I am a human bundle of contradictions: stern and soft, brave and vulnerable, terrifying and encouraging in just about equal measure. An intersectional feminist with interests in religion, diaspora, migration, disability and social change, I’m also the parent of an utterly adorable ex-racing greyhound, a voracious nonfiction reader, and someone who is known for speaking their mind. This is the story of how my intersectional orientations developed—and how I came to develop my own form of ‘intersectionality as critical praxis [that] requires using the knowledge gained through practice to guide … everyday life’.^[1] It’s also the story of my attachment to the Virgin Mary: to me, she is precious. I collect Marys as reminders that I am part of a gender that perseveres in all kinds of circumstances.

My first encounter with the Blessed Virgin occurred at the same age as my first encounter with a vibrator—but unlike my mysterious discovery of a sex toy in St Anne’s Park, my visit to St Gabriel’s Church was precious, completely intelligible and not at all ‘dirty’ or secret.