Can You Be a Catholic and a Feminist?

Julie Hanlon Rubio’s Can You Be a Catholic and a Feminist? is the book that I wish had been available to me years ago as a young Catholic feminist theologian and educator. Indeed, for many of us, this question of whether or not it is possible to claim a feminist identity while remaining actively and faithfully Catholic is one that we wrestle with on a regular basis. And it is a question that we are frequently asked by students and colleagues. For Rubio, this question is complicated by the declining use of the label of Catholic feminism. In speaking of many people that she encounters, Rubio notes: “Some are drawn to the beauty and prophetic witness of a countercultural faith that makes secular feminism seem empty by comparison. For others, feminism (named or unnamed) is part of who they are, while Catholicism, despite their best efforts, has come to feel like a place they visit rather than an identity they can claim as their own" (2). Addressing these experiences, the book provides a response to those who see secular feminism as too radical or the church as too patriarchal to be brought into conversation with each other.

In her brief introduction, Rubio situates the book within her own experiences and poses its essential question: “Is it possible, in the twenty-first century United States, to reconcile—logically, morally, theologically—a Catholic identity and a feminist one?” (3). As an attempt to answer this question, she describes the volume as a partner on the journey that many of us take, “offer[ing] this book as a companion for days of anger and hope, disappointment and communion, fatigue and renewal. . . . com[ing] away more able to imagine authentic and complicated possibilities of Catholic feminist identity and belonging” (10). The following chapters each explore a topic where secular feminists and Catholic theology are thought to be in conflict with one another. In each, Rubio proposes ways of putting the two perspectives in dialogue. Sometimes, this dialogue notes points of agreement that already exist, although perhaps unnoticed or underappreciated.

In chapter 1, Rubio highlights parallels between secular feminism and Catholic theology around questions of human identity and what it means to be a good human. In discussing perspectives on sex (chapter 2), work (chapter 3), and marriage (chapter 4), the author identifies significant common ground and potential for agreement between the two perspectives. At other times, Rubio points to places where Catholic theology and secular feminism might share similar commitments while arriving at different positions. In her chapters on abortion (chapter 5), the meaning of gender (chapter 6), and how power is distributed and used (chapter 7), her analysis points to places of significant difference while also arguing that sustained conversation on these topics is indeed possible. A chapter on prayer (chapter 8) deals with ways that prayer and liturgy inform the faith lives of Catholic feminists, revealing both places of tension and the need for authentic Catholic feminist practices of prayer.

In her final chapter on belonging, Rubio returns to the question at the heart of the book. Is it possible for a Catholic feminist to find a home—spiritually, liturgically, politically, and theologically—in the Roman Catholic Church? In the end, she argues that many Catholic feminists make a choice, informed by their consciences, to remain in the church. “Seeing what she sees, conscious of the limits of the church, feminism, and herself, she cannot have the ‘purity’ of uncomplicated belonging, but she can forge her own, more complex path with consciousness and joy” (201-202).

The strength of this book lies in Rubio’s commitment to critical engagement with both secular feminism and Catholic theology. In working to find common ground, she notes the places where each perspective “gets it right,” where each fails to see something important, and what each contributes to an ongoing conversation. Moreover, Rubio brings multiple perspectives from each “side” into the conversation, engaging not only a wide variety of secular feminists on a host of issues, but noting the ways in which church teaching and practice is taken up in many different ways by Catholic women. She engages the important resources of Catholic theology and ethics, key works in feminist theology and theory, and good socio-scientific data. This richly resourced text is wide-ranging and carefully researched. Particularly helpful in this regard is her engagement with new orthodox feminists within the Catholic perspective; while their perspectives on and interpretations of Catholic teaching differ from those of other Catholic feminists, they bring an important voice that insists on both fidelity to church teaching and equality for women in work and family.

This book is a welcome addition to both graduate and advanced undergraduate Catholic theological education and would serve as a particularly useful introductory text for courses considering Catholic feminist theologies. Because of its readable and engaging style, it is also highly accessible for a general lay audience, perhaps in a parish reading group. Rubio’s contribution to the conversation between feminism and Catholicism helps us to close the perceived divide between these two approaches to finding justice, community, and care. And, perhaps, it will encourage a new generation of Catholic theologians to name themselves explicitly as Catholic feminists.

Cynthia L. Cameron is assistant professor of religious education and holds the Patrick and Barbara Keenan Chair of Religious Education at the University of St. Michael’s College in the University of Toronto.

Cynthia Cameron

Date Of Review:

September 20, 2024