From Theotokos to Theobros: How Gender Essentialism Shapes Theology

naholicism

White Mary and the Weaponization of Gender Absolutes

Max Kuzma and Emma Cieslik Mar 28, 2025

Digital illustration by Maxwell Kuzma

Introduction to Gender Essentialism

“I just don’t see you as masculine,” were the words a Catholic man said to me in the very early days of my transition, before hormone replacement therapy deepened my voice and caused a beard to fill in across my cheeks. He was looking at my physical body, as yet unchanged by the weekly testosterone shots that needed time to affect me externally. Because he knew that my birth sex was female, he was applying gender essentialist views to me–arguing that I had an innate quality of “femaleness” that would always define me. But is gender a fixed quality that stays with you from cradle to grave? Or is there more variety and diversity within the world of gender than some would like to admit?

A post on threads by user “mortalcesar” that touches on the issue with fundamentalist thinking that rejects our modern understanding that sex and gender are more complex than what we were taught in elementary school. This type of thinking prohibits communication with those outside this framework.

In conservative Catholicism, gender essentialist views are (unfortunately) not rare. One of the most common essentialist texts is John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, which was released around the same time that a new phrase, “gender complementarianism” started to be used in the evangelical world to capture the concepts of biblical male headship and the roles that Christian men and women are expected to play in the home and in society. “Theology of the Body” assigns theological meaning to the body, claiming that one’s anatomy as ordained by God should define their actions and role in the world.

This rigid framework creates a hierarchy, a ranking for how feminine or masculine a person is, and assigns more value to those who conform best to traditional gender roles. In other words, it becomes a competition for how well a man or a woman can perform masculinity or femininity. Yet, we all know that this line of thinking mostly plays on stereotypes! Strict adherence to these roles and stereotypes are detrimental not just to trans and nonbinary folks but also to the men and women who don’t fit them perfectly.

In this essay, we will explore how gender essentialism, rooted in rigid binaries and absolutes, ultimately collapses under its own contradictions—both in its failure to account for the complexity of human identity and in its deep entanglement with white supremacy, Christian nationalism, and patriarchal power structures. By briefly examining some of the cultural, historical, and theological underpinnings of these absolutes—particularly in Catholicism’s veneration of Mary and the rise of far-right traditionalism—we will consider how a more nuanced and historically informed understanding of gender and identity challenges the rigid frameworks imposed by gender essentialists.

Note: this is the fifth installment in a series on Catholic masculinity featured on this substack. The first installment is: No Country for Kings: Bishop Barron & the Catholic Performance of Masculinity. The second is: We're Giving up Toxic Masculinity for Lent. The third is: Player 2 has Entered the Chat. The fourth is: Blessed are the Empaths, for they are the Greatest Sinners. There will be one final piece in this series released sometime next week.

The So-Called “Genius” of Binary Gender: Bodies, Binaries, and Burdens

Catholic and Christian thinkers often speak of the “feminine genius” and “masculine genius,” theological concepts that attempt to define gender through divinely ordained roles. But what exactly is the feminine genius? Rooted in John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, this framework assigns spiritual significance to human anatomy, claiming that true fulfillment comes only when one’s life aligns with the supposed theological meaning of their body (and by the way, you’ll have to forget about the existence of intersex people for this to work!). It prescribes an essentialist view in which gender is biologically determined and fixed, leaving little room for personal experience, identity, or the complexity of human nature.

Under this model, a woman’s body is seen as proof of her purpose: childbearing, caregiving, and nurturing. Her value is tied to softness, receptivity, and emotionality—traits framed not as personal characteristics but as divine mandates. This framework not only flattens the diversity of women’s experiences but also erases those who do not conform to these roles, including queer and trans individuals who experience profound embodiment through their identities. It insists that gender is an inherent, inescapable essence rather than a lived reality, restricting the possibility of self-expression and the sacred joy of fully inhabiting one’s body in an authentic way.

Traditional gender roles are often upheld as morally superior, creating a hierarchy where those who conform receive the most respect and affirmation. But gender is not defined by rigid roles—some women want to lead companies, some men want to stay home with their children, and neither choice is more or less valid (though the “manosphere” would disagree!).

Understanding my trans identity required rejecting the assumption that biology dictates gender within a binary. Instead, I embraced the unlimited, God-given diversity of gender we see throughout the natural world. The rigid enforcement of gender roles doesn’t exist in a vacuum—it is deeply intertwined with broader systems of fundamentalist control, including racial purity myths, white supremacy, and Christian nationalism. To fully understand how gender absolutes function within Catholicism and beyond, we must examine their historical roots in purity culture and their continued use as political tools in far-right ideology.

“Theobros” cannot exist without “Tradwives:” Race, Purity, and Gender Absolutes

While men often enforce traditional masculine roles online, women, especially those subscribing to the tradwife movement, play a pivotal role in defining and enforcing what masculinity should look like through their performance of the “tradwife” role. Tradwives advocate for a return to "traditional" gender roles, emphasizing submission, homemaking, and male headship as the ideal for women. Rooted in nostalgia for a mythologized past, their performance of womanhood romanticizes pre-feminist eras while reinforcing rigid gender hierarchies that serve patriarchal and even white supremacist ideals.

The performance and mythology of tradwives dovetails fairly seamlessly with a pre-Vatican II type of religiosity that glorifies the latin mass and other idealized traditional elements of Catholic life–women draped head to toe in lace, eyes downcast, rosary beads threaded between white-gloved fingers. This imagery has made a resurgence in modern social media use by conservative, fundamentalist Catholics who push their vision for what a “good Catholic woman” should look and act like.

In the wider Christian church, figures like Joe Rigney in his 2025 book The Sin of Empathy argue that true liberation for women comes through embracing hyperfemininity and submission. This mirrors the fears promoted by earlier Christian figures involved in politics like Phyllis Schlafly in the 1970’s, who claimed that the Equal Rights Amendment would undermine the role of housewives, invoking fear that women's rights would threaten their way of life. Author Kristin Kobes Du Mez traces how this type of evangelical political action led us to the present moment in her book, Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation.

Meanwhile, Catholics like JD Vance, Bug Hall (Little Rascals actor turned Catholic traditionalist in adulthood) and others who play into these rules exhibit troubling patterns of sexism, authoritarianism, and an obsession with ritual over compassion. Even conservative Catholic women, like Amy Coney Barrett (Associate Justice of the Supreme Court), who helped overturn Roe v. Wade, has recently been called a DEI hire for not falling in line with MAGA ideals.

And the Latin Mass has now become a rallying point for ultra-conservative factions resistant to Vatican II reforms. Rather than fostering unity, these sects use the Latin Mass to reinforce rigid hierarchies, particularly oppressing women through enforced modesty and submissive roles. Many who attend these Masses report an atmosphere of judgment, exclusion, and even cult-like rigidity, where rules such as veiling for women and prohibitions on certain colors take precedence over spiritual growth. These communities often reject modern Catholic teachings, creating an insular, fundamentalist environment that views alternative expressions of faith with disdain. The rise of younger Catholics embracing this radical traditionalism is particularly concerning.

A post on social media site X from Bug Hall demonstrates his essentialist views of marriage. Hall also referred to the birth of his son, after having daughters, in this way: “Finally, I have an heir!” In this way he demonstrates the fundamentalist thinking that values male headship and patriarchal authority.

White Mary as the Ideal Woman

Mary has long been a point of friction between Catholics and evangelicals, (with the latter accusing Catholics of worshipping her), yet both traditions have used her image to enforce abstinence and idealized womanhood. Especially during the Purity Culture Movement of the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, Mary was upheld as the ultimate model for young Catholic girls—pure, virginal, and maternal. Her blue garments, symbolizing purity, trace back to the precious pigment lapis lazuli, but her widespread depiction as a White woman is a medieval construct that flourished alongside her veneration. In the last 50 years, as White American Jesus imagery has gained dominance, so too has a White, brown-haired Mary, erasing Brown and Black depictions—particularly in far-right Catholic spaces where the Virgin of Guadalupe has been sidelined due to its association with immigrant communities.

As Annmarie Barrett explains in her essay “What’s whiteness got to do with it?,” the White, brown-haired image of Mary has been used to enforce a social purity ethic in Catholic spaces, rejecting and marginalizing those who don’t conform. And tradwives of many faiths have been quick to pick up on this and idealize Mary in these same ways. This issue is especially problematic in Catholicism, where the culture of machismo intersects with Evelyn Stevens’ concept of “Marianismo,” which glorifies hyperfemininity, chastity, and the veneration of male dominance.

Ultimately, Mary has been co-opted by radical traditionalist Catholics as a model for traditional womanhood, despite having lived in a vastly different historical and theological context. Her perfection as both a virgin and mother–and someone who is not alive today to contradict those who idealize her–makes her a figure who aligns seamlessly with the Theobro narrative, reinforcing unrealistic standards for women while simultaneously reinforcing equally unrealistic and idealized standards for men. The appropriation of Mary, particularly by followers of White Jesus, allows her image to be weaponized in support of rigid gender roles, with even Vatican unapproved Marian apparitions contributing to this modern reinterpretation.

Beyond White Mary: Diverse Depictions for a Universal Church

Depiction of Mary by Ben Flowers with the inscription “Cast down the mighty, send the rich away. Fill the hungry, lift the lowly.”

White Mary stands in stark contrast to Black Madonnas and other non-European depictions of Mary, which have long been embraced by communities that have suffered under colonial and Christian imperial violence. The Black Madonna of Częstochowa, for example, remains a powerful religious and national symbol for Poland, while Our Lady of Guadalupe has been a beacon of resilience and justice for Mexican and undocumented immigrant communities.

As the closest connection to divine femininity in a religion often structured around rigid gender binaries, Mary has historically absorbed pre-Christian deities and devotions from immigrant communities, offering a more expansive spirituality for people of diverse backgrounds. This history presents an opportunity for Catholics to resist essentialist narratives and embrace the diversity (and “universality”) that has always existed within the Church. These representations of Mary reject racial absolutes and offer a theological framework for deconstructing rigid gender norms as well.

By recognizing that gender and racial essentialism are largely modern constructions, Catholics can begin to dismantle the harmful binaries that have been imposed onto the faith and instead foster a Church that embraces multiplicity and difference.

Breaking Free from Absolutes & Embracing a More Inclusive Catholicism

The rigid gender absolutes promoted in conservative Catholicism are not only restrictive but fundamentally out of step with the diverse and historically rich traditions of the Church. Gender essentialism, which assigns fixed roles based on anatomy, fails to account for the full spectrum of human identity and expression, instead reinforcing hierarchies that limit the flourishing of all people—especially men, who are pressured into performative hypermasculinity. As we have seen, these absolutes are deeply tied to fundamentalist, patriarchal power structures, which seek to control bodies and reinforce narrow definitions of gender.

Yet, history offers us alternatives. From the diverse depictions of Mary across cultures to the varied roles of gender in pre modern Christianity, Catholicism has never been as rigid as essentialists claim: we even have a tradition of queer saints!

Embracing a more expansive and historically informed vision of gender does not weaken the faith but strengthens it, allowing for a richer, more inclusive Catholicism that reflects the full breadth of human experience. The Church has long been a home for mystery, transformation, and spiritual depth—qualities that gender essentialism sadly attempts to flatten into binary absolutes.

By rejecting these constraints, we move towards a more just, compassionate, and truthful faith—one that recognizes the dignity of all people, regardless of where they fall within (or outside of) traditional gender categories. In doing so, we can create a Catholicism that does not demand conformity to oppressive norms but instead invites all into a fuller, freer relationship with God and one another.

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