Joy is Resistance
Reflections on queer Catholic joy from Max and Sr. Luisa Derouen
A Short Introduction: Pride & Protests
During the summer of 2024 (brat summer, anyone?), Joe Biden dropped out of the Presidential race and endorsed Kamala Harris, which meant that her remarks from a May 2023 White House swearing-in for advancing Economic Opportunity and Excellence of Hispanics resurfaced:
“My mother used to—she would give us a hard time sometimes, and she would say to us, "I don't know what's wrong with you young people. You think you just fell out of a coconut tree?"
(Audience laughs)
You exist in the context of all in which you live and what came before you.”
For a moment, let’s leave aside the present day sense of “what could have been” if we had elected this qualified woman of color who, though imperfect, certainly had both the job experience and frankly, the compassion necessary to lead a group of people as diverse and unique as Americans (as exemplified in the purpose and audience for this quote).
There was clearly wisdom in her statement. We do all exist within a context. And Emma will tell you that preserving and knowing this context is itself a form of sacred work, as she shared in the first essay on Queer Catholic joy. Even the fact that this “coconut tree” moment became a meme has a kind of poetic justice to it—a single incident capturing the way that online platforms and meme culture were used to overshadow real qualifications and expertise, as well as commodified reposting and reuse without crediting.
Fast forward to June 2025, and we’re putting the protest back in pride. Rainbow Capitalism is on the back burner (good riddance) as most brands lack the backbone to hold fast to any motivation other than empty consumerism. And the hedonistic celebration component of pride, although a valid expression of feeling free to love and celebrate, has also been set aside for now. There’s an urgency to this Pride Month, as queer and marginalized people are (and always have been) on the front lines of the battle for human rights for all.
Across the country, thousands of people participated in the No Kings protests on the same day as Trump’s birthday military parade. People came together to counter the narrative of Trump as a king with, according to some Christian nationalist circles, a divine right. It harkens back both to the first installment of our masculinity series (thematically on point with the title “No Country for Kings”), where we called out Bishop Barron for equating a State of the Union address to a liturgy, and the very root of this queer Catholic joy series.
We originally intended for this series on Queer Catholic Joy to be posted the week after Easter, countering the narrative of Christ as king (leveraged intentionally by many Christian nationalists) and the centralization of trauma (although valid and necessary) in discussions of queer people and religious institutions. So it feels only reticent to return to this sentiment in Max’s discussion of how this queer Catholic joy series came to be. We will also be featuring a reflection by Sr. Luisa Derouen–a vital advocate for trans people, especially trans Catholics, and a critical figure in Max’s own spiritual journey.
What does joy have to do with it?
As we’ve mentioned in the previous installations of the Queer Catholic Joy series here on this Substack, this project was originally mean to come out at Easter—but was sidelined when Pope Francis passed away and the Catholic world became understandably absorbed in everything from his funeral to Napa fundraisers trying to court conclave votes to Donald Trump making an AI image of himself as Pope (yes, I’m tired of talking about that too) to the shocking election of a Pope from Chicago.
Releasing a joy series within Pride Month feels complicated because so often, LGBTQ content gets confined to June—highlighted briefly, then pushed aside the rest of the year. Our stories deserve more than a marketing moment. And queer people don’t owe mainstream—or Catholic—media a polished performance of joy just because it’s June.
Our celebration of joy includes resistance. It includes protest. It includes every facet of queer identity, even the ones that aren’t easily packaged or advertiser-friendly.
If you’re serious about supporting LGBTQ communities, that support has to be tangible. Hire queer and trans writers. Platform queer and trans speakers. Invest in real protection for marginalized communities, instead of offering symbolic gestures or remaining silent when it matters most. For queer and trans Catholics, especially those with influence or visibility, this is a crucial time to use your platform to push for transformation—not to reinforce the status quo or justify harm in the name of belonging. Safety for some—especially those with the most privilege in the LGBTQ community because of proximity to cis-het whiteness–doesn’t mean safety for all. This is an intersectional struggle. And in the fight for survival and liberation, neutrality is not an option.
The original intention of publishing this series during easter was not just the obvious parallels in the spiritual journey and story of Easter with the life of queer and transgender people, but also as a response to the christian and Catholic fundamentalist articulation of their belief in what Easter’s most important message is: “Christ is King.”
On places like “Catholic twitter” (a social media cesspool of terminally online Catholicism where the fusion of fandom and theology resulted in intense gatekeeping and horrifyingly cruel condemnations of anyone not playing the role “perfectly”), the significance of Christ’s suffering and crucifixion was a footnote to his “victory over death,” which became the central focus of Easter celebrations.
One of the issues here is that “Christ is King” is a statement of analogous authority, implying that the earthly authority of a monarch resembles the divine authority of God to the degree that the utmost devotion and deference to authority belongs to God—something God eschewed often throughout the bible. This is expressed both in the life of Jesus who refused the throne, but also in the old testament such as in 1 Samuel 8, where the Israelites beg for a king to “be like all the other nations.” The prophet Samuel resists, warning them what kings will take—taxes, sons, daughters, labor. But the people insist, so God allows it.
If it is human nature to clamor for a monarch, then an expression of joy for those on the margins will always be resistance and the destabilization and deconstruction of power structures that reinforce our exclusion. We don’t fit the expectations of empires, and our lives are bold indictments of earthly systems that seek to subjugate and dominate.
Max’s Experience of Queer Catholic Joy
My queer Catholic joy fully embraces this expression of queerness and joy as a subversive and yet powerful response to “the powers that be” in a world that so often wants queer people gone.
I was born and raised in a Catholic family that emphasized obedience to both rigid doctrine and to a very specific performance of Catholicism: stereotypical gender roles (traditional sexual ethic) as the ultimate blueprint from which all theology flows.
I had experiences from young childhood signaling my trans identity, but lacked parents who would acknowledge or even recognize those experiences. My male identity has been persistent and consistent throughout my life.
Finding the words to express my identity and then a community of Catholics who affirm and recognize not only my identity but also the true heart of Catholicism has radically changed my life and is my purest expression of Queer Catholic joy (not to mention, meeting Pope Francis and telling him in Spanish that I am a transgender Catholic!).
This joy is more than the sum of its parts: authentically being yourself and sharing that true self through a loving faith community is something we all deserve, no matter our tradition.
Sr. Luisa Derouen has been a pivotal figure in the LGBTQ community. Sr. Luisa, as she is affectionately known among the community and at Outreach conferences, is a Dominican Sister of Peace. She first began ministering within the transgender community in 1999 and since then, has ministered one on one to about 250 trans individuals. As she shared in her journey on Fortunate Families, a Catholic LGBTQ resource, she has a gay brother and lesbian sisters, “so when I finished my term as vocation director for my community, I asked and got permission to minister with lesbian and gay people.”
She first began by attending PFLAG meetings; it was there that she met a transgender woman for the first time and began her ministry shortly thereafter, advocating with her position for the existence of trans people and their recognition by the institutional Church. Her life is a testament to using her privilege as a professed woman within the Church to advocate for change, and to show up for the trans community as a Catholic sister who sees us for who we are.
My name is Sister Luisa Derouen. Joy has been at the heart of my experience of God since I was 16 years old, and now I'm 81. For the past twenty three years, I've been keeping a joy journal. Every time I come across a quote that's striking to me, I record it in my journal so I can go back and pray with it. By now, I have lots and lots of quotes.
But there are a couple that came to mind as I thought about this reflection about joy and transgender people and the Easter season. The first one is by Paul Tillich, who was a Lutheran theologian, and he says, “joy is nothing else than the awareness of our being fulfilled in our true being, in our personal center.” It's the awareness of being fulfilled in our true self. The second one is by Leon Bloy who is a Catholic novelist, French novelist, and he says it a different way. He says, “joy is the most infallible sign of the presence of God.”
I've loved that one for many years. For twenty six years, I have had the privilege of experiencing firsthand this kind of joy in the transgender people with whom I have walked through their sacred journey of transitioning. My mantra to them has always been when you are seeking the truth, God is with you and not against you. Holiness is about living in the integrity of your life. And how that integrity looks in somebody's real actual life is joy.
It's one of the gifts of the holy spirit. Let me be clear. Joy isn't feeling happy or being optimistic or smiling all the time. Joy is a state of being. It's a disposition toward life.
I have experienced for many years this deep down, grounded, faith filled joy when transgender people claim and live in their truth. I have seen them come to life. That's resurrection joy. That's Easter joy.
Here is the video version of Sr. Luisa’s reflection:
Thank you for joining us as we continue to share these stories on Sundays throughout the month of June for our Queer Catholic Joy series.
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Great piece! Thank you, Max and Sr. Luisa!
Beautiful! I echo Anne's comments — thank you Max and Sr. Luisa for your vitally important work. 🏳️⚧️ May we all cling to joy as resistance.