She Sat on St. Peter’s Throne & Gave Birth on It!

When Pope Leo XIV waved from the Vatican balcony earlier this year—white robes gleaming, crimson sash blazing, flashbulbs popping—it felt like déjà vu—Rome’s eternal theatre of smoke, Latin, and ritual. Habemus Papam. Peeling back the Latin chants and ceremonial flair, you’ll find deeper layers of mystery—especially when you learn Spanish through Popess Joan’s story & Vatican secrets, unlocking what history tried to bury.

Because behind all that incense and spectacle, a whisper still echoes: What if history had done this before… with a twist no one saw coming?

From Chiclayo to Saint Peter’s Chair!

Jaws dropped—not for scandal (at least, not yet), but because it was unexpected. An underdog from the New World, born in the U.S. but more Peruvian than a potato at a fiesta patronal. A man with the accent of Chiclayo and the passport of Chicago—who, back when he was still walking the dusty streets of Peru, used to say in perfect Spanish:

• “Chicago-Chiclayo? it’s only one letter apart. Same shit, different smell”
• “Chicago–Chiclayo? Solo una letra de diferencia. Misma mierda, diferente olor.”

The kind of bishop who drank chicha, ate frito chiclayano, quoted Vargas LLosa, and somehow… made it all the way to the top of the oldest boys’ club on Earth.

A surprise pope, no doubt. But what if he wasn’t the first surprise to sit on Peter’s throne? Wait What?

Ok, I’ll tell you but…

Don’t Mention Her Name: Johannes Anglicus!

Because buried deep in the catacombs of Church history—behind the gold leaf, beneath the marble, beyond the incense—lurks a story so outrageous, it makes Dan Brown look like a footnote.

The Church doesn’t mention her name. She doesn’t appear in official papal lists, and Vatican archivists avoid the topic like a contagious heresy. But every time a new pope steps out on that balcony, her legend stirs like a ghost behind the curtains.

Popess Joan: An Impostor?

The woman pope. The holy hiccup. The ecclesiastical scandal that refused to die. A tale whispered in side chapels, hinted at in medieval manuscripts, and kept alive by generations of suspiciously wide-eyed monks.

A woman. In disguise. Crowned pope!

Yes! That happened. Or maybe it didn’t. But either way, people kept talking.

Let’s rewind the scroll about a thousand years….

While we keep wondering….

A Woman Pope? Is That Even True?

How does a woman fool the most powerful institution in Europe? Simple: wear the robes, know your Latin, keep your voice down, and never, ever get pregnant.

But legend has it that she did.

The Parade That Changed Everything

One fine Roman day, the new pope—our disguised heroine—led a procession through the city. Candles flickered. Bells rang. The holy crowd followed with reverence, unaware that under those papal vestments, contractions had begun.

Right there, between the Colosseum and the Church of St. Clement, in the middle of Via Sacra, the Vicar of Christ fell to her knees.

Not in prayer! In labor!

What came next, depending on the version, was either horror, divine judgment, or both. The crowd recoiled. Some cried witchcraft. Others saw a miracle. Either way, when the baby was born, so was a secret too big for the Church to handle.

Some say she was stoned on the spot by an angry mob. Others claim she was quietly whisked away, imprisoned, erased. The Vatican, of course, says she never existed.

But Rome remembers. So get ready — we’re about to dive into the tangled, juicy threads of this medieval Netflix-worthy drama.

Once Upon a Vatican

The story begins somewhere between the ninth century and the imaginations of medieval storytellers—depending on whom you ask. A brilliant young woman, raised perhaps in Mainz, or Athens, or even England (the details shift like incense smoke), disguises herself as a man to pursue the one thing off-limits to her: knowledge.

She becomes a scholar. Then a priest. Then a cardinal. And eventually—somehow—a pope. Until…

Right There in Front of the Crowd

–Between the Colosseum and the Church of San Clemente, Pope Joan gave birth. In some versions, the child survived. In others, both mother and baby died on the spot. A few accounts say she was dragged away, punished by a horrified Church. But one thing’s agreed upon:

Rome never forgot!

And Neither Did the Storytellers…

Turns out, there are more versions of Joan’s fate than there are actual popesses.

In the earliest ones—like Jean de Mailly’s—things don’t end well. Brutal birth. Angry mob. Goodbye Joan.

But later accounts (hello, Martin of Opava) try a softer take. One version has her whisked off to a monastery. Another lets her son grow up to be Bishop of Ostia.

Because even medieval legends loved a good redemption arc.

The First Plot Twist: Jean de Mailly Spills the Tea

Medieval Metz, 13th century.

Before TikTok conspiracies or Dan Brown thrillers, there was… Jean de Mailly. A Dominican friar with a flair for drama and a quill sharper than a Vatican dagger. He’s the first to drop this medieval mic moment:

A woman—name unknown, gender very much hidden—climbs the clerical ladder, becomes pope, and then… gives birth. Mid-procession. Cue gasps, chaos, and a scandal big enough to make TMZ clutch its pearls.

The result? Peak Roman Drama!

Because of course. According to Jean, the Romans did what they do best: spectacle and punishment.
They tied her feet to a horse’s tail, dragged her through the streets, and stoned her.
Classic.

And to immortalize the moment?
A gravestone. With this Latin punchline:

“Petre, Pater Patrum, Papisse Prodito Partum.”
Which loosely translates to:
“Peter, Father of Fathers, out this birthing Popess now!”

But Jean wasn’t done. Apparently, the scandal shook the Church so hard, it sparked a new mini-Lent:
The Fast of the Female Pope.
Yup—imagine giving up meat just because someone gave birth in a chasuble

Turning Up the Drama: Enter Pope Joan, the Prequel

Martin of Opava wasn’t just some friar scribbling in the margins—he was the Church’s librarian. The man had receipts.

He took Jean’s version and ran with it like a medieval Shonda Rhimes. Suddenly, our nameless Popess had a name: Johannes Anglicus (because gender-neutral Latin hits different), and a whole backstory to match.

Born in Mainz (or maybe England, or maybe both—this legend isn’t great with geography), little Johannes was a prodigy. Fluent in Latin, Greek, maybe even sarcasm. She disguised herself as a boy, joined a monastery, and climbed the ecclesiastical ranks like a holy ninja. No one suspected a thing.

Rome Wasn’t Ready

By the time she made it to the papacy, she was the Beyoncé of the Vatican. Liturgies on point. Doctrine? Tight. Latin? Flawless.
But then came the pregnancy.

Martin’s twist? The people weren’t angry. They were shocked, yes. But what really broke them wasn’t the birth—it was the betrayal. Rome didn’t care she was a woman. Rome cared that she’d kept a secret.

And then… poof. The legend says she died. Or maybe she was deposed. Or maybe—cue the soft piano chords—she repented and retired quietly to a convent, where she prayed and crocheted her guilt away.

Bonus Plot Twist: Her Son Becomes a Bishop

Martin wasn’t content with a tragic ending. He needed the medieval version of an after-credits scene.

In one version, Joan’s son grows up to become Bishop of Ostia, the same dude who traditionally crowns new popes.
Yup. The Popess’s baby becomes the guy who welcomes the next pope to power.

The Catholic Universe™ stays undefeated.

Remix Culture: How the Legend Grew Legs

Over the centuries, the story of Popess Joan got the medieval equivalent of a Netflix reboot every few decades. Chroniclers added plot twists, updated her wardrobe, and made her more… memeable.

Among the evolving details:

• She’s called Agnes, Gilberta, or just “that one from England.”
• Her lovers vary. Sometimes she has one, sometimes she’s just super into theology.
• Some versions say her tomb was marked and actively avoided by popes for centuries.
• And oh yes—legend has it this whole mess is the reason popes began sitting on a sedia stercoraria—a throne with a suspicious hole in the middle, just to make sure we’d never have another surprise birth from the Chair of Peter.

And yet, behind all the embroidered legend and ecclesiastical gossip… we’re still left wondering:

So… Did It Happen?

Let’s just say the Vatican has opinions. She’s not on the official pope list. Her existence is brushed off like incense smoke in a side chapel. And Church historians have labeled the tale “fictional,” “unfounded,” and “deeply inconvenient.”

But.

Every time a new pope walks onto that balcony in pristine white and crimson, beneath centuries of Latin chants and the heavy gaze of marble saints—someone out there whispers:

“What if?”

Proof in the Holes

And just when you think it can’t get weirder… let’s talk about the chair.

According to the legend, after the Popess Joan debacle, the Church quietly implemented a new vetting procedure for popes. Enter the sedes stercoraria—a cold, uncomfortable marble throne with a conspicuously round hole cut right in the middle.

During coronations, the newly elected pope would sit on this peculiar seat while a cardinal crouched beneath and… inspected. Not for scoliosis. For testicles.

The ritual supposedly ended with a solemn confirmation shouted to the rest of the clergy:

“Testiculos habet et bene pendentes.”
He has testicles—and they hang well.

Because nothing says “Vicar of Christ” like a sacred groin check.

The practice was eventually phased out—maybe once people started asking too many awkward questions—but the chair itself? Still around. You can spot it today in the Vatican Museums. If you ask about it, though, the guards tend to smile… and change the subject.

Draw your own conclusions!

A Street Avoided and a Name Erased

After her death—if death it was—Joan was buried in that very spot. According to Martin, future popes would deliberately avoid the street where the scandal occurred, turning aside their processions in quiet shame. To this day, there’s a symbolic detour in papal routes. No explanation officially given. But the legend says it’s because of her.

Joan, or John, was never added to the list of legitimate pontiffs. Not because her reign was brief. Not because her teachings were false.

But because she was a woman.

What If She Wasn’t the Only One?

Now here’s the real heresy.

What if Pope Joan wasn’t an isolated miracle—or mistake? What if her story survived not just because it shocked, but because it echoed something that had happened more than once?

Historians tend to dismiss the tale as fiction, a morality play invented to warn against female ambition. But the whispers go deeper. Manuscripts reference a “popess” who reigned for a brief time. 

Some 13th-century chronicles mention “Johanna” with curiously detailed timelines. Even a statue of a female pope once stood among the papal effigies at Siena Cathedral… until it mysteriously disappeared.

Coincidence? Convenient editing? Or cover-up?

After all, in a Church that spent centuries denying women access to pulpits, priesthood, and property, it’s not hard to imagine why a story like Pope Joan’s wouldn’t survive in the official record.

Maybe she was the exception—or maybe she was just the one who got caught.

Either way, the gaps in history often say as much as what’s written down—especially when those gaps are in a language most of us were never taught to question.

And now, with a Peruvian Pope in the Vatican, there’s no better time to learn Spanish through Popess Joan’s story and Vatican secrets—and see how language can unlock what history tried to hide.

The Legend Lives On!

Despite centuries of denial, Joan refuses to die.

She resurfaces in paintings, novels, opera, and angry blog posts. She resurfaces in paintings, novels, opera—and even on screen, like in Pope Joan (2009) or the bestselling novel by Donna Woolfolk Cross.

She’s a feminist icon—like Dolores Delano, a cautionary tale, a medieval meme. Some see her as a saint, others as a fraud. The Vatican calls her a myth. But the more they protest, the more we want to believe.

Because the notion of a woman slipping past the gates of power—climbing all the way to the top of a throne built to exclude her—still sends a shiver down our spine.

A Crack in the Marble!

No, we’re not talking about the infamous hole in the sedes stercoraria used to confirm whether the Pope had huevos (you know, balls).

We are talking about her…

Whether real or imagined, Pope Joan represents a crack in the marble — a question mark in a long line of certainties.

And let’s be honest: if you can’t trust the popes to tell you their own history, maybe the missing details are the most interesting ones of all.

Why? Because she was able to conquer…

A Throne Built to Exclude Her

—And she was the one who outsmarted It! To this day, Pope Joan remains an ecclesiastical ghost. A symbol. A scandal. A maybe.

The Vatican has never officially acknowledged her, despite the street detours, the ancient chairs, and the obsessive interest of historians. But as long as the throne of St. Peter exists, so too does the whisper:

What if it wasn’t always a man sitting there?

And maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t the only one. But at least,…

Now That We Know!

We’ll be more alert. So next time a pope steps onto that iconic balcony, with the crowd chanting “Habemus Papam” and the cameras zooming in like it’s the Vatican Oscars… maybe—just maybe—someone’s still nervously checking under the chair. Because you never know when another hija de Eva might slip through in robes, mitre, and all the holy swagger.

¡Aprende español con KDF!

And yes—so you can finally chat with your nuevo papa peruano.

After diving into the legend of a medieval woman who may have slipped past the Vatican dress code, let’s fast-forward to today—where the real pope has roots in Chiclayo, not Chicago.

That’s right: the guy in the white robes is more Peruvian than a potato at a fiesta patronal.

So if you’ve ever thought, “Chicago, Chiclayo… same shit, different smell”—wait till you hear him speak.

Spanish isn’t just a party trick anymore. It’s how you’ll catch every sly joke in his homilies, every cultural wink in his Gospel reflections, and every holy double entendre he drops like incense.

Now that you know so it’s about time to Learn Spanish Through Popess Joan’s Story & Vatican Secrets—because salvation might just be bilingual.

Why Spanish matters now:

• A Peruvian Pope on the Balcony: Imagine it: cameras pan across St. Peter’s Square, the white smoke rises, and you hear, “¡Hermanos y hermanas!” That’s not Latin—they’re speaking Spanish. If you want to feel the electricity when he says “Que Dios los bendiga” and know exactly why half the crowd cheers and half weeps, you need the language.
• Beyond the Ritual: Today’s Church is global, but Spanish is the fastest-growing liturgical tongue after English. From synods in Rome to prayer groups in Lima, knowing Spanish means joining the conversation, not just watching from the pews.

How Kasa de Franko (KDF) Can Help:

At KDF, we’ve designed immersive, conversation-driven courses so you don’t just memorize verb tables—you live Spanish. Whether you’re learning to order cabrito a la chiclayana in Lambayeque or digging into papal encyclicals with fresh eyes, our classes help you make real-world connections.

Because sometimes, understanding a story like Joan’s means going beyond translation.
Learn Spanish through Popess Joan’s story and Vatican secrets, and see how language opens doors history tried to close.

Why now is the time to start:

• With a new Peruvian pope at the helm, Spanish is no longer “just another language.” It’s the language of papal press conferences, global broadcasts, and heartfelt blessings.
• Imagine catching every nod to Peruvian folklore—‘la Pachamama,’ ‘los Andes’—in real time, instead of Googling later.
• Even if you only tune in for the occasional viral clip (“¿Qué dijo el papa?”), you’ll finally know the answer without Googling, “What did the pope say in Spanish?”

Join KDF to Transform your Spanish Journey:

• Flexible schedules: Virtual classes with native‐speaker instructors from Spain and Latin America, so you can log in from Lima, Chicago, or anywhere your Wi-Fi reaches.
• Interactive materials: Video clips of real Spanish sermons, quizzes based on current papal speeches, and live Q&A sessions where you can ask, “¿Qué quiso decir el papa cuando mencionó ‘el pueblo de Dios’?”
• Community connection: Chat with other students preparing for pilgrimages, group-watch papal events together, and practice your new skills in student-led worship simulations.

So, whether you’re fascinated by a medieval Pope Joan or excited to understand every word from Pope from Chiclayo, there’s never been a better time to learn Spanish. Don’t just read about history—participate in it. Sign up today, and the next time “Habemus Papam” echoes through the Square, you’ll be ready to listen, laugh, and believe.

¡Nos vemos en clase!
– Franko and the KDF Team

Ready to Level Up Your Vocabulary?

Whether you’re debating Joan’s existence, following papal rituals, or preparing for your first Spanish-language Mass, these terms will keep you connected. 

Before you go, here’s a handy mini–glossary in English, Latin, and Spanish. These key terms will help you revisit Pope Joan’s story, follow papal rituals, and expand your religious and historical vocabulary.

Key Vocabulary

Use this trilingual glossary to deepen your understanding of Vatican politics. Whether you’re debating Joan’s existence, reading papal documents, or simply curious about ecclesiastical terms, these words will keep you connected across English, Latin, and Spanish contexts.

Spanish Matters More than Ever

Understanding the shift of power in today’s multipolar world might help us make sense of why Spanish matters more than ever. Just imagine this: the newly appointed Pope Leo XIV stepping out onto the balcony of St. Peter’s and — surprise — not speaking English, but Spanish, when addressing the world for the first time. But wait why the Pope prefered Spanish to English? Symbolic? Absolutely. Coincidence? Not a chance.

Because in a world no longer run by a single empire, neither language nor truth takes orders from the top anymore. Which brings us back to Juana. She, too, was inconvenient for those in power — too brilliant, too different, too ahead of her time.

That’s why we say: Learn Spanish Through Popess Joan’s Story & Vatican Secrets — and discover a language shaped by rebels, rulers, and revelations.

🔀 The World Has No Boss

Think the world runs on English and Western logic? Think again. Read our satirical piece on Make American Language Official (MALO)—muy MALO. This piece unpacks how power, language, and culture shift in a decentralized world — and why Spanish might just be your backstage pass to a world that doesn’t take orders from the usual suspects.

Kinda like how Papisa Juana wasn’t part of their script either, right?

🩸 Faith, Fire & Flagellation: When Belief Leaves Bruises

Devotion or domination? This dive into Latin America’s most intense Holy Week rituals blurs the line between the sacred and the brutal. It’s about control, spectacle, and bodies made into symbols.

Sound familiar? The Church has always known how to use drama — and how to bury the stories that challenge its stage.

Don’t Just Learn Spanish or History!

Don’t Just Learn the History They Want You to Know!

At Kasa de Franko, we don’t just teach Spanish.
We teach you how to talk about the things that still make those in power uncomfortable.

So next time someone says “las mujeres nunca han sido Papa,”
you’ll raise an eyebrow — and answer in perfect Spanish.

Learn Spanish for Free

Claim your Free Spanish Lesson today…  before they rewrite history again. Learn Spanish through Popess Joan’s story & forbidden Vatican secrets — before they vanish.

Get a free evaluation for adults and kids with Kasa de Franko or our sister school, KiDeeF Spanish — where even Popess Joan would’ve learned to clap back en español.

👉 Click the red button to start — it’s free, fun, and fabulously bilingual.

And remember…