The following was Republished from Datura’s Substack.
My whole life, I’ve felt resistance and even mockery toward the faith I was born into. I strayed from it, dismissed it, right around the time Nicki Minaj’s “Monster” came out. Do you remember? I do. All around town… college campuses everywhere chanting in unison: “first things first I’ll eat your brains.” It felt like a tribal mind-virus presented as a catchy beat, normalizing the grotesque in a creative way. A kind of social cannibalism hidden under the guise of a catchy song that consumes its listeners. It ushered in a new era.
This was around the time Kanye West and Jay-Z released tracks like No Church in the Wild, songs that were wildly popular and seemed to be playing everywhere, from parties to stores to every playlist. Lyrics like, “What’s a king without a crown? What’s a king without a queen? What’s a king without a throne? What’s a king without a wife? Is there such thing as monogamy?” captured that moment. In the same track, the lines “No apologies” and “Love is cursed by monogamy” stood out and became cultural talking points. Around the same era, songs like Who Will Survive in America (2010) and others frequently referenced themes of the New World Order, the Illuminati, and similar ideas.
The truth is, these rappers became role models, and while their talent cannot be denied, the messages they preach have essentially become a new religion for their listeners. Even today, you can see so many people hopelessly addicted to these celebrities. It’s kind of pathetic, like they have nothing else in their soul but the words of someone else to fill it. This isn’t unique to rap; it’s the same with any band or musician, of any kind. They may be talented and even great, but when you’re exposed to them over and over on a massive scale, it crosses a line. It’s no longer just a fun song you can compartmentalize. It replaces, it encodes, it becomes internalized. And these aren’t gods. They’re mere mortal men with all the same flaws as anyone else, yet they often behave as if they aren’t.
Sadly, there’s a reason that REM song is so popular, you know the one, overplayed in every coming-of-age movie or story: “That’s me in the corner, losing my religion.” When I was at W&M, the polished exterior of the institution hid a stark reality. Once I was there, few resources existed for the questions or struggles I faced. Many experiences on that campus mirrored broader societal trends, where observations or complaints from someone like me were often dismissed or ignored outright. I just didn’t have the courage to leave because, at that moment in history, everyone taught you from ninth grade and up that if you didn’t get your degree, you would be an abject failure, never get a job, and your life would basically become a sh*tshow.
On a deep level, I wasn’t emotionally prepared at 18 to live in a dorm, navigate so much freedom, and pursue an education all at once. I had picked up unhealthy habits during the stressful years following the 2008 financial crisis, a crisis fueled by Wall Street greed that affected so many in my age group. Then I arrived on campus and, within the first week, encountered scenes I had never seen before, a kind of partying that was on a completely different level. Rural life had its own challenges, but there, I found myself subconsciously drawn toward situations and people that were exactly the wrong place for me to be.
I’m talking gross frat houses filled with entitled men who said the most vile, disgusting things about women while acting like little kings, reminiscent of Joffrey in Game of Thrones. A part of me went numb in that environment, precisely because of the way these people behaved when they weren’t buried deep in the next rung of the social ladder they were desperate to climb. And the sad thing is, W&M is by no means the worst of the worst, they look like a convent compared to some.
I’m not a staunch Catholic today. To pretend otherwise would be a lie, but the teachings my grandmother, my Irish Nonna, instilled in me never left. Day by day, I remember and return. One of my favorite catechism classes was when she asked us to draw a picture of our soul. I miss her, and the quiet guidance she gave.
People often see Catholicism as oppressive, tied to trauma, headlines, or rumors of corruption. Many people find Catholicism oppressive and cite religious trauma. They hear the word “Vatican” and roll their eyes. They see only the rules, the somberness. They are meant to protect you. They see the New York Post headlines. They hear the rumors of Satanism and bring up the Vatican, the Inquisition, and so on. But as I’ve stressed in other posts months ago, people often forget the simple truths.
This Church carries great mysteries. It is one of the earliest churches, it has ancient power. But what they overlook are the quiet examples from humble people, the beauty of an ancient tradition, the intellectual depth, the mysteries. Preserved over centuries.
Like any institution that has existed for thousands of years and held real power, periods of darkness are inevitable. That is the nature of humanity; once people gain control of something, they almost can’t help but tarnish it. Yet what is broken in one era can be repaired in the next…that is the essence of forgiveness.
Every major religion, including Buddhism and Hinduism, has its own scandals and failings, many of which are not widely reported in the West. Yet these faiths still have millions of devoted believers. To me, this underscores a deeper truth: while all religions face criticism, the Catholic faith in particular seems to have been targeted disproportionately.
So many go to a parish that feels off, then give up entirely. They forget that God’s teachings are ultimately through God Himself. That is how I interpret it. I’ve found that within Catholicism, when you dig deeper into real intellectual analysis of the questions people raise, an answer exists.
I don’t see myself as becoming a devout Catholic, mainly because there are literal demons from my past that block me from going to town every week. But I do feel hope when I see young women like this author come forward and just state the obvious. When she says she’s “unwoke,” she isn’t saying “I don’t care about poor people or the struggles of other races and I want to erase them.” What she means is that she has found a happy union in her life, one that can pave the way to one of the strongest defense systems on earth when it’s done correctly: a real family.
She found this by rejecting the culture that tells women to sleep with as many men as possible, to market themselves online, to turn to OnlyFans because jobs are scarce unless you’re credentialed, connected, or trendy. She found that by letting go of the culture around us, you can find the message that brings your soul back to life. She speaks openly about her past addiction and how she overcame it, one centered on drinking. She admits that her expectations of people created unhappiness, no doubt fueled by a culture built on celebrity worship.
I still have my reservations about the way some Catholic sacraments are worded, like transubstantiation. It can be off-putting. But the purpose of sharing this isn’t to convert anyone to Catholicism. It’s to show the importance of respecting other people’s religions and choices. Perhaps it’s because it has been more than ten years since anyone I truly trusted, someone with real knowledge like my grandmother, explained it to me. Sadly, she lost her mind not long after her husband of over sixty years passed away.
I have found that while I was expected to be very tolerant of new age ideals that came into focus as I matured, others freely denigrated the very foundation of my culture. That to me is not okay. Why is tolerance so selective? That targeted denigration was no coincidence. We see it through organic and inorganic means, in how the very idea of attending any church, let alone a Christian one, now often requires armed guards in order to continue because people fear for their own safety when they choose to attend Mass. It’s no coincidence. Choosing to worship has become a dangerous act. That reality alone should give people pause.
I am inspired by this woman’s bravery in sharing her perspective. Another point I want to make is that for some, spirituality alone is enough. When push comes to shove, saying “oh I’m just a spiritual person” feels like a cop-out. It comes off flaky. When your values are so amorphous and easily swayed, it is much easier to topple the house of cards of your mind, body, and spirit. What do you really stand for? A hate has no home here yard sign? What do your beliefs really mean when tested? When no one is looking? Do you actually practice what you preach. Are your current beliefs simply a result of rampant exposure to modern day media.
That is what happened to me. I went to a liberal arts college where I quickly learned that centering your identity on religion was not “cool.” So I passively rejected it, and the results were disastrous in the long run. I took History of Ancient Israel courses that, while fascinating, picked away at the Bible’s credibility. This was never done with malicious intent; it was purely for academic purposes. The school was not religious, and I knew that, yet subconsciously I held back from fully applying myself. I felt that by engaging with these teachings, I was somehow complicit in rejecting everything I had been taught my entire life. At the same time, doing so seemed to signal enlightenment, spiritual growth, intellectual strength, and the ultimate liberation from the chains of historic tyranny and religious oppression. I took women’s studies classes that, while enlightening and even making me more tolerant of things like veils—I even wrote a 24-page research paper on hijabs and niqabs—still carried the message that women should pursue sexual liberation, that sleeping around was a sign of freedom, that gender was merely a construct. Maybe not those words exactly, but that was the elevator pitch message, and the people who pushed for that lifestyle were framed as icons.
I’m grateful for the progress women have made, people like RBG who fought so women could own property or use a credit card. But balance matters. We need the grounding frameworks that religion offers just as much as the freedoms won by past generations. Without that balance, society is left adrift. Look at the broken ties, the lost sense of purpose, the obsession with novelty. The mindless distractions. The celebration of violence and destruction. The caustic mockery. The acquiescence to whatever feels dominant in the here and now. People seek belonging in whatever is reflected around them. Look at how many relationships fail. Look at how lost society feels. How easily people splinter, ghost and cave. How desperate they are to adopt any semblance of tradition and call it their own. People forget so easily. I’m not saying the answer is to turn back to the year 1500, but I do believe one of the Achilles’ heels of today’s generation is its eagerness to dismiss anything that isn’t new or trendy. I write this in honor of rediscovering what has always been there. If you stand for nothing, you will fall for anything.
CJ Sheppard is a writer, photographer, and artist living on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.
About the Author
“Sadly, there’s a reason that REM song is so popular, you know the one, overplayed in every coming-of-age movie or story: “That’s me in the corner, losing my religion.” I pray that you don’t believe the meaning behind that phrase, or song, has anything to do with religion.