Rubio applied the “Page 99 Test” to her new book, Can You Be a Catholic and a Feminist?, and reported the following:
Page 99 of Can You Be a Catholic and a Feminist? deals with the contested issue of abortion. It is in the middle of chapter four, “Life.” The top part of page contains the end of a section titled, “Unresolvable Tensions” in which I outline divisions between Catholics and feminists and describe earlier attempts to move past them. “The lines first drawn in the 1970s have hardened, so that those who disagree rarely engage, and all of this makes Catholic feminism seem all but impossible.” The bottom of the page is the beginning of a section titled, “Starting in a Different Place,” in which I offer a constructive response to the impasse in the form of a “turn to narratives of pregnancy, pregnancy loss [including both miscarriage and abortion], and birth.” As I turn to women’s experience, “I attempt to take seriously Catholic concerns about the humanity of unborn children and feminist commitments to women’s bodily autonomy.” The last sentence reminds readers that here “as in earlier chapters” I am trying to get at the depth and complexity of Catholicism and feminism in order to forge a path toward authentic Catholic feminist belonging.Learn more about Can You Be a Catholic and a Feminist? at the Oxford University Press website.
Page 99 reveals a lot about my book. Here I describe both the feminist movement for reproductive justice and the prolife movement which includes many committed Catholics. I say that I will describe a range of women’s life experiences. Many readers will be skeptical of my plan to read these different experiences together. Liberal feminist readers may worry that my use of the term “unborn children” signals a lack of commitment to feminism. Conservative Catholic readers may wonder if my use of the term “bodily autonomy” signals a lack of commitment to Catholic faith. In fact, I am trying to honor the wisdom of both traditions and bring them together.
My approach in the book is complicated. I argue that being Catholic and feminist is possible, but only by acknowledging tensions, understanding commonalities, and finding creative paths of belonging. In chapters on sex, work, marriage, life, gender, power, and prayer, the book explores possible paths of “conscious belonging.” In the early chapters, I am able to show that belonging is not so difficult. The chapter on life marks the transition to harder cases where lots of tension remains and creative adaptation is necessary.
On the issue of abortion, tensions between the feminist commitment to respecting bodily autonomy and the Catholic commitment to valuing unborn children run deep. But feminists and Catholics both value experience as a source of moral wisdom. In this chapter I step back from the politics of abortion and listen to women’s stories. Viewing these stories through Catholic and feminist lenses, I see common threads emerging. Catholics and feminists are both trying to respect important values. A Catholic feminist can see both tensions and commonality. She can commit to a practice of encounter and accompaniment.
The strategy offered in this chapter requires the hard work of listening to different voices and balancing conflicting values. It demonstrates that the more you know about Catholicism and feminism, the deeper the problem of being Catholic and feminist becomes.
But I try to show in my book that the reverse is also true. Knowing more reveals more of the wisdom of both traditions and more of what they share. With the best of feminism, a credible way of being Catholic, and of living a meaningful life in a broken world, emerges. I hope readers come away believing that the difficult path of conscious belonging is worth taking.
--Marshal Zeringue