Growing up attending Catholic school in Colombia, Esteban Morales Herrera (CLAS ’24) was bullied for his queerness as young as 11 years old. Later, at his Catholic undergraduate university, there was only a single transgender professor, whose position was a matter of controversy.
“I came from a country where the Catholic Church—we are mostly Catholics in Colombia—the Catholic Church tends to be a little bit conservative,” Morales Herrera said.
But coming to Georgetown, Morales Herrera has felt as if he is “witnessing years of the future” in the community’s support and inclusion of queer identities at a Catholic university. He sang in the Contemporary Choir for two years and has attended the annual Mass of Belonging, which emphasizes queer belonging within the Catholic Church with participation from senior leadership at Georgetown, according to Morales Herrera.
“They are deeply and genuinely committed to the opportunity of offering not only welcoming spaces, but a real environment of respect—respect, sensitivity, and compassion,” Morales Herrera said of Georgetown’s leadership. “The evidence of a welcoming spirit from the institution of Georgetown is not idealistic. It’s real.”
“At Georgetown, we are deeply proud of our religious tradition and recognize the inherent human dignity of every member of our community,” a university spokesperson wrote.
But Georgetown has not always been a place of belonging for queer students. It has taken brave advocacy from students, faith leaders, and administrators across generations to create the Georgetown where Morales Herrera feels safe and welcomed.
In the 1970s, Georgetown refused official recognition to “Gay People of Georgetown” (GPGU), the organization that would later become GU Pride.
“The University rejected GPGU’s request for University recognition on the grounds that the group presented a homosexual lifestyle as morally acceptable,” then-President Timothy S. Healy, S.J. wrote in a letter to faculty and alumni. “The University stated that norms governing sexual conduct were objective, and that Catholicism does not teach a sexual ethic based merely on personal preference.”
Only after an expensive, eight-year-long, student-driven lawsuit was Georgetown required by law to grant GPGU equal access to university benefits, though the university still refused to officially recognize the group. Queer advocates on campus note that the university’s failure to fund and recognize GPGU is far from the only time Georgetown has failed its queer community.
In 2007, before the LGBTQ Resource Center existed, a Georgetown student violently attacked a queer student in a homophobic hate crime, and the university did not publicly address it until weeks later after it was reported in the Washington Blade. In response, students launched the “Out for Change” campaign, pushing for education on queer issues, as well as the hiring of full-time staff members dedicated to supporting queer students. DeGioia held a town hall meeting addressing the movement’s demands, where he announced plans to create a fully-staffed LGBTQ Resource Center—one of the first of its kind at any Catholic university.
“At the heart of the Catholic tradition, we find resources that profoundly support our work for LGBTQ students,” DeGioia said at the town hall. “I am referring, for example, to the Catholic insistence on the dignity and worth of each and every individual, the emphasis on social justice and multicultural understanding, and the Gospel call that we engage all of our sisters and brothers in a spirit of love.”
This moment—announcing a faith-based, concrete commitment to supporting queer students—was the visible beginning of a process of reflection, as Georgetown considered on how it could truly live out its values, driven not by tradition or ideology but by empathy, listening, and action. With the LGBTQ Resource Center’s founding, Georgetown began to recognize how faith could guide it to becoming a place of belonging for queer students, work that continues through to today.
“Looking at the signs of the times through the light of our faiths, right? This is not a simple easy task,” Rev. Greg Schenden, S.J., current director of Campus Ministry, said.
And when Georgetown hasn’t seen the needs of the queer community, queer students have pushed Georgetown to reflect and grow through the GPGU lawsuit, the Out for Change Campaign, and last year’s campaign for gender-inclusive housing.
“I think one of the gifts of being involved in higher education is our students also call us and say, ‘Have you thought about this?’” Schenden said.
Over the years, some leaders in Campus Ministry and administration have uplifted queer students’ voices and needs.
Rev. Howard Gray, S.J., arrived at Georgetown as the special assistant to the president in 2007, amid the turmoil of homophobic hate crimes and student campaigning. He remained at Georgetown until his sudden passing in 2018. Both Schenden and Shiva Subbaraman—the founding director of the LGBTQ Resource Center—called Gray the “Yoda of the Jesuits,” describing him as a compassionate and brave voice calling for faith-based justice, especially for queer students. They highlighted Gray’s role in early discussions about the need for the LGBTQ Resource Center.
“Without Father Gray, my work could not have been imagined,” Subbaraman said. “It’s one thing for me to come in and advocate for our community and on behalf of our community, and another for someone in his role as one of the leading voices in the Jesuit world to come in and say, ‘We should do this.’”
Gray and many others over the last five decades have dedicated their work to changing Georgetown for the better and to discerning how Georgetown’s Jesuit values call upon us to affirm the dignity of queer students. Students, faith leaders, and administrators have pushed not only the 200-year-old institution of Georgetown but also the 2,000-year-old institution of Catholicism to change and grow—to become a place where Morales Herrera feels a sense of belonging.
But Schenden emphasized that Georgetown must question how it may still be harming its queer students, even unintentionally.
“How are we going to look back 10 years from now, 40 years from now, 100 years from now?” he asked.
Queer students, especially transgender and nonbinary students, face unresolved barriers to safety and inclusivity at Georgetown. There are few gender-neutral restrooms across campus, gender-inclusive housing is yet to be offered to the entire student body, and the university does not offer gender-affirming healthcare.
As Georgetown continues to fall short of fully meeting queer students’ needs, we can look to our history for a degree of clarity and hope. Georgetown’s immense growth over the past half-century is deeply rooted in both faith and relentless advocacy.
“I always say, ‘People are policy,’” Subbaraman said. “You can have all the policies you want, but in the end, it’s the people who make the difference.”
News Commentary
Growth through faith: A half-century of voices for queer belonging at Georgetown
By Liam Emery Moynihan
10:00 AM
Growing up attending Catholic school in Colombia, Esteban Morales Herrera (CLAS ’24) was bullied for his queerness as young as 11 years old. Later, at his Catholic undergraduate university, there was only a single transgender professor, whose position was a matter of controversy.
“I came from a country where the Catholic Church—we are mostly Catholics in Colombia—the Catholic Church tends to be a little bit conservative,” Morales Herrera said.
But coming to Georgetown, Morales Herrera has felt as if he is “witnessing years of the future” in the community’s support and inclusion of queer identities at a Catholic university. He sang in the Contemporary Choir for two years and has attended the annual Mass of Belonging, which emphasizes queer belonging within the Catholic Church with participation from senior leadership at Georgetown, according to Morales Herrera.
“They are deeply and genuinely committed to the opportunity of offering not only welcoming spaces, but a real environment of respect—respect, sensitivity, and compassion,” Morales Herrera said of Georgetown’s leadership. “The evidence of a welcoming spirit from the institution of Georgetown is not idealistic. It’s real.”
“At Georgetown, we are deeply proud of our religious tradition and recognize the inherent human dignity of every member of our community,” a university spokesperson wrote.
But Georgetown has not always been a place of belonging for queer students. It has taken brave advocacy from students, faith leaders, and administrators across generations to create the Georgetown where Morales Herrera feels safe and welcomed.
In the 1970s, Georgetown refused official recognition to “Gay People of Georgetown” (GPGU), the organization that would later become GU Pride.
“The University rejected GPGU’s request for University recognition on the grounds that the group presented a homosexual lifestyle as morally acceptable,” then-President Timothy S. Healy, S.J. wrote in a letter to faculty and alumni. “The University stated that norms governing sexual conduct were objective, and that Catholicism does not teach a sexual ethic based merely on personal preference.”
Only after an expensive, eight-year-long, student-driven lawsuit was Georgetown required by law to grant GPGU equal access to university benefits, though the university still refused to officially recognize the group. Queer advocates on campus note that the university’s failure to fund and recognize GPGU is far from the only time Georgetown has failed its queer community.
In 2007, before the LGBTQ Resource Center existed, a Georgetown student violently attacked a queer student in a homophobic hate crime, and the university did not publicly address it until weeks later after it was reported in the Washington Blade. In response, students launched the “Out for Change” campaign, pushing for education on queer issues, as well as the hiring of full-time staff members dedicated to supporting queer students. DeGioia held a town hall meeting addressing the movement’s demands, where he announced plans to create a fully-staffed LGBTQ Resource Center—one of the first of its kind at any Catholic university.
“At the heart of the Catholic tradition, we find resources that profoundly support our work for LGBTQ students,” DeGioia said at the town hall. “I am referring, for example, to the Catholic insistence on the dignity and worth of each and every individual, the emphasis on social justice and multicultural understanding, and the Gospel call that we engage all of our sisters and brothers in a spirit of love.”
This moment—announcing a faith-based, concrete commitment to supporting queer students—was the visible beginning of a process of reflection, as Georgetown considered on how it could truly live out its values, driven not by tradition or ideology but by empathy, listening, and action. With the LGBTQ Resource Center’s founding, Georgetown began to recognize how faith could guide it to becoming a place of belonging for queer students, work that continues through to today.
“Looking at the signs of the times through the light of our faiths, right? This is not a simple easy task,” Rev. Greg Schenden, S.J., current director of Campus Ministry, said.
And when Georgetown hasn’t seen the needs of the queer community, queer students have pushed Georgetown to reflect and grow through the GPGU lawsuit, the Out for Change Campaign, and last year’s campaign for gender-inclusive housing.
“I think one of the gifts of being involved in higher education is our students also call us and say, ‘Have you thought about this?’” Schenden said.
Over the years, some leaders in Campus Ministry and administration have uplifted queer students’ voices and needs.
Rev. Howard Gray, S.J., arrived at Georgetown as the special assistant to the president in 2007, amid the turmoil of homophobic hate crimes and student campaigning. He remained at Georgetown until his sudden passing in 2018. Both Schenden and Shiva Subbaraman—the founding director of the LGBTQ Resource Center—called Gray the “Yoda of the Jesuits,” describing him as a compassionate and brave voice calling for faith-based justice, especially for queer students. They highlighted Gray’s role in early discussions about the need for the LGBTQ Resource Center.
“Without Father Gray, my work could not have been imagined,” Subbaraman said. “It’s one thing for me to come in and advocate for our community and on behalf of our community, and another for someone in his role as one of the leading voices in the Jesuit world to come in and say, ‘We should do this.’”
Gray and many others over the last five decades have dedicated their work to changing Georgetown for the better and to discerning how Georgetown’s Jesuit values call upon us to affirm the dignity of queer students. Students, faith leaders, and administrators have pushed not only the 200-year-old institution of Georgetown but also the 2,000-year-old institution of Catholicism to change and grow—to become a place where Morales Herrera feels a sense of belonging.
But Schenden emphasized that Georgetown must question how it may still be harming its queer students, even unintentionally.
“How are we going to look back 10 years from now, 40 years from now, 100 years from now?” he asked.
Queer students, especially transgender and nonbinary students, face unresolved barriers to safety and inclusivity at Georgetown. There are few gender-neutral restrooms across campus, gender-inclusive housing is yet to be offered to the entire student body, and the university does not offer gender-affirming healthcare.
As Georgetown continues to fall short of fully meeting queer students’ needs, we can look to our history for a degree of clarity and hope. Georgetown’s immense growth over the past half-century is deeply rooted in both faith and relentless advocacy.
“I always say, ‘People are policy,’” Subbaraman said. “You can have all the policies you want, but in the end, it’s the people who make the difference.”
Liam Emery Moynihan
More: Catholicism, Faith, Jesuit values, Queerness, Religion
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