Essays, Etc.

Atheism, Etc.

I was raised in an atheist family, and, being that I am one, I’ve discovered that there are many misconceptions about atheists, and atheism in general.

I do not care if you are religious. I will not laugh in your face and tell you that you’re an idiot; I respect your right as a human being to have beliefs. I am not a monster.

I do not participate in illegal or immoral activities simply because I do not believe there is an almighty being watching my every move, just like I wouldn’t murder a person simply because there wasn’t a cop around to watch.

I do not take drugs.

Somehow, all of these things have become associated with atheism. A large amount of people see atheists as some sort of rebellion, as though we simply exist to cause trouble and destroy the status quo. My parents and I did not have a meeting one day and say “You know what would make The Man angry? If we didn’t believe in God.”

Also, it seems that many seem to think that atheism breeds atheism. While that can be true, this is not the case for a large majority of people. I, for example, have always been offered to be taken to church, whether it be by my parents or a relative who was concerned about me being destroyed in the Rapture. I didn’t go for the simple fact that I do not believe in the religion, the same reason an Orthodox Christian doesn’t attend services at a mosque.

In fact, the opposite is mainly true: religion breeds atheism. My parents were both raised in religious households, and both respectively lost faith and interest. Both say that it was due to either getting tired of being guilted into feelings things that they didn’t believe, or that they just stopped focusing on an afterlife and decided to pay more attention to the present (this is mainly the argument my mother poses).

The fact is, in a lot of situations, atheists face a lot more opposition than people who are religious. I have had many moments where I wished I was Christian, Jewish, anything. Hell, I’ve had moments where I just yelled at the ceiling in case something was there listening.

Those were dire straits, but still; atheism has its setbacks.

For example, I was once at a school carnival with a friend and some other girls that she was friends with, that I didn’t really know. I had learned earlier that night that one girl was a year younger than me, so I brought up My Little Pony, in case she was into that kind of stuff.

She didn’t speak to me the rest of the night.

So we were all walking back to the car to leave, and my friend, for whatever reason, decided to ask this brilliant question:

“So... What religion is everyone?”

The question was asked as innocently as one would ask “What time is it over there?” or “How are you enjoying the weather?”

I kept walking and stared at the ground as the answers rang out around me.

“Christian!”

“Christian!”

“Christian!”

“What about you, WooWoo?”

I thought about just saying “Christian” so that I would face less persecution and be left alone for a while, but decided against it. Honesty was the best policy, after all. That’s what I’d heard, at least.

“I... Umm...” I stammered and stared at the ground as I kept walking.

“I’m not religious.”

The girls must have sped up by ten paces each. They were just hauling ass at this point, and I remained alone as they ran away from me, the vandal, the troublemaker, the drug user, the murderer, the immoral asshole.

It didn’t matter to them that I had spent all night helping them volunteer at an elementary school carnival, or that I had taught some second graders how to read earlier that year. All that mattered was that I did not believe in a man in the sky, and I was to be condemned for it.

Thus, I was left alone.

I stared ahead and laughed to myself as they ran, as though I was going to grab them by the legs and drag them to Hell myself. I pictured myself taking off my clothes, revealing a demon’s tail and flaming eyes.

“You’re coming with me, ladies!”

I eventually caught up with them and got in the car, and I could tell I made them uncomfortable. I was glad, and secretly wished that one would jump out of the car out of sheer terror.

None of them did.

I reclined in the passenger’s seat and asked to go home.

I had a stomach ache, I said.

I needed to take some medicine and sleep, I said.

I need to become a Christian, I thought.

As I got out of the car I looked up at the sky and imagined that, if there was really a man up there, watching me, he must not like me. I must’ve done something wrong. Maybe it was that time I took a small sip of my mother’s wine.

I apologized in my head, but imagined that wasn’t enough. I would have to go to church, I would have to repent all my sins, I would have to change my lifestyle, I would have to lie to myself, my family, my own code of morals. I would have to believe.

I kept walking and kicked a loose stone.

I decided that I was fine, wherever I was going. If I was going to Heaven for being a good person, I hoped that it was nice there and that it was a good temperature. Air conditioning would be nice. Maybe one of those Tempurpedic beds. Although I suppose I would sleep on a cloud or something fancy like that.

If I went into the ground, which is what I predicted would happen, I hoped that the worms took their time enjoying me and that it was a nice meal. I hoped that little maggot named Jim and his wife Carrie and his son Jared, who’s not doing well in school, he has to get his grades up, damn it, had a good time living within my eye socket.

And if I went to Hell, for whatever it is that I’ve done, I hoped that I would at least see all my other atheist friends and family members there as well, because we’re all going together. We’ll be sitting down there, talking, playing cards, laughing at the people stuck in Heaven. They weren’t having as much fun as us.

Yes, if that were to happen, I would be fine with that, too.

I like the heat.