By A.C. Storr
New Matilda (Australia)
In the middle of its biggest sex abuse scandal yet, A.C. Storr thought the Catholic Church might take a moment on Good Friday to feel for the suffering of its victims. She was wrong.
On Good Friday I went to church. I was raised Catholic, and while the storytelling and fantastical aura of religion suited me well in early childhood, it took a mere 12 years for me to fall out of love with the Church for good. On discovering in Grade 6 that I myself could not be the Pope because I had a dirty vagina, all magic drained out of the Church structure and I saw what I largely still see — a hierarchy that feeds on the vulnerability of the uneducated to maintain an insular kingdom for arrogant men. I didn’t want to be a part of it at 12, and I told my idealist parents that if women can’t lead it, it’s not for me. My mother followed suit a few years later.
So I guess in going to mass on Good Friday I was not what you’d call a neutral observer. Continue reading