Accepting Pride will not make anyone less Catholic. It will only expose how narrow some have allowed their understanding of Catholicism to become.
Almost a week after blocking the Pride Month activities proposed by the Holy Angel University – University Student Council (HAU-USC), the HAU Office of the President closed the door on further dialogue by dismissing the student body’s appeal.
A day later, a silent student protest opposing the administration’s response to these Pride initiatives faced surveillance and suppression, as security personnel dispersed protesters and intimidated student journalists covering the event.
All of these reveal a contradiction at the heart of the institution’s actions: HAU insists that there is no place for “Pride sensibilities” in a Catholic university while simultaneously professing a faith whose very foundation rests upon the inviolable dignity of every human person.
The tragedy of this controversy is not merely that Pride activities were rejected. It is that many have come to believe there are only two sides to choose from: faith or identity, Catholicism or inclusivity, doctrine or dialogue.
This is a false choice.
The administration’s refusal to approve four proposed Pride initiatives rests upon an impoverished assumption: that preserving Catholic identity requires denying recognition to LGBTQIA+ persons.
Yet the real educational, moral, and spiritual challenge of a Catholic university is not choosing one over the other. It is learning how to hold both realities in conversation.
Hence, the question has never been whether HAU should cease being Catholic. The question is whether it can live up to what Catholicism asks it to be — and what the community it claims to serve, form, and empower, needs it to become.
If it truly commits to being an institution where no one is left behind, then the conversation cannot end with a simple appeal to religious identity. It must also confront the lived realities of LGBTQIA+ students who find themselves welcomed to exist, but only on the condition that they keep a fundamental part of their identity out of sight.
This irony becomes clearer when examined alongside the last two academic year’s Inclusivity Walk, where stakeholders from different sectors — LGBTQIA+, indigenous groups, and students with special needs, among others — marched for one cause.
At first glance, it appeared to be a step forward. Yet, its approval came only after the initial Pride Walk proposal had been transformed into something more generic, palatable, and ultimately less threatening to institutional sensibilities.
This year, the HAU-USC refused to settle for a diluted substitute. It sought a slate of activities that acknowledged Pride for what it actually is, including lobbying for a Pride Walk that centered on the queer community.
The rejection that came following the shift from diluted inclusion to explicit recognition reveals how deeply Pride continues to be misunderstood within the discourse surrounding it.
Contrary to what many critics insist, Pride is not an attempt to undermine Catholicism, nor a campaign to recruit others into queerness. It is not an assault on religious belief.
Pride is a movement for gender equality — to ensure that those who have been historically pushed to the margins will have an equal footing. To advocate for a life that, at its core, asks only for the same dignity, rights, and opportunities afforded to everyone else. Not for higher standing. Not for special treatment.
For nothing is special in asking to be treated with basic human decency.
These are not values that stand in opposition to Catholic teaching. If anything, they align more closely with the Church’s professed commitment to human dignity.
Thus, the greater assailment on HAU’s character is not the proposal of Pride activities but the University’s rejection of it. After all, it is far more difficult to rationalize how denying visibility to a marginalized community honors the Catholic faith at all.
If we juxtapose against other institutions who share the same identity as a Catholic university but have, unlike HAU, supported Pride initiatives, the indifference becomes all the more apparent.
De La Salle University (DLSU), an internationally recognized Catholic institution operated by the Institute of the Brothers of the Christian Schools, has continuously supported student-led pride events. Under AnimoPride, this year’s activities include a Pride concert and Queer Talks with drag queens and other members of the community.
On June 5, DLSU held a Pride Walk and even lit up the facade of St. La Salle Hall with vibrant rainbow colors to symbolize the university’s commitment to fostering a “more inclusive community where everyone belongs.”
Further, as June rolled in, Ateneo de Manila University (ADMU) — an institution led by Jesuit priests — posted a solidarity statement in support of its LGBTQIA+ community and in celebration of Pride month.
Every October, ADMU holds its “One Big Pride” celebration, which begins with a Pride March and culminates in a series of events, including a concert featuring LGBTQIA+ artists and a Queer Expo that highlights and supports queer-owned businesses.
If top universities in the Philippines — led by Brothers and Jesuits — are able to push Pride advocacies without undermining their Catholic identity, then it becomes clear that the rejection of Pride initiatives is not the only path available to Catholic institutions. Inclusion and dialogue can coexist with faith, and choosing one does not require abandoning the other.
And so, this affirms that HAU’s rejection of Pride initiatives reflects an institutional choice rather than a religious necessity.
The issue does not remain an internal institutional stance as it becomes visible in how the wider community interprets and responds to it.
Comment sections beneath posts discussing the controversy quickly filled with celebrations of the administration’s decision alongside dismissive and openly hostile remarks toward LGBTQIA+ concerns, revealing how quickly the false dichotomy of “Catholicism versus Pride” has taken root within the community.
What emerges from much of this discourse is a remarkably narrowed vision of Catholicism — and an equally diminished vision of Christ. This framing reduces the Gospel’s radical call to love, accompaniment, and human dignity into a tool for determining who belongs and who does not.
How fragile must one’s faith be if making room for others feels like a threat?
Much of the resistance to LGBTQIA+ recognition rests upon rigid interpretations of tradition, developed within historical contexts that are vastly different from now. They emerged long before contemporary understandings of identity, discrimination, and human rights.
Even the late Pope Francis repeatedly challenged Catholics to embrace accompaniment over exclusion. The highest office of the Church has recognized that faith remains meaningful only when it is capable of engaging with the realities of the present.
His now-famous response, “Who am I to judge?” did not alter doctrine. What it did was emphasize humility over condemnation and encounter over distance.
In Amoris Laetitia, he urged Catholics to accompany people with patience and understanding rather than reducing them to categories. In Fratelli Tutti, he called for a culture of encounter rooted in the recognition of every person’s dignity and opposed to social exclusion.
While Fiducia Supplicans still retains traditional doctrines on marriage, Pope Francis approved this declaration to guide priests on blessing same-sex couples — not under the guise of a marital union — for who they are as God’s children.
If extending a free space for queer students is enough to shake one’s understanding of Catholicism, then perhaps Pride is exposing a crisis of imagination among those who cannot conceive a faith expansive enough to love their neighbor as they love themselves.
The issue before HAU is no longer merely whether the proposed Pride activities should have been approved. It is whether the University can fully live out the Gospel values it professes.
And it should begin with the willingness to engage in an honest dialogue with the very students it claims to serve.
A Catholic institution should not fear difficult conversations, nor should it equate visibility with defiance.
Rather than choosing to avoid confronting the issue, the administration must be transparent about the kind of community it seeks to cultivate.
If the Catholic principles HAU upholds are to mean anything, they must extend to those who have long been pushed in the margins — without selectivity or exception.





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