Growing up Anglican was tough. Though my hometown in rural Maryland is noticeably full of evangelical, Protestant holy rollers, there is also a considerable Catholic undercurrent that carried most of my childhood friends. At the only time in my life when I was remotely religious, I was bitter; the Episcopalian rites and hymns were almost the same as the Catholics’, but only my Catholic friends got all the fun stuff that came with being pious.

They got special parties when they were old enough to take Communion; we got plain wine and wafers from the time we could swallow. They went to “Mass,” which sounded way more serious and intriguingly colossal than just going to church, and if they misbehaved, they could be “excommunicated,” which just sounded awesome in itself. Plus, they had that old man in Rome with the funny hat. In my limited childhood understanding of religious tradition, Anglicanism just seemed like some backward version of Catholicism, where you go through all the boring parts and don’t get anything exciting in return. No fair!

Admittedly, 10 years later and with a somewhat more accurate comprehension of Christian ideologies, I feel pretty much the same way I did then. I understand why Episcopalians are the way they are (that is, generally uptight and emotionally stunted) but I still want the perks of being a Catholic. I want a rosary that I actually know how to use; I want to wear my favorite saint on a medal around my neck; I want nuns! Despite the utter lack of spiritual fervor that I acquired in my adolescence, these discrepancies have always torn at the core of my being. My Catholic envy complex has been an itch on my consciousness that I have never been able to scratch.

Imagine my elation, then, when I found out that the Pope had welcomed disenchanted Anglicans back into the Roman Catholic Church. Immediately after hearing the news, I scoured the Internet for clarification, ready to sprint over to St. Paul the Apostle, crying, “That’s me! I’m disenchanted! Where do I sign up?”

Unfortunately, the answer was jarring: I would be converting with all of the ultra-conservative Episcopalians who have been cleaving at the deepening schism within Anglicanism. These are the ones who have been threatening to defect from the denomination for years, displeased with the relatively progressive stances that the Anglican Church in America has taken on issues like the acceptability of female and gay clergy. These are the real reasons people want to convert. Unlike me, they aren’t attracted to Catholicism’s stark iconography and endearingly severe customs; they want all the things that deter me from Catholicism, like restrictive standpoints on human equality. Not only that, but converted Episcopalians are to maintain almost everything about their rites and traditions, except for the name and liberal attitudes. So it’s still all the boring stuff, but this time, without the human rights.

Needless to say, I was disappointed with both denominations. Of course, this already existent near-schism status within the Episcopalian denomination is a testament to its leadership’s failure to make its progressive decisions normative. Rather than promoting open-mindedness toward women and homosexuals, these decisions have simply infuriated and alienated the denomination’s conservative members without any effort to make these measures more amenable to old-fashioned worshippers. And instead of adopting a uniform policy of acceptance, some clergy have tolerated the bigoted resentment that has led to Anglicanism’s tenuous split down the middle.

All of this is despicable, but the Vatican’s decision to meddle in this mess is equally upsetting. Sure, Catholicism has some less-than-relevant viewpoints on issues like gay and reproductive rights. But in recent history, those stances have been kept, with occasional exceptions, within the Catholic Church. Catholicism is not evangelical; it clings to its conservative traditions and keeps them within its own borders. Now, however, it has reached out into someone else’s business: it is encouraging conservative Anglicans to keep their minds closed.

By appealing to these old-fashioned Episcopalians, the Catholic Church is depleting another faith’s following simply because, and not for the first time, Anglicans are not following in Rome’s extreme, traditionalist footsteps. If it is easier for disenchanted Episcopalians to convert than it is for them to learn to accept change, very few will remain loyal to their denomination. In this case, the Catholic Church is actively stunting tolerance and equality outside of its religious borders. Once again, no fair!

All in all, I will always have a soft spot for the Vatican. I still eye those little red prayer candles with envy, and obviously, the Jesuits at Fordham have stolen my heart. Though I disagree with some of the Catholic Church’s concepts of morality, I am still able to admire the faith because, for the most part, it keeps its politics to itself and shows a basic level of respect to those with dissenting ideologies. Fordham is a perfect example; the Jesuits here embrace the primarily liberal, multi-faith, largely homosexual student body. But, although it may seem like a step toward inclusion, the Pope’s recent outreach to dissenting Anglicans is antithetical to this overarching philosophy of respect for others.

The Catholics are reaching out to the wrong people—not the ones who, like me, admire the Church for its rich traditions and timeless culture, but the ones who view it simply as the next best thing to conservative Anglicanism. If they really want to be inclusive, they should reach out to those of us with true Catholic envy. If we can love the Catholic Church despite its flaws, it should be able to love us, too. Here’s my deal for the Pope: if you welcome us, too, we’ll keep our wicked progressive politics to the confessional—we promise!