thoughts on the pope from a former Catholic

Yesterday, I found myself watching a live feed of St. Peter’s Square to witness the announcement of the new pope. I watched news coverage and scrolled through updates as they came in on the New York Times website. I scoured the internet for an idea of who it might be. Tagle, Pizzaballa, the list went on and varied from publication to publication. And then, a cheer erupted from my screen as a cardinal announced, “Habeus Papam,” and out walked Pope Leo XIV.

I looked at my bedside table and found a rosary given to me by my mom 20 years ago, grabbed it, and firmly grasped the beads in my hands. I don’t know what came over me to do so. I keep the rosary right next to my bed as I have since I was a child, but I haven’t used it for prayer in many years. Yesterday, though, I found myself meditating and clicking the beads between my fingers as my mind wandered.

I began to research the new pope’s politics, how he covered up church scandals and in 2012 made anti-LGBTQ+ comments, how he aligned himself with Francis on the environment and migrants, and, of course, how much he hates JD Vance. I texted my dad that the new pope is American, and he immediately responded, “Yes, a Villanova alumnus.”

Growing up Catholic in NYC, I was exposed to a broad, yet tight-knit community. My dad worked with Catholic schools for over a decade. I attended Catholic elementary school, high school, and even a Catholic college. My family went to Mass every Sunday, fasted during Lent, and prayed every day before meals. Dried palm crosses from Easters past littered the walls of my family’s apartment in Queens. My bedroom shelves were covered in votive statues of the Virgin Mary and St. Jude (the patron saint of lost causes), among many, many others. It seems that all of the NYC Catholics have six degrees of separation from each other. A single mention of Cardinal Timothy Dolan’s name either brought scorn or delight among family members, depending on who you were talking to. My high school graduation Mass was at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I've been enmeshed in Catholic culture for as long as I’ve been alive.

I haven’t gone to Mass in several years. I was very involved with music ministry in high school and college, singing and playing the piano at church from the ages of seven to 21. After a while, though, it all lost its shine. I struggled with my faith and what I believed in, especially once I came out as transgender. There was a lot to grapple with considering the fact that I’d sat through a myriad of sermons about the evils of queer people throughout my life. I never saw myself reflected in my church, or really in any other church for that matter. But yesterday, somehow I found myself watching the pope speak to the crowd at St. Peter’s.

I’ve found that, while I’m not as connected to the Church as an institution these days, I still identify very strongly with my Catholic upbringing and the culture that comes with it. I easily recall the hymns I sang each week, I can recite the Mass from memory. While I’ve been alienated from this incredibly flawed institution, I still have hope that maybe, just maybe, something good will come from it.

Watching Pope Leo XIV speak to the public for the first time, I felt a mix of feelings that I hadn’t experienced in a long time - nostalgia for a faith that I am greatly disconnected from, fear for queer Catholics around the world, and, surprisingly, a slight twinge of hope for the future.

I have a lot of big, complicated feelings about Pope Leo XIV, but I hope that he does right by the people he serves, and I pray (yes, pray) that he has compassion and the understanding that the needs of the Church have changed drastically over the years. In any case, I anxiously await his papacy.