Growing Up Transgender in the Roman Catholic Church: A Memoir by Patricia Hailes is not a story of sudden revelation or youthful rebellion, but of a life lived largely in silence, shaped by devotion, fear, resilience, and ultimately, courage found late in life. Patricia’s memoir unfolds as both a personal reckoning and a broader reflection on what it means to exist as a transgender person within a religious framework that has historically offered little space for such identities.
For much of her life, Patricia lived hidden, not only from the world, but from herself. Raised in a Roman Catholic environment that offered rigid ideas about gender, morality, and the body, she learned early that survival depended on suppression. Faith and family were central to her upbringing, yet they were also sources of profound internal conflict. From childhood, Patricia felt a deep and persistent awareness of herself as female, an awareness that clashed sharply with the expectations placed upon her. Rather than being affirmed, these feelings became something to bury, to pray away, to endure.
Born in 1942 and raised on a farm in Whenuapai, west Auckland, Patricia’s early years were defined by both rural simplicity and emotional isolation. Even as a young child, she experienced moments of clarity that felt dangerous in a world that could not name or accept them. Dressing in women’s clothes brought her comfort and relief, yet it also filled her with fear. The secrecy that followed became a defining feature of her life. She learned how to live two lives at once, carefully managing appearances while quietly holding onto fragments of her true self. Dresses were hidden under tractor seats, bras worn beneath work clothes, brief moments of authenticity stolen whenever no one was watching.
Catholic doctrine shaped not only how Patricia understood morality, but how she understood herself. Teachings about sin, shame, and the body compounded her distress, leaving her feeling broken and alone. She prayed to God to make her a girl, believing that faith might somehow resolve what she could not. When those prayers went unanswered, despair took root. As a child, she attempted suicide, an experience that cast a long shadow over her life. Suicidal thoughts and attempts would resurface again and again, a testament to how deeply the burden of secrecy and self-denial weighed on her.
Adulthood did not bring relief. Patricia built a life outwardly defined by responsibility and success. She ran an advertising business, married, and became a parent to four children. Yet even within these roles, the conflict persisted. She dressed as a woman in private moments, changing clothes in cars before business meetings, holding onto the only version of herself that felt real. Marriage, she hoped, might quiet her feelings, that fulfilling expected roles would somehow make her whole. Instead, it only intensified the sense of living a life that was not her own.
The turning point came not through crisis alone, but through time. Approaching her eighties, Patricia confronted the reality of her mortality. Faced with the prospect of dying without ever truly living, she made a decision that would redefine the rest of her life. She shaved off her beard, put on a dress, and felt, perhaps for the first time, at home in herself. The simplicity of that moment underscores one of the memoir’s central truths: authenticity does not require spectacle, only honesty.
Coming out to her children was another profound step. Their response, largely accepting though cautious, reflected both generational shifts and lingering discomfort. Still, Patricia knew that partial acceptance was no longer enough. She had spent too long shrinking herself to fit into spaces that could not hold her fully. Taking to the streets in one of her colourful dresses, she claimed visibility not only for herself, but for others who had lived in silence for too long.
Her return to church as Patricia is particularly striking. The Roman Catholic Church, a source of so much internal conflict throughout her life, became a place she re-entered openly, prepared for rejection but met instead with something closer to quiet tolerance. It was not a full reconciliation, but it was enough. For Patricia, this was not about winning approval, but about no longer living in fear. She found that the world did not end when she stopped hiding.
Throughout the memoir, there is no bitterness, only honesty. Patricia does not present herself as a symbol or a spokesperson, but as an ordinary woman who survived extraordinary internal struggle. She speaks openly about suicide, about conversion therapy, about being told that who she was could be fixed or erased. Yet the book is not defined by despair. It is defined by gentleness, by humour, by a deep longing for peace.
Now in her eighties, Patricia describes herself simply as an old lady who wants to relax. This modest wish carries enormous weight. It represents a lifetime of deferral finally coming to an end. Her joy is not loud or triumphant, but calm and grounded. She understands that not everyone is pleased with her choices, but she no longer measures her worth by others’ comfort. Loving herself, she believes, is not selfish, but necessary.
Growing Up Transgender in the Roman Catholic Church is ultimately a story about time, about what it costs to deny oneself for decades, and about the quiet bravery it takes to choose authenticity when there is little time left. Patricia Hailes’ memoir reminds readers that it is never too late to become who you are, and that even after a lifetime of hiding, joy remains possible.
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