#581 ·
My daughter was targeted by systemic bullying and brutal insults at school—kids actually called her Satan just because she didn't go to church. Now, watching this new administration in D.C. get their "blessing" through prayers and holy water before they start rolling out their new cabinet ministers... honestly, it makes me sick. As a mother, I feel this wave of nausea and genuine fear. I can't help but wonder if we're heading back to those dark, ignorant days. With the church stepping back into the spotlight like this, am I going to see more kids getting humiliated and tortured just because they don't fit a religious mold? It feels like that old-school intolerance is making a comeback.
Judging by what people are saying on social media, this Chicago intellectual isn't alone in her fear. A ton of other parents feel the exact same way—watching their kids deal with nothing but pure contempt and bullying from classmates just because they don't show up to Sunday school or church.
People probably jumped to conclusions about her after just reading a few lines—labeling her some kind of old-school radical, a nostalgic dreamer, or even a Mexican woman. But honestly? They couldn’t be more wrong about Davorka Semenić. She grew up in a devout Catholic household, took religion classes, and had a traditional church wedding, but at the end of the day, she’s an intellectual through and through. She’s a true cosmopolitan who actually cares about the big picture. That’s exactly how she chose to raise her daughter, too, though it turns out that kind of parenting comes with a massive price tag here in America.
I grew up Catholic, plain and simple. I’ve been in Sunday school since I was five years old, and back in the seventies, I was part of that first little group of kids doing First Communion at our local parish in the suburbs of Chicago. It was a tiny crowd—just four girls from my class heading to class once a week. School wasn't really an issue, but I do remember this one awkward moment that stuck with me. I was in second grade when my teacher called me up to the chalkboard in front of everyone. She pointed out that I went to church and then asked me to write down the names of all the other kids in class who attended too. I felt the heat immediately; I could see a few kids in the room giving me these judgmental, mocking looks. My parents, though, weren't having any of it. They stepped in, and the teacher actually ended up apologizing and backing off. Honestly, it didn't mess with my grades or how she treated me after that. I never dealt with any more bullying for being religious after that incident. Back then, it just wasn't a topic of conversation—it was private. And honestly, that's how it should be today. Whatever faith someone chooses is their own business, period.
And then the '90s hit... everything changed.
My boyfriend was just some college kid back then—total casual vibe, jeans and sneakers—when he got drafted to go fight in the war. He’s American through and through, but he wasn't religious, and his family didn't exactly grow up in the pews. Still, he always figured it would be fine for us to have a church wedding. Now, I know there are ways for Catholics to marry someone from a different faith, but since he didn't belong to any denomination at all, things got incredibly messy. The Church insisted he get baptized first. To pull that off, they made him commit to six months of religious education classes. Can you believe that? We were right in the middle of a war, and the guy didn't even know if he’d make it back alive from the front lines, yet here we were dealing with this nonsense. That was the moment I really felt let down by the Church, so we decided to just go ahead with a civil ceremony back in '91. Eventually, we managed to pull the necessary permits from the local Archdiocese to allow a mixed marriage, and in '94, we finally had our wedding in a small chapel outside of San Diego with my old teacher officiating. Even after that, dealing with the massive, slow-moving religious bureaucracy was a nightmare—it kept tripping us up even when we were welcoming our daughter into the world.
When we went to get our daughter baptized at that same old Catholic church I used to attend for Sunday school as a kid, things got weird fast. The priest was filling out the paperwork and wrote down that her father was an American, and then he just assumed—like it was some automatic rule—that he had to be listed as Catholic too. I told him straight up, "No, that’s not right," and we ended up getting into this heated argument. He actually had the nerve to snap at me, asking how we even managed to get married in a church in the first place if we weren't following their rules. In the end, we just walked out and took our daughter to a different church to get it done.
They literally followed her all the way from school to her front door just screaming "Satan!" at the top of their lungs.
Everything was fine back when my daughter was in preschool, until we got back from our summer vacation and I walked in to find this massive crucifix staring me down from the wall—I'm talking floor-to-ceiling. Look, I’m a believer, but I can't stand it when people force their faith on everyone else like that. It’s totally disrespectful to ignore the fact that you’ve got atheists, agnostics, and kids from all sorts of different religious backgrounds in one classroom. Even as a Catholic, I feel strongly that religious symbols have no business being in schools, daycares, or any kind of public institution. Fast forward to when my kid started elementary school, and the teacher's very first move on day one was pulling all the parents aside to ask who wanted their kid opted out of religion class.
"We live in this quiet American suburb where everyone—except my husband—has always been religious. It turned out our daughter was the only one who didn't want to take religion classes, so we just went along with it at school so she wouldn't feel left out. But once she hit third grade and they started prepping kids for First Communion, suddenly the school lessons weren't enough. The church demanded she attend extra classes and Sunday Mass along with us parents. We weren't okay with being forced into that kind of thing, so we stepped away from the religion classes, the communion, and the services entirely," says the mother of a girl whose life basically flipped upside down after that decision. The fallout started with her teacher, and then, as usual, the other kids in class followed suit.
"The teacher was clearly stunned that we wouldn't bow down to every single demand from the church. She’d make these snide little comments here and there, which we didn't think was a huge deal—until the other kids started freezing her out. It's about a twenty-minute walk from school to our house, and her former friends would literally follow her the whole way just to yell 'Satan!' at her," recalls the woman from Chicago.
When asked if she and her husband stood up to those blatant provocations against their child, she admits—no, unfortunately they didn't. They had no idea what she was going through because she kept quiet, terrified that speaking up would just make everything even more complicated.
"What did you expect, having a non-believer in the house?"
"She didn't tell me the full extent of the bullying and the insults she dealt with daily until sixth grade. Back then, they were learning about the Crusades in class, and the teacher insisted Muslims were to blame for everything. My kid, visibly upset, actually asked, 'Well, what about the Inquisition?' The other kids just stared at her blankly because they'd never even heard the word, and the teacher just shut her down, saying it wasn't the time or place for such a debate. Once she finally opened up to me, I asked several kids in her class what they were actually being taught that made them so cruel to one another. They just stayed silent, unable to answer. But at a parent-teacher meeting, the mom of one kid straight-up asked me, with zero manners, what I expected when I have a non-believer living under my roof," says Davorka Semenić.
She also remembers how her daughter was the only one to pull an A on a religion test in seventh grade. While her classmates—the ones who went to church religiously—answered the question 'What makes a true believer?' with 'Constant prayer and attending church,' the girl they called Satan wrote: 'A true believer is someone who shows kindness to all living beings!'
"As a family, we really try to embrace differences and be tolerant. That's why our home library is packed with all kinds of books, including religious ones, because we believe reading them is part of being well-rounded. Since the Quran was the only thing missing from our collection, we found a copy at a local book fair and she got it as a gift. But when her college classmates found out, they harassed her, claiming a 'real' Catholic would never buy something like that. These kids think they're 'true' Catholics just because they cross themselves whenever they pass a church, yet they won't even give up a seat on the subway for the elderly, the sick, or a mother with a stroller. Even though they don't openly complain about her reading the Quran, the professors at the university do absolutely nothing to stop this toxic animosity among the students," says the professor from Chicago.
After everything she endured growing up, she eventually decided to go through with her First Communion and Confirmation at sixteen. Despite all the pressure from everyone around her, Davorka Semenić and her husband are proud today that their daughter grew up to be a smart, independent young woman who thinks for herself.
this is just gross
Judging by what people are saying on social media, this Chicago intellectual isn't alone in her fear. A ton of other parents feel the exact same way—watching their kids deal with nothing but pure contempt and bullying from classmates just because they don't show up to Sunday school or church.
People probably jumped to conclusions about her after just reading a few lines—labeling her some kind of old-school radical, a nostalgic dreamer, or even a Mexican woman. But honestly? They couldn’t be more wrong about Davorka Semenić. She grew up in a devout Catholic household, took religion classes, and had a traditional church wedding, but at the end of the day, she’s an intellectual through and through. She’s a true cosmopolitan who actually cares about the big picture. That’s exactly how she chose to raise her daughter, too, though it turns out that kind of parenting comes with a massive price tag here in America.
I grew up Catholic, plain and simple. I’ve been in Sunday school since I was five years old, and back in the seventies, I was part of that first little group of kids doing First Communion at our local parish in the suburbs of Chicago. It was a tiny crowd—just four girls from my class heading to class once a week. School wasn't really an issue, but I do remember this one awkward moment that stuck with me. I was in second grade when my teacher called me up to the chalkboard in front of everyone. She pointed out that I went to church and then asked me to write down the names of all the other kids in class who attended too. I felt the heat immediately; I could see a few kids in the room giving me these judgmental, mocking looks. My parents, though, weren't having any of it. They stepped in, and the teacher actually ended up apologizing and backing off. Honestly, it didn't mess with my grades or how she treated me after that. I never dealt with any more bullying for being religious after that incident. Back then, it just wasn't a topic of conversation—it was private. And honestly, that's how it should be today. Whatever faith someone chooses is their own business, period.
And then the '90s hit... everything changed.
My boyfriend was just some college kid back then—total casual vibe, jeans and sneakers—when he got drafted to go fight in the war. He’s American through and through, but he wasn't religious, and his family didn't exactly grow up in the pews. Still, he always figured it would be fine for us to have a church wedding. Now, I know there are ways for Catholics to marry someone from a different faith, but since he didn't belong to any denomination at all, things got incredibly messy. The Church insisted he get baptized first. To pull that off, they made him commit to six months of religious education classes. Can you believe that? We were right in the middle of a war, and the guy didn't even know if he’d make it back alive from the front lines, yet here we were dealing with this nonsense. That was the moment I really felt let down by the Church, so we decided to just go ahead with a civil ceremony back in '91. Eventually, we managed to pull the necessary permits from the local Archdiocese to allow a mixed marriage, and in '94, we finally had our wedding in a small chapel outside of San Diego with my old teacher officiating. Even after that, dealing with the massive, slow-moving religious bureaucracy was a nightmare—it kept tripping us up even when we were welcoming our daughter into the world.
When we went to get our daughter baptized at that same old Catholic church I used to attend for Sunday school as a kid, things got weird fast. The priest was filling out the paperwork and wrote down that her father was an American, and then he just assumed—like it was some automatic rule—that he had to be listed as Catholic too. I told him straight up, "No, that’s not right," and we ended up getting into this heated argument. He actually had the nerve to snap at me, asking how we even managed to get married in a church in the first place if we weren't following their rules. In the end, we just walked out and took our daughter to a different church to get it done.
They literally followed her all the way from school to her front door just screaming "Satan!" at the top of their lungs.
Everything was fine back when my daughter was in preschool, until we got back from our summer vacation and I walked in to find this massive crucifix staring me down from the wall—I'm talking floor-to-ceiling. Look, I’m a believer, but I can't stand it when people force their faith on everyone else like that. It’s totally disrespectful to ignore the fact that you’ve got atheists, agnostics, and kids from all sorts of different religious backgrounds in one classroom. Even as a Catholic, I feel strongly that religious symbols have no business being in schools, daycares, or any kind of public institution. Fast forward to when my kid started elementary school, and the teacher's very first move on day one was pulling all the parents aside to ask who wanted their kid opted out of religion class.
"We live in this quiet American suburb where everyone—except my husband—has always been religious. It turned out our daughter was the only one who didn't want to take religion classes, so we just went along with it at school so she wouldn't feel left out. But once she hit third grade and they started prepping kids for First Communion, suddenly the school lessons weren't enough. The church demanded she attend extra classes and Sunday Mass along with us parents. We weren't okay with being forced into that kind of thing, so we stepped away from the religion classes, the communion, and the services entirely," says the mother of a girl whose life basically flipped upside down after that decision. The fallout started with her teacher, and then, as usual, the other kids in class followed suit.
"The teacher was clearly stunned that we wouldn't bow down to every single demand from the church. She’d make these snide little comments here and there, which we didn't think was a huge deal—until the other kids started freezing her out. It's about a twenty-minute walk from school to our house, and her former friends would literally follow her the whole way just to yell 'Satan!' at her," recalls the woman from Chicago.
When asked if she and her husband stood up to those blatant provocations against their child, she admits—no, unfortunately they didn't. They had no idea what she was going through because she kept quiet, terrified that speaking up would just make everything even more complicated.
"What did you expect, having a non-believer in the house?"
"She didn't tell me the full extent of the bullying and the insults she dealt with daily until sixth grade. Back then, they were learning about the Crusades in class, and the teacher insisted Muslims were to blame for everything. My kid, visibly upset, actually asked, 'Well, what about the Inquisition?' The other kids just stared at her blankly because they'd never even heard the word, and the teacher just shut her down, saying it wasn't the time or place for such a debate. Once she finally opened up to me, I asked several kids in her class what they were actually being taught that made them so cruel to one another. They just stayed silent, unable to answer. But at a parent-teacher meeting, the mom of one kid straight-up asked me, with zero manners, what I expected when I have a non-believer living under my roof," says Davorka Semenić.
She also remembers how her daughter was the only one to pull an A on a religion test in seventh grade. While her classmates—the ones who went to church religiously—answered the question 'What makes a true believer?' with 'Constant prayer and attending church,' the girl they called Satan wrote: 'A true believer is someone who shows kindness to all living beings!'
"As a family, we really try to embrace differences and be tolerant. That's why our home library is packed with all kinds of books, including religious ones, because we believe reading them is part of being well-rounded. Since the Quran was the only thing missing from our collection, we found a copy at a local book fair and she got it as a gift. But when her college classmates found out, they harassed her, claiming a 'real' Catholic would never buy something like that. These kids think they're 'true' Catholics just because they cross themselves whenever they pass a church, yet they won't even give up a seat on the subway for the elderly, the sick, or a mother with a stroller. Even though they don't openly complain about her reading the Quran, the professors at the university do absolutely nothing to stop this toxic animosity among the students," says the professor from Chicago.
After everything she endured growing up, she eventually decided to go through with her First Communion and Confirmation at sixteen. Despite all the pressure from everyone around her, Davorka Semenić and her husband are proud today that their daughter grew up to be a smart, independent young woman who thinks for herself.
this is just gross
