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Queer pop star Chappell Roan is having such an incredible, breakout year, we might have to start calling her debut album The Rise And Fall Rise Of A Midwest Princess.

The Missouri-born singer-songwriter effectively launched her career back in 2020 with “Pink Pony Club”—a sparkling tribute to the gay bars of West Hollywood—and has gradually built a cult following ever since, especially among the LGBTQ+ community.

And while her aforementioned debut album was critically acclaimed when it was released last fall, it wasn’t until this summer that Roan’s career absolutely exploded thanks to buzzy festival sets, viral clips, late-night TV performances, and opening slot on Olivia Rodrigo’ latest tour.

However, the flip-side of Roan’s sky-rocket to fame is that, suddenly, everybody has something to say about her, and it’s been fascinating to witness—from folks criticizing her declined invite to perform at the White House to those questioning the influence of drag on her aesthetic.

So, yes, we certainly raised an eyebrow when we heard a priest had written an op-ed about Chappell Roan for Catholic newsmagazine America, labeling her the “R-rated Taylor Swift.” Was this about to be another conservative screed, outraged that the artist of the moment is exposing young listeners to queer themes, raunchy lyrics, and *gasp* campy costumes?

Actually, Father Damian J. Ference—priest for the Diocese of Cleveland, OH—has an open mind when it comes to Roan (who he calls a “top-tier entertainer”) and what her music means to millions and millions of fans. And it’s a pretty delightful, worthwhile read!

A Midwesterner himself, Ference says younger friends had been suggesting he listen to her album, and even convinced him to buy a ticket for her show when the Midwest Princess Tour stopped by his hometown. Not only does he call the performance “legendary,” but he notes the infectious, communal spirit of thousands of fans gathering and singing along.

He basically stops just-short of calling it a religious experience:

“Humans are made to be with other humans,” Ference writes, “and, for the most part, we do enjoy each other’s company, especially when intentionally gathered for a shared experience. A concert is certainly not liturgy, but it is important to note the natural desires that emerge in men and women at such events.”

Noting that he’s “interested in Chappell Roan because the culture has interest in her,” the priest works to unpack her mythos with a Catholic audience in mind, and manages to do so in a wonderfully thoughtful, judgment-free way.

Ference takes some time to clarify that Chappell Roan is really just a stage name—and persona—for 26-year-old musician Kayleigh Rose Amstutz. As he notes, the moniker is a nod to her late grandfather, Dennis C. Chappell, whose favorite song was always Marty Robbins’ “The Strawberry Roan,” about a bronc rider taming a wild horse. (Does that make her hit single “Pink Pony Club” a tribute to grandpa, too?)

The priest connects the dots between the nearly 100-year-old song’s titular horse and Roan herself, praising them both as “outlaw” figures, of sorts, who we admire for their “tenacity and courage and grit.” He can understand why so many might see themselves in her outsized stage presence—even if he doesn’t agree with all of her methods.

In one of the piece’s funnier passages, Ference touches on the standout ballad, “Casual,” remarking he was moved by the music… until he got to the chorus, which as you may recall goes, “Knee deep in the passenger seat / And you’re eating me out? / Is It casual now?”

He remarks he was “taken aback by the graphic action,” but uses it to illustrate a point that Roan is merely singing about imagined experiences and leaning into her beguiling character, which only makes her music that much more appealing.

“Maybe it’s this elusive nature of her music that makes it attractive, because it is certainly not the moral messaging,” Ference deadpans.

Roan has openly discussed the “religious trauma” from her conservative Christian upbringing, which leaves the priest wondering if there’s such a thing as “secular trauma” that one can experience from the culture at large. He then brings up an instance at a concert earlier this summer, when the performer got emotional and told her audience, “I think that my career is going really fast and it’s really hard to keep up.”

In closing, Ference writes: “I’ve already added Kayleigh Rose Amstutz to my list of artists to pray for at the end of my daily rosary. How about you?”

Often times, when men and women of the cloth are “praying for” members if our community, we hear it condescendingly—they’re just praying that God will “forgive our sinful, queer ways and save our souls.” But it genuinely feels like Ference is moved by the way Roan has connected with others, and just wants to pray she’s able to ride this wild wave of fame happily and healthily.

It’s a simple yet sweet message, and an ultimately moving one to read—especially amid a wave of conservative Christians going berserk over visible queer inclusion in the 2024 Paris Olympics opening ceremony.

Christianity and queerness (or at least LGBTQ+ allyship) don’t have to be mutually exclusive, so we’re just glad to see priests like Ference preaching messages of love and acceptance, while also singing the praises of one of the biggest queer pop stars of the moment.

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