Barrett’s big Catholic family seen as a threat
Swirling around and within Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett’s confirmation hearings this week, was discussion and criticism of her Catholic faith. But this isn’t the first time her faith was placed front and center during a confirmation process.
In 2017, when the Notre Dame Law professor was nominated to her current position as judge on the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals, California Sen. Dianne Feinstein notoriously attempted to undermine Barrett’s legitimacy to serve precisely because she was Roman Catholic. Or, as Feinstein memorably put her objection, “The dogma lives loudly within you. And that’s of concern.”
I, like so many Catholics, was dismayed and appalled by Feinstein’s remarks, in large part because they were all too familiar from my own experience.
Of course, we Catholics have long been seen as harboring some hidden, nefarious agenda, which calls into question our fitness to hold positions of power or authority. But for faithful Catholic women in particular, especially those of us who cannot hide the fact that we strive to adhere to the Church’s unpopular teachings about sex and contraception — i.e., Catholic mothers of large families — this anti-Catholic bias takes an especially ugly, sexist form. Unfortunately, I know this all too well.
Like Barrett, I’m a successful professor and a Roman Catholic mother of many (I have six living children). Like Barrett, I see no deep or unresolvable conflict between my professional ambitions and my personal faith and family life. Like Barrett, I do not try to “do it all,” but rely on my supportive husband to do more than his fair share of domestic work and child-rearing. Finally, like Barrett, my faith and my fertility have unfortunately been placed front and center in discussions of whether I am the right person for the job.
For example, when I was first on the notoriously brutal academic job market in philosophy as a PhD student, visibly pregnant with my fourth child in my interviews, I was subjected to questions and comments such as, whether my work was really all about my religion, in the final analysis; and whether I think Catholic women can call themselves feminists.
All of this was in addition to the questions about how I would finish with all these kids; how I managed to get any work done at all; whether I planned to have more children once hired; and whether I had hired help at home.
None of this was appropriate for a job interview in philosophy, especially since my dissertation work did not address any questions about sex, God, religion, Catholicism, or feminist theory. The fact that I was a Catholic should not have been a factor in determining the quality or character of my research or my fitness to teach. And yet it came up, again and again.
Anti-Catholicism, like many prejudices, is gendered in very specific ways.
My husband is also Catholic and a philosopher, yet his faith never once come up in any of his job interviews, and his fatherhood was never perceived as a professional strike against him. He was never asked pointed questions about his faith and feminism; his views on abortion were of no interest to anyone. When I look at how Amy Coney Barrett is treated, both in the Senate and in the press, I see that exact same dynamic from my own life in play. Politics aside, I feel a strong solidarity with her.
Barrett’s nomination raises a question: Why is a highly educated, professionally successful, Catholic mother of a large family so threatening? I think part of the reason is that, according to the prevailing cultural narrative, we are not supposed to exist. Our culture tells women and girls, from a very young age, that patriarchal religion and fertility will only hold them back in life — that the only viable path to happiness is through an embrace of personal autonomy, which the demands of family life threaten. Women who complicate this narrative — not by “having it all” or being perfect, but by embracing their roles as mothers while still having demanding careers — are typically not celebrated, but placed under suspicion.
Women who find meaning and fulfillment in family life and their church communities are also often condescended to, as if they are too stupid or victimized to know how to make better choices for themselves.
Amy Coney Barrett is a conservative justice and more than competent and strong enough to defend her own judicial and academic record; I expect her to sail through her confirmation. But she should not have to defend herself as a mother of seven or as a Roman Catholic to serve on our highest court. If Amy Coney Barrett is unqualified to serve on the Supreme Court this will have nothing to do with her Catholicism or large family.
That much of the press has busied itself writing fear mongering pieces about her personal faith is disgusting and blatantly anti-Catholic, but also a touch absurd.
After all, if a faithful Catholic woman, who was educated in Catholic schools and has spent most of her life in Catholic institutions, can be this accomplished and successful, maybe — just maybe — the Catholic Church is not as oppressive to women as so many seem to assume.