d sooner die.

19. My occasional use of profanity. Not around kids or in “good company,” but yes, in casual settings with trusted friends, and on this blog, I will sometimes say “shit” and “fuck.” I know it’s not a great habit, but it’s also not that big a deal. I don’t break the Second Commandment (took a lot of work, but I was able to break the “omg” habit), nor do I ever curse or name-call individuals (I’ll sometimes call bad drivers “dinkus” or “butt” or “ding-dong,” but I watch my tongue when it comes to hateful speech). But if a thing or a situation merits it, so what. Sometimes it’s okay. I’m tired of being told it never is.

18. Borrowing elements of secular holiday observations. Yes, we do Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny in my house. Yes, we dress up and trick-or-treat. We even do the Tooth Fairy. I don’t love it, but whatever. It’s harmless fun. No, it doesn’t detract from our religious celebration.

17. Being a slob. My house isn’t picture-perfect. My life isn’t picture-perfect. I’m disorganized. I am a mess, and I bring the chaos with me wherever I go. You may call it sloth, but it’s just the way my brain works. I can explain it, but I can’t understand it for you.

16. Taking Tylenol. No, it doesn’t cause autism. Acetaminophen is perfectly safe and harmless in normal doses. I’ll take it for a headache. I’ll give it to my babies for pain and fever. I’ll even take it, in normal doses, while pregnant. Pain relief is a good thing.

15. Treading on your gun rights. I don’t care about the second amendment, and I’m tired of pretending to be okay with our country’s gross fetishization of guns. I’m tired of pretending to be neutral and tolerant, of smiling and nodding while folks talk about gun stuff because I don’t want to start conflict. No child deserves to die for your “second amendment rights.” Gun ownership needs to be heavily restricted in the US and I can’t be convinced otherwise.

14. My ugly tattoos. Yes, tattoos are bad. I agree. Unfortunately, I got all of mine done back when I was a Godless drunken heathen, and now they are simply scars that I can’t yet afford to have removed. And yes, I will continue to keep them covered, to the best of my ability, until Mass is over. But I’m sick of wearing a long-sleeved cardigan in 90°+ heat during coffee hour for fear of y’all judging me.

13. Smelling like a cheap, headache-inducing chemical rendition of strawberry shortcake. I don’t care that I’m 36. I will continue to wear my delicious, delightful, disgusting, pheromone-disrupting Bath & Body Works body sprays until they put me in the dirt.

12. Using screens sometimes. Screens are bad. I fully agree. But do we really need to go full Amish about it? Probably not. (I actually think kids these days need some familiarity with screens and tech, so that they aren’t completely baffled and starstruck and vulnerable when they inevitably grow up and emerge into this screen-dependent world.) Like most parents, I’m constantly trying to reduce screen use, but, as a therapist once told me: “screen time is better than scream time” — that is to say, a bit of a carefully-selected TV show can be a lifesaver for a frazzled and burnt-out mom.

11. My kids’ behavior. Of course I know that children need to be taught to sit still and quiet during Mass. I’m working on that. I see most of y’all’s toddlers are able to sit perfectly still and quiet; why is it that mine can’t? I don’t know, but I’m trying my best, and I’m so tired of the parent-shaming in tradland, and tired of feeling like an inferior parent or like I’m failing my kids because they (6 y/o and under, btw) are sometimes wiggly and talkative.

10. Vaccinating my kids. This is a big one. I know most of y’all will hate me for this. Go ahead. I’ve researched it from both sides, and while I won’t say I’m exactly confident about being pro-vax, as far as I can tell, research favors the pro-vax side, so that’s what I’ve chosen. I won’t apologize for making informed decisions to protect the health of my kids and my community.

9. Not raising chickens. Or cows, or pigs, or any other kind of farm animal, or having a homestead at all. I realize that a big reason why I don’t fit in with you all socially is because you are all, every one of you, farmers, and I’m not a farmer and don’t want to be. Noble and wholesome as farming is, I simply don’t want to wake up at 4, 5 AM every day to go trudge through the mud and manure, in all kinds of weather, to feed animals. And I’m tired of feeling like this is a moral failing on my part.

8. Not jumping on the sourdough bandwagon. Everyone makes sourdough these days! And that’s cool! But I, once again, simply don’t want to. Why would I spend my precious free time laboring over some fussy, fickle loaf that no one in my family will even eat, when I could be reading, writing, or drawing. That sounds tiresome and depressing. I’m glad it’s working out for you guys, but I’ll pass.

7. Not shopping at Azure Standard. I’m aware that this is the hot place to shop, for TradCaths. It’s where all of the cool kids get their groceries! (What is going on right now? Am I back in high school?) I’d like to be able to afford to shop there, sure, but I’m on more of a Walmart, Food Lion budget right now. Shopping at normal stores — oh the horror, right?!

6. Giving birth in a hospital. Home birth is the norm, at our parish, I’m aware of that. But I could never. Yes, a hospital birth has its drawbacks, and your freedoms might be somewhat limited — but that’s a sacrifice I choose to make for relative security in the event of a life-or-death emergency. (And anyway, maternity wards are way better and more accommodating than they were 30, 40 years ago, so I really don’t get the hospital hate.) Personally, I am not willing to risk my baby’s life in order to achieve the comfortable, picture-perfect, on-trend, “~all natural~” birth of my dreams.

5. My vegetarianism. Raising and killing your own animals for food is also very on-trend, in our religious community. Hard pass! I don’t eat meat and I don’t want to! Meat is gross and unnecessary, and slaughtering animals for our own consumption is ethically questionable at best, and I’m tired of pretending to be neutral and tolerant on this whole issue.

4. Not drinking raw milk. Pasteurization is not some newfangled, “big pharma” invention. People have been briefly heating milk to kill harmful bacteria for a really long time. It’s so simple. I don’t understand why people feel this need to drink it straight from the teat, as if that’s somehow better. Gross. I don’t even drink cow milk, I prefer soy, but I thank God for pasteurization so that my family can consume dairy safely.

3. Not mingling. Sometimes I’m so self-conscious about how painfully self-conscious I am, that I try and fake it and force myself to be more social, to pretend to be normal. To mingle. Which always backfires and leaves me with cringe to last a lifetime. It’s best if I just stay put and don’t even try. So please don’t take it personally if I sit in the corner and wait for you to approach me first. It’s not personal. I like you all. I just don’t do mingling.

2. Getting a late start. Here in tradland, we’re all about getting married young and having babies early. That’s lovely. I wish that had been me. But I’m an old mom. I had my first child at 30. Not fair to compare, I guess: most of y’all inherited good Christian values, tradition, wisdom, discipline, and money. I inherited alcoholism, debt, anxiety, and an eating disorder. (Not pinning the blame on my parents — they are awesome, and I don’t blame them for a single thing — but it’s also dumb to pretend that privilege isn’t real and that some of y’all weren’t born with the proverbial silver spoon.) We are not the same.

1. My family’s income. I know some of you probably look down on us, but I’m proud of my husband for what he’s been able to build for us out of less than nothing. He didn’t have a leg up, or a support system, or even any real guidance from anyone. We both went to public school (can you imagine?!). He’s clawed his way up from below-zero, all on his own power, to earn us everything that we have. Some of you might think we’re trash because of our current income and lifestyle. That’s fine. Go ahead and think that about us. I am done caring.

“I feel sorry for your kids,” you may be commenting — to which I would respond, thanks so much for your concern on behalf of my kids! I assure you they’re great. I feel sorry for yours, too.

And maybe this letter is, to some extent, unfair. It’s entirely possible that none of you have any beef with me or my family whatsoever! Maybe, like so much else, it’s all in my head. As I said, this letter has been addressed to the voices in my head — my imagined versions of you people — rather than any actual real-life person.

And I haven’t meant to sound hostile. I honestly do like and respect you all so much. And I cherish a secret hope that getting all this off of my chest here, anonymously — that liberating myself from my enslavement to your opinion of me — might allow us to actually start to become friends.

Or not. Maybe I’m not paranoid and you really do hate me as much as the voices in my head tell me you do. But if so, that’s none of my business. And I still like and respect you.

See you on Sunday,

Mith