A Life’s Journey of Reconciling Queerness and Catholicism

Queerness and Catholicism coexist as “two notes of the same hymn” for writer Madalyn Goff. 

In her reflection for Advocate, queer Catholic Madalyn Goff recounts her journey as she learned that queerness and faith do not have to exist in opposition. Goff, who was raised Catholic and considers Catholicism to be her earliest foundation in life, recalls both the beauty of this tradition as well as the burdens it can impose, such as guilt and shame. In her early life, attempts to navigate her faith and a growing awareness of her queerness were plagued with confusion and fear–that is, until she finally allowed herself to be fully honest with God. She explained:

Madalyn Goff

“At church, I’d sit in the pew and wonder if God could see right through me, if He knew about the thoughts I tried to bury, the prayers I whispered without words. I prayed for forgiveness, though I couldn’t say what for. Maybe He’d just know. Maybe He’d fix me, make me pure again, make me “right.” 

“But He never did. Instead, He met me there — in the confusion, the guilt, the quiet corners of my faith where I didn’t have answers. I like to think now that He was never trying to change me. He was just waiting for me to see that I didn’t need to.”

Still, Goff recalls the tension of early attempts to reconcile her faith and her sexuality: “To be queer felt like breaking a rule; to be faithful felt like betraying myself.” As she grew older, Goff began to realize that her queerness and her faith were not opposites; rather, they were reflections of one another. Here’s how she described it:

“My faith taught me about forgiveness, sacrifice, and grace — concepts that look different now but feel even truer. My queerness taught me the same things in another language. Both are ways of reaching for love, for truth, for belonging.

“My belief in God isn’t in spite of who I am; it’s because of who I am. Because I know what it means to wrestle with identity, to question and still believe, to love through conflict and find peace in paradox…I’m still Catholic. I’m still queer. And I’m still learning how to hold both with tenderness.”

For Goff, wholeness has come not through denying her queerness or abandoning her faith. Wholeness has come through embracing all parts of herself and recognizing both her sexuality and her faith as gifts from God. Her sense of belovedness and the recognition of these gifts does not depend on outward affirmation, she notes, but rather they have emerged through an understanding of faith as relationship:

“I don’t know if the Church will ever fully embrace people like me, but I do know this: My faith doesn’t depend on the Church’s acceptance. It depends on the quiet, unshakable belief that God is bigger than any doctrine, more merciful than any judgment, and more loving than we can imagine. 

“Maybe that’s what faith really is — not certainty, but the decision to keep showing up. To keep believing that even in contradiction, there is grace. To trust that the same God who hung the stars also made me exactly as I am.

“My faith is my anchor. My queerness is my freedom. Both are holy. Both are mine.” 

—Phoebe Carstens, New Ways Ministry, September 17, 2026