God Likes Chess
NOVEMBER 9, 2020
I attended catholic schools for three years of my young life and all I gained from it was trauma and an un-natural fixation towards catholic articles and relics. I fainted everytime I went into this church. Fine memories of blacking out at the sight of green marble.
Facebook, 2012.
Baby’s first trip to Dennis uniform.
Baby’s first trip to Dennis uniform.
In retrospect Catholic school was kind of iconic.
An element of Seattle Catholic Schools that cannot go untold is the CYO dances.
A CYO, Catholic Youth Organization, oversees all of the schools within the Archdiocese. Every Friday, a different school held a dance open to every middle school (7th/8th grade) student in the CYO. You could imagine what might happen if you invited the middle school body of 15 Catholic schools to a two hour dance in a poorly lit gymnasium filled with religious fetish objects. In my 20 years of life, these dances are still the sluttiest thing I have ever witnessed. These were the days before having a big butt was cool, these were the boob days. However, as a 7th grade girl you had two choices, pencil skirts or yoga pants. You arrived at that dance ready to bounce your hips side to side until you feel sweaty small palms grip your waist. I regret, so heavily, to inform that I have barely any photos from CYO dances, despite attending them for two years straight. I also regret to inform, that I belive these dances do not exist anymore, and I think that is a great choice on behalf of the CYO. You had to be there.
A CYO, Catholic Youth Organization, oversees all of the schools within the Archdiocese. Every Friday, a different school held a dance open to every middle school (7th/8th grade) student in the CYO. You could imagine what might happen if you invited the middle school body of 15 Catholic schools to a two hour dance in a poorly lit gymnasium filled with religious fetish objects. In my 20 years of life, these dances are still the sluttiest thing I have ever witnessed. These were the days before having a big butt was cool, these were the boob days. However, as a 7th grade girl you had two choices, pencil skirts or yoga pants. You arrived at that dance ready to bounce your hips side to side until you feel sweaty small palms grip your waist. I regret, so heavily, to inform that I have barely any photos from CYO dances, despite attending them for two years straight. I also regret to inform, that I belive these dances do not exist anymore, and I think that is a great choice on behalf of the CYO. You had to be there.
I also attended a Catholic High School, way less iconic, way more traumatizing. I can still remember every single time I got called to the deans office. I remember the way adults looked down on me and belittled my existence. I was accused of being prostituted by my parents, accused of dating my own father, and most memorably accused of drugging students from my school—while I was out of the country. I made a list in my notes app of all the horrible things I was told or accused of by both adults and my fellow classmates. I wish I still had that list because I wouldn’t be against reviving some of these rumors and accusations, they were kind of awesome. Praise be!
