Heretic: A Memoir – From Evangelical Indoctrination to Queer Liberation and Secular Community

by Jeanna Kadlec

A memoir of leaving the evangelical Church and the search for radical new ways to build community, reckoning with religious trauma and Midwestern values as a means to unveil how evangelicalism directly impacts every American--religious or not--and has been a major force in driving our democracy towards fascism.

Jeanna Kadlec knew what it meant to be faithful--in her marriage to a paster's son, in the comfortable life ahead of her, in her God--but there was no denying the truth that lived under that she was queer and, if she wanted to survive, she would need to leave behind the church and every foundational building block she knew.

Heretic is a memoir of heretical rebirth. From the story of Lilith to celebrity purity rings, a newly married Kadlec interrogates how her indoctrination and years of piety intersects with her Midwest working-class upbringing as she navigates graduate school in Boston, revealing another insidious truth--that conservative Christianity has both built and undermined our political power structures, poisoned our pop culture, and infected the way we interact with one another.

Weaving the personal with powerful critique, Heretic explores how we can radically abandon these painful systems by taking a sledgehammer to the comfortable. Whether searching for community in the face of millennial loneliness or wanting to reclaim a secular form of fellowship in everyday life, Kadlec envisions the brilliant possibilities that come with not only daring to want a different way but actually striking out and claiming it for ourselves.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Religion, LGBT, Queer, Audiobook, Biography

267 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 25, 2022

About the author

Jeanna Kadlec is a writer, astrologer, former lingerie boutique owner, and recovering academic. Her writing has appeared in ELLE, NYLON, O the Oprah Magazine, Allure, Catapult, Literary Hub, Autostraddle, and more. A born and bred Midwesterner, she now lives in Brooklyn. HERETIC is her first book.

Reviews

[Kim Zoby Fulgham · Rating 1 out of 5]

A memoir that should have been left untold. Cringe worthy. A blame all my issues on my parents and the church read. Horrific writing style. Her statement that church is for white people is ridiculous and offensive.
I usually pass along my arc readers but this one is going in the trash.

[Jessica Kruse · Rating 5 out of 5]

Heretic by Jeanna Kadlec is a memoir of growing up in evangelical Christianity in the United States and how that bleeds into every facet of life. She touches on how her upbringing repressed her sexuality, how it's possible to believe these things while still being an educated person, the ways evangelical Christianity has influenced American culture and politics, what it was like to "deconstruct" these beliefs in young adulthood, and how the brainwashing she went through as a child and teenager will affect her for life, even after her beliefs have changed. A good portion of each essay is dedicated to educating on these issues using statistics and data.

I related to this book so much. I think I highlighted more in this book than I have for any other I've read so far. I honestly wish it had been a little longer, just because I think there's SO MUCH to unpack when you've grown up in the culture that Jeanna Kadlec (and myself, and many many others) have. This is a must read for anyone who has deconstructed and/or considers themselves an "ex-vangelical."

Thank you to NetGalley and Harper for the ARC for review.

[Kara (Books.and.salt) · Rating 3 out of 5]

Heretic is Jeanna Kadlec's personal story of escaping a manipulative family and abusive husband, as well as her journey to cope with the grief of losing her faith. It explores the role of Evangelical Christians in suppressing youth, as well as other misgivings of the church.

This was a very strangely written book. The tone was unexpectedly inflammatory, the author often coming across as dry and aloof. I so badly wanted to enjoy this memoir, mainly because I love anything that explores the... "intensity" of Evangelical Christians. But the writing style is very hard to get into with choppy, abruptly ending paragraphs and random time jumps. I did enjoy the authors raw, sometimes jarring, honesty and the fact that she didn't shy away from discussing some of the more sensitive issues within Evangelical churches.

While I admire the author for putting her story out there, and going through all she did to escape and heal from religious trauma (hell yes for healing through D&D!!!!) I did not vibe with a lot of the language used, as it came off as inflammatory to me. Some sections were professional and well written, but others had weirdly casual phrases.

This was an interesting read, but I don't think I'd go as far as to recommend it - this was a very "surface level" nonfiction.

[Jenn · Rating 2 out of 5]

Overwritten and surface level. It calls itself a memoir but didn't read like one. I didn't enjoy picking it up and I couldn't wait for it to be over. 2.5 rounded down.

[Emily · Rating 2 out of 5]

I really wanted to like this! Its themes are near and dear to my heart, and when the boom was at its best it felt like a 3.5/4-star text. But there were so many points where the author reveals a worldview that still mimics the oversimplification that often happens in evangelical churches (for me this was most notable in the passages where she wrote things like “everyone on the east coast thought I couldn’t be smart because I was from the Midwest and religious.” (I’m paraphrasing, but that was definitely the thrust), or her critiques of the mainstream media which are just… coming from a milquetoast HRC liberal kinda view??) it was bizarre, on a lot of levels. Like, you’re mad at people making sweeping regionalist and classist generalizations and then you respond with your own? Also, like, you could have talked to a single Southern or Californian exvangelical to maybe add nuance to the overall experience you’re describing? Or better yet talk to people outside of your grad program (which is clearly where a lot of these judgements being painted as universal for all east coast residents come from).

Reading this you may think I’m some defensive Atlantic seaboard resident, which: lol forever. I grew up in Texas and live in California, and the critique she offered was about as nuanced as something I might’ve heard from a college freshman (btw I went to school on the east coast and had a v different experience!) I’m just shocked a woman in her thirties had such an immature way of articulating those experiences. The rest of the book is relatively well-written, but those passages felt like angsty email material shoehorned in to meet a deadline and a page count. Writing books is hard and you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do, but for me as a reader, it really spoiled the book.

[Hannah · Rating 5 out of 5]

Phew, I loved this. The second half in particular had some genuinely perfect essays, it made me think and reconsider some longer held (unconscious) beliefs, and it broke my heart while somehow remaining grounded in a positive worldview.

[Meg · Rating 5 out of 5]

Some books just get a grip on your heart and don't let go - and for me, Heretic is one of those books. Weaving personal story with broader cultural examinations, Kadlec's memoir balances intense vulnerability with rich, essential insights on the evangelical church, white supremacy, and the far right movement. Works like this are increasingly important, particularly in the United States in 2022, and Kadlec understands the necessity of exploring American history through the lens of Protestant theology, highlighting the ways that this mindset has entrenched itself in American policy, education, culture, and even the way we understand and teach our own history. This book is essential reading for anyone who has lost themselves in a larger system, particularly religious institutions, and serves as a healing balm for the queer community.

Endlessly grateful to have gotten to read early drafts and an advance copy of this book - I know I'll be revisiting it over and over again.

[Rachel B · Rating 1 out of 5]

My biggest complaint about this book is the author’s conflation of evangelicalism with fundamentalism with far-right politics (specifically, Republican stances). She states before even beginning the book that “for simplicity’s sake,” she’ll “use ‘evangelical’ as shorthand for contemporary evangelicalism and fundamentalism both.” But these terms are, in fact, not interchangeable. And the book goes downhill from there.

Kadlec’s tone is full of hatred and bitterness. She uses a lot of manipulative language to support her own biases. It seemed to me that she had much more emotional processing and healing to do and that, quite frankly, she wasn’t ready to write this book.

The writing style feels very disorganized – almost like this was her first draft, just dumping out everything inside her. This made it really difficult to read. The author didn’t appear to know what she wanted to write, since this comes across as part memoir, part history, part social commentary. I think if it had been only a memoir, it would have been a lot better – but the combination she chose just didn’t work for me.

Kadlec was one of those unfortunate souls to grow up in an abusive household, and an abusive, legalistic church. Instead of acknowledging that hers was simply one experience, she groups all those who identify as Christians together – without allowing for any nuance in the experiences of the vast majority. Interestingly, she briefly offers grace to her mother, stating that “people are complicated.” But only people she knows and loves, apparently. For the rest, she only has rage.

The author lays all the blame for deteriorated relationships with her Christian friends on them – supposedly they just couldn’t handle her being gay. But if this book is any indication of how she communicates, it seems apparent why she lost a few friends along the way. Why would anyone want to sit around and listen to her spewing hatred for everything they still believe in, or rage at them, and judge them, for not changing their beliefs the way she has? Not to mention, all of this happened in her 20s, which is when friendships and lives change a lot, anyway. (According to Shasta Nelson, author of Friendships Don't Just Happen!, a woman loses half of her friends every seven years, on average.)

Kadlec claims that the Church is just a front for the power-hungry, white supremacist patriarchy – and she repeatedly throws these hot-button words around when they don’t even apply.

I thought it was kind of ironic when, at one point, she complained that she didn’t grow up going on family vacations, and that she’s “still” never been on an airplane with her parents. There are so many people this applies to, and it’s honestly just not a big deal. Especially not when she clearly grew up with plenty of the “privilege” that she’s supposedly against.

At one point, she finally said something I agreed with – that a good education doesn’t equal liberal morality – but even then, the surrounding paragraphs were so jumbled, I couldn’t quite understand why she bothered to bring it up. In the same breath, she was touching on religion, which she thinks is okay if it’s animistic or “indigenous,” but apparently Christianity is the result of evil colonization, so that doesn’t count. Then in a separate part of the book, she mocks those who believe in “an invisible sky god.” (Never mind the fact that no one is born believing something, that everyone is taught by others, no matter where they were born or where they live now.)

I actually found it pretty interesting that in leaving her extreme right, devout religious beliefs and stances behind, she then turned to the very opposite – extreme left-leaning politics, including the LGBTQ+ community. It seems to me that when many are used to extremities, there is no moving to the middle of the road, for some reason. The opposite example (moving from the extreme left, LGBTQ+ community, etc. to an extremely devout, somewhat legalistic Christianity), is shown in Rosaria Champagne Butterfield’s memoir, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert.

Another interesting facet for me was seeing how supposedly devout Kadlec was in her Christian faith, yet seeing her lack of understanding that salvation is by grace alone, and her stubborn resistance to surrender. She states over and over again that she cannot stand the words “submission” or “surrender,” particularly when she was talking about her relationship with her ex-husband. But Christians are called, first and foremost, to surrender the personal, sinful human will and exchange it for Christ’s perfect, submissive will. Christ was submissive to the Father God, and Christians are to submit to the Father God, as well. Kadlec just couldn’t bring herself to do that, yet she’s convinced that she was very “faithful” – equating faithfulness with obedience to the Ten Commandments, etc. and seemingly ignoring that God sees our hearts.

Note: There are a few scenes that are quite sexually graphic, and the author uses a lot of profanity. There are also spoilers for a couple of classic books, which is a pet peeve of mine.

I received a free ARC through a Goodreads First Reads giveaway!

[Tiffany Rimes · Rating 1 out of 5]

Church is for white people? Tell me you don't know any BIPOC without writing a whole book about your privileged life. Not surprised this got published. Just sad.

[Ella Dawson · Rating 5 out of 5]

A devastating and generous memoir about growing up in an evangelical, Midwestern family and the author's grief as she wakes up to the painful, discriminatory systems that governed her world. Jeanna Kadlec pushes through the shame of religious trauma to share her experiences with divorce, losing her faith, and coming out as queer. There is so much in this book that is necessary and urgent: how Christian fascism is baked into the DNA of American culture and government, the normalization of all kinds of abuse within religious communities, and how scripture has been twisted to support racism, sexism and homophobia. It is smart and beautiful, tackling its subject matter on micro and macro levels.

I did not grow up with organized religion, and my atheist childhood made it hard for me to detect the creeping sexist ideas my ex held about marriage and the role of women, rooted in his Christian worldview. On a personal note, Kadlec's stories of sexual coercion and the pressure to submit to her husband gave me the lens I needed to understand my relationship. "The church teaches that two become one, that marriage is the death of individuals and the birth of a new union. What is the self, then, within an evangelical marriage? A disappearance, an invisible woman."

This book is a gift, and a challenge. I find myself wondering if the negative reviews here on Goodreads are a knee-jerk reaction from devoutly religious folks who find its premise personally threatening.

[Michelle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC.
I really enjoyed this book. The author was raised in an evangelical church, worked hard to be a "good girl" and do everything right, was still criticized by church leaders, fell in love and married an evangelical man . . . and discovered that not only could she not be a submissive wife in this marriage, but that she was also gay. I really enjoyed reading her experiences; many of us who struggle through faith challenges/loss or change of faith can really feel less alone when reading others' struggles. I found the part where she began to work out her life and relationship to faith later on interesting--less directly helpful to me, as it was a personal journey, but still I enjoyed reading about it. This is a courageous book and I'm glad I had the opportunity to read it.

[Jean Sharon · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting story. But it should've been a podcast or something maybe. I still really liked the content tho.

[Libby · Rating 5 out of 5]

As a fellow Midwestern ex-pat bearing scars from religious trauma, Heretic, Jeanna Kadlec's forthright, righteous, ambitious, and deeply compassionate memoir about unlearning evangelicalism and making one's own community, feels like it was written for me. And while parts of this book resonated with my own experience so much that I exclaimed "WHOA!" a number of times whilst reading, much of what kept engrossed to the last end stop was not where our experiences overlapped, but rather Kadlec's unique, sometimes surprising path towards radical self-love.

Judging by the number of reviews of this book by people who clearly haven't read it, Kadlec's unflinching take on the evangelical rot that's been a feature of the US since before its founding and that is currently driving the nation towards fascism has ruffled some feathers. Good. I can't think of a higher compliment for this book than that it enrages Christofascists. A part of me also hopes that in the process of searching for gotcha-takes in the text, some initially hostile readers come to appreciate and learn from the hard-won grace Kadlec extends to her past self, the deep intelligence with which she navigates intersections of identity, privilege, and trauma, and the wit and humor that shine through.

Also? Reading Heretic has made me really, really excited to see what Kadlec does next. Whatever it is, I'm confident that it'll be as smart, penetrating, and remarkable as this book is.

[Emile Franke · Rating 1 out of 5]

DNF. Overwritten and overwrought. Shallow and needlessly inflammatory. All the pieces are there but it's just a mess. Everyone has a story but not everyone can write it, or should.

[em · Rating 1 out of 5]

fair warning... i am going to hurt some feelings with this review. but as an author you open yourself up to criticism when writing a book.

this book was absolutely not what i thought it would be. i was under the impression this memoir would chronicle the author's time as part of the evangelical church: self-reflection & breaking away, & then finally ending with a revised (& perhaps hopeful?) opinion about how Christianity & queerness can coexist...because they can. & they do. i'll elaborate more on that in this review, but all this to say: that part is my fault for going into the book under the wrong impression.

the memoir felt like one half societal/psychological analysis & other half memoir...& neither side was engaging or paced correctly. the jumps were harsh & the details were either too in depth or not present at all. there were also many places where the prose was trying way too hard to be poetic & "quotable", which turned me off even more.

it wasn't just the actual structure of the novel that felt off, it was also the general content. i will start off with a disclaimer!!!!!!!: i dislike the modern evangelical church as much as everyone else & my dislike for this book is not me disagreeing with her critiques on the church today. i, too think it is deeply flawed & all Christians need to reevaluate its structure and message.!!!!!!!

the author mentions multiple times about how her disillusion of the Christian faith paved the way for spiritually to take the witchcraft & tarot route. i understand this was her experience & expanding on her re-found(?) spirituality, but that aspect of the story fell flat for me & i was simply not interested in reading any of it.

perhaps my biggest issue with this book, was her all or nothing view on faith. she may not have meant it to come across this way, but it seemed as if she didn't believe lgbt+ individuals & belief in God (inside or outside of organized religion) was possible. this is blatantly false, as queer people are able to & do have meaningful relationships with God & other evangelicals. obviously the modern church restricts this, but spirituality outside of these confines can exist. its quite damning and harmful to project those kinds of ideas onto a new generation of young people struggling to make sense of & navigating how to balance their queerness & spirituality. they deserve to know these things can coexist & we as mentors need to rewrite this false narrative. God's creation was purposeful & meaningful & it is the church made by humans that have disrupted this foundation. i could say soooooo much more about this but i'm limiting it for the context here.

last point i'll touch on that made me >:( ... the author says "i do know Jesus mom,... that's the problem". like?????? i'm sorry but what we're not gonna do is equate the modern evangelical church with Jesus. Jesus was perhaps the antithesis of the modern evangelical church & i would go as far to say he'd be disgusted & appalled at the way humans have corrupted his teachings. Jesus is love. He fought for, loved, & served the least of these, the minority. to say Jesus is the problem with Evangelicalism is so reductive & frankly wrong. He was & is the only good thing to come out of it.

okay, rant over.

:(. really wanted to like this one.

[Heather Hogan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jeanna Kadlec is the moment. There has never been a more important time for this memoir, in which Kadlec shares her story of growing up in the evangelical church, getting married, coming out as a lesbian, wrestling with her faith (Jacob-style, to the bone), leaving her husband, and pursuing her wildest dreams in her new life. Weaved throughout the candid narrative are essays that unearth the death-grip the church has on our cultural and political landscapes. It’s moving. It’s incisive. And it’s a balm, too, if you’ve also scuffled with the Lord.

[AJ · Rating 3 out of 5]

I could strongly relate to the journey of a city living midwestern-born queer divorced exvangelist practicing tarot/astrology, but the overall writing wasn't that great.

Read like a bunch of Twitter threads edited together instead of feeling like a well written book. Like she didn't have enough interesting life experience or stories of her own to actually fill a book, having to resort to referencing other books or just defining words to fill up space.

Had high hopes for this, but this could have easily been a good long read article instead of drawing it out.

[Michaela Wright · Rating 2 out of 5]

“By evangelical standards, I did everything right. I was deeply faithful. I led Bible studies. I was a virgin on my wedding night…I walked the straight and narrow, and it wasn’t enough. What more could God possibly want from me? Total submissiveness.”

This was an interesting read but deeply sad as well. I picked it up because I was curious about what drove Kadlec away from her upbringing and faith. It was immediately obvious that the churches she was raised in did not accurately display the truth of the gospel. She was entrenched in churches of unbiblical dominant male headship and purity culture, not mention an abusive father, an unloving and oppressive marriage, and harassment she experienced from male peers as a teenager. For her, God was never god of grace but rather only one of wrath and judgment against sinners, and she equated the Holy Spirit to an invisible jailer who is always watching lest you stumble.

This is experience of church (understandably) left her bitter and jaded against any form of male leadership (especially if they happened to be white and conservative) and pushed her towards women and other identity groups for companionship.

Reading this made me want to let her know that there are biblical, evangelical churches that are not suppressive toward women. Yes, male headship is biblical in the church and in the home but that doesn’t mean a woman can’t work or make any contributions. It doesn’t mean she should have no opinion or that her thoughts don’t matter. A woman is not lesser.

All that to say, her personal story is not why I have given this book two stars. She writes well and for Christians it’s worth a read to know how she has and others have been and can be scarred by bad theology. I gave it two stars for the following reasons:

• Her use of the term “evangelical” is unfair - it paints all churches with a broad brush. She basically implies that every single evangelical church is the same as the one that she was raised in, and that people still a part of one are trapped. True evangelicals understand that we can’t “do everything right” (see above quote), that we rely on the Holy Spirit for grace to have faith and believe in Jesus as Savior. I am not trapped by being a woman and a member of a healthy local church.
• Her interpretation of scripture is misguided. She is a master at proof-texting passages and verses to make her point that the Bible is misogynistic and queer affirming (she quotes Paul’s letters on women being silent in church, head coverings, and the story of David and Jonathan’s friendship in the OT). Kadlec also talks about how she prayed a lot when she identified as a Christian. This is admirable and certainly something good to do, but prayer is inspired by knowing what the Word of God says in its totality, understanding its context in how the Lord chooses to reveal his character. She doesn’t ever mention having read the Bible for herself to test the scriptures against what she was learning from her pastors and elders to truly know who she was praying to.
• She cites Beth Allison Barr’s book “The Making of Biblical Womanhood” quite a lot, which is a book I’ve read. While Barr denies that male headship prescribed in Scripture (something I disagree with), Barr certainly does not affirm that God’s word supports the LGBTQ+ ideology in her book.
• She is prone to political rants that don’t fit the narrative appropriately and she equates all conservative evangelicals with the far right republican party. Example: Evangelicals are always looking to their future home of heaven and are not worried about the present. Therefore they don’t care for the earth and climate change, and this directly influences the Republican Party. This is a stretch - any true Christian should both earnestly look forward to being with God in the New Jerusalem yet also wisely steward the resources He has given i.e. take care of the the earth He created for us to live on presently. She also loved to talk about how conservative, heterosexual, white males are almost always the problem.
• She is unnecessarily graphic about a couple of her relationships. I guess that should’ve been expected on my end since it was written by a gay person in 2022 and apparently anything is appropriate to publicly share, but I would’ve rather been spared some of the sexual details she enclosed.

[Hannah Showalter · Rating 5 out of 5]

A book hasn’t made me think in a long time as much as this one had. Such good commentary on the Midwest, particularly Iowa, in connection with religion and queerness. My religious upbringing certainly wasn’t as strict as the writer’s, but a lot of it connected with me. I also felt very seen in her journey in coming to terms with being a lesbian. Also made me think a lot about the ways in which spirituality exists in my life now in the absence of religion. Much to unpack and made me want to write through my own experiences.

[Landon Hosely · Rating 1 out of 5]

Just got into reading memoir during the pandemic after reading Maid. Now it's pretty much all I read anymore. I don't know what this is though. I think it was supposed to be a twitter thread then the author added a lot of words to fill up the pages. Much better memoirs by ex evangelicals out there.

[Kelly · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was part social commentary, part exploration into one woman’s specific journey to accept her authentic self after a lifetime of indoctrination which told her that her life is not hers (it belongs to Jesus, above all, and should be directed by her husband on earth).

I am not queer, I am not an ex-evangelical (though I have recently stepped away from the Catholic Church) and I have been with the same man for fifteen years, but I found so much of this memoir to be relatable. Maybe it’s because I grew up Midwest adjacent, maybe it’s because Kadlec and I went to the same college and there are certain experiences that rang true, maybe it’s because I also am trying to reconcile what I thought my life would look like vs. what it actually is. But I found myself nodding my head quite a bit, thinking, “Yes, I know this feeling,” even when my circumstances were wildly different.

I enjoyed the ways the author made this educational, how she explained how her evangelical faith not only shaped her life but also shaped this country’s, how she criticizes without condemning. There is an underlying empathy towards the people who have not left the church, but who have left Kadlec, that I’m not sure I would possess in similar circumstances.

I disagree with other reviewers that didn’t like the writing style; while later chapters did seem a little disjointed due to the timeline jumps, I also think it is a reflection of what this time period felt like for the author. A little jumbled, a little chaotic, at once freeing and heartbreaking. I think there were things that could have been explored more in-depth, especially the loss of community and the rebuilding of another, but I also recognize that leaving the church (and therefore most of the meaningful relationships in her life) was a traumatic experience for her and I don’t think I’m owed anyone else’s trauma (even in a memoir). The voice that others think is dry is authentic to me - people raised in rural, midwestern farming communities have built walls that don’t often jive with the warm, casserole loving people depicted in the media - because liberals born from conservative environments are jaded and acerbic. Others think the tone is too inflammatory, but of course it is. This memoir burns with anger, with brokenness, because even wounds that are healing leave nasty scars.

In the end, I think we’re all searching for ourselves, to trust the paths we have taken, and I appreciated this honest glimpse into how Kadlec learned to do that for herself.

[Gigi Ropp · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful story of rebirth! As a non-religious, queer woman living in a very religious culture, this book was eye-opening! So many of the stories seemed so familiar and helped me to better understand the experience of my religious peers! The author writes in a raw, vulnerable voice that felt both authentic and trustworthy.

[M. · Rating 5 out of 5]

It was a good read.

[Salem ☥ · Rating 4 out of 5]

"There is no framework of restorative justice for victims of sexual assault and rape within the cult of sexual purity, no real punishment for abusers, and certainly no chance for the recuperation of what we have dangerously been taught is our primary spiritual good. What’s more, sexually abused, unmarried women and girls are implicitly interpreted as having 'asked for it' anyway, our bodies an inherent source of temptation, 'dangerous' to ourselves and to others. If you can make a man want you, you’re responsible for what comes next."

This was so raw, and more of a think-piece than what I would consider to be a "real" memoir. It deconstructs Evangelicalism and its racist roots (Which are absolutely there. I'm from the south. Everything that isn't white is considered evil. Hoodoo, Indigenous practices, Etc).

"Purity culture is about normalizing rape culture and calling it good citizenship."

This memoir includes gut-wrenching accounts of her marital rape, what it means to find yourself, and when the author finally starts living. I'm so proud of Kadlec and that she was able to get out. Ugh. Her story really spoke to me, especially since she got quite into spiritually/witchcraft after deconstructing her religious upbringing. She makes me feel so seen—specifically her thoughts about Jesus, & how it often feels like Christians fail to understand him and what he believed in.

"As an evangelical teenager, I didn't trust my own mind, too afraid to sin. Straying too far away from the early Christian internet could lead to temptation, to lust, to anger, to doubt. Perpetually aware of my own failings and ever the budding perfectionist, I aspired to a nearly ascetic level of spiritual self-discipline, which was in fact self-denial. I believe that I had chosen my faith for myself, not realizing that I had been conditioned all my life to be the ideal, obedient subject."

[Suzanne · Rating 5 out of 5]

This memoir was thoughtful, intelligent, heartfelt, open, and brave, and I couldn’t put it down.

Jeanna Kadlec’s account of her transition from follower of evangelical Christian dogma, with all of its emphasis on conformity, strict adherence to “biblical womanhood” roles for female members, and policed behavior by church leaders, chronicles her shift to divorced lesbian creative, writer, and astrologer/tarot card reader.

As she comes to understand the damage that her church’s rigid fundamental principles and practices can do to its followers, she takes first a leap and then a long adjustment to a different way of life. With new beliefs and a new life, and connecting with other “ex-vangelicals,” she breaks free, but not without a cost. She is still plagued with missing her old identity, missing her former relationship with God, and especially missing the closeness of the community she valued so much within the church.

I gave extra points for her explanations of the complexity of her intellectual and emotional shifts and how she had to change, not only her beliefs, but her whole paradigm and mental model, which had been, for her entire childhood and adolescence, based on black-and-white / either-or systems of thinking that were no longer useful to her. Instead she had to come to an understanding of the value of a world view that allows for ambiguity, doubt, questioning, and intuition, a vastly different proposition for someone raised in an environment of conformity where even the notion of exploring other ideas was forbidden. Her new philosophy is something she has had to build “from the ground up,” and is not just a matter of incorporating her gay identify into her old world view.

In Chapter 7: Queen of Swords, she discusses the role of language in the current zeitgeist and how politicians stress the idea of the inerrancy of language in both scripture and the Constitution, insisting that the meanings of words are absolute and can have no contextual “trace” based on individuals’ personal associations, which allows leadership to attempt to control thought. In the same chapter she talks about her new intuitive spiritual practices, tarot and astrology, that serve as a substitute for the rigid doctrine of evangelicalism, instead integrating intuition, emotion, and spirit alongside reason, logic, and a healthy skepticism. She is finally able to value true spiritual communion and ritual with others in a safe place with LGBTQ friends and realize an eventual reconciliation of new ideas about spirituality with new approaches that create new ways of achieving joy.

[Emma Ann · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 I saw so much of myself and my own experiences in this memoir. Some sections towards the middle read like prose poems.

The memoir is split between reflection on Kadlec’s personal experiences and description of supporting research, and I find the first more successful than the second. Kadlec writes with empathy and insight into the people in her life, but her description of academic (and occasionally non-academic) sources is not quite as nuanced. That said, the point of a memoir is of course the writer’s personal reflection, so this makes sense to me.

Thank you to the author for providing a review copy!

[Emily Archibald · Rating 5 out of 5]

Damn y’all. This one got me.

[sage e · Rating 3 out of 5]

overall this was good! i just wish the author would’ve stayed more on the path of memoir rather than incorporating many long tangents about social constructs that aren’t really followed through with.

[Emily]

The Midwestern exvangelical memoir I'd been waiting for! To support the author and the HarperCollins Union (which has been on strike since 11/10/22), you can purchase this book through their Bookshop.org page (scroll down to the "Biography, Memoir & Essay" section):
https://bookshop.org/shop/hcpunion

[Janai · Rating 4 out of 5]

does having religious trauma make you gay or does being gay make you have religious trauma