LIKE A. K. M. ADAM (”Collared,” May 31), I am an Episcopal priest. I too generally wear clerical garb when I am serving in liturgical or educational ministries. I like his conception of the collar as a “uniform” much like that of the UPS driver. I wear mine in the same spirit, particularly when I know I will need to visit parishioners in the hospital or nursing home. Ideally, the collar will help the healthcare workers identify me as a person with a necessary function.

Unlike Adam, however, I am a female Episcopal priest. And what I have discovered as I wear my clericals in medical facilities and other public settings is that the collar can be a source of confusion. I have been called “Father.” I have been called “Sister” and asked if I am a nun.
But most baffling to me is when people just won’t see it. Because I am a woman: they can’t associate me with a clerical collar. And so they simply don’t.

“You’re here to visit Miss X?” some bright young attendant asks. “Yes,” I say. “And you are …?”

“I’m her pastor.” I point to the collar. And wait. And wait some more. Then I watch as the expression folds and wrinkles in perplexity.

“Oh. I thought you were just wearing a really interesting blouse.”