I know that there are stereotypes of atheists, that they’re emotionally distant, introverted, anti-religious, curmudgeonly, and anti-social. I’m not like that, and very few atheists that I know are like that. I think it’s often precisely because atheists have that image that most people decide not to explore atheism. When I was a kid, I didn’t know any atheists, but for some reason, assumed that they were depressed, sad, unfriendly people. That certainly isn’t the case. Our group’s goal was not to de-convert people, it wasn’t to ridicule religion, or even to encourage people to think about atheism. We wanted people to know that we are a group of happy atheists. We love our lives. If you want to be around us, if you want a community, if you need a community, we’re here for you. That was powerful for many people. I don’t think that I know of anyone who became an atheist because of our group, but I do know that we have changed the image of atheism on our campus because of our approach.
I think that AHA! was 60:40 women to men, which is quite rare in atheist groups. That may have resulted from the fact that I am a woman, which perhaps made joining more comfortable for other females. I also think that it helped that we were friendly and accessible. We weren’t intimidating. We let people come to us.
My parents started to hear a lot about my atheism because of my involvement in that group. They’re my best friends. I tell my mom everything. My atheism is not necessarily something that we frequently talk about, but both of my parents have expressed pride in me for starting the club. One day, I remember my dad and I were driving together. He had just picked me up from the airport at the end of my sophomore year. I was telling him how hard it had been to start my atheist group. It had taken a lot of time and energy out of my life, but I was so happy with it because it was so fulfilling. My dad said, “Lucy, I wish that I could start a club called ‘The Alliance of Fathers Who Love Their Happy Atheist Daughters.’” That meant so much to me.
While I do have a desire to be understanding and friendly, I do still have some concerns about religion and dogma. One of my best friends is an amazing guy. He is one of the most quick-witted, clever people I know, and he is very religious. He has had some issues with religion because he is bisexual. But he doesn’t support gay rights. He doesn’t believe in evolution. He’s always been adamant that he believes in God and Jesus, in heaven and hell. These facts cam be very difficult for me because we spend a lot of time together.
One day while we were traveling through Sweden together, he turned to me and asked, “Do you think that I am unintelligent or less intelligent than you because I have founded my beliefs on the Bible?” I responded, “That’s a really hard question for me. I really value people who have opinions that are based on evidence, opinions that are held because they went through a long process of asking themselves questions, logical, difficult questions, while seeking evidence in trying to answer them. I think when people get their answers from the Bible, they don’t necessarily go through that process. They simply look at its content and think, ‘Whatever this book says, I’m going to believe it.’” Despite our differences, we’ve remained close friends.
I still find that I have very little interest in making other people atheists. As long as people do good for others, I really don’t care about their religious identification. I do value evidence-based critical reasoning, though, and I try to have as much compassion as I possibly can for people because I understand that religion is important in many people’s lives. But sometimes I have to step back and realize that a person I’m talking to has a vastly different way of viewing the world than I do. I try to encourage them to think as much as they can from many different angles. That’s really all I can do.
For me, with what I’ve gone through, I certainly feel like I’m a different person now. I think more intellectually. I don’t hesitate to ask questions. I explore more. I try to be open-minded and gather information about everything before forming my beliefs. I think I like myself a lot more now.
I also have a more naturalistic understanding of my life. Now, when I go outside and see the sunshine streaming through the leaves, I have the same feeling of incredible gratitude, of love for the world, that I did when I was religious. I get an intense feeling in my heart that swells up with happiness and joy. I’m so thankful that I can live in this beautiful world. I feel lucky. I have my family. I’m healthy. Now, however, my happiness comes from the fact that I realize that I’m a human being and that I am connected with other human beings, not from the presence of a God. My happiness comes from the beauty of the world as it actually is.
My journey to atheism has been one of the most life-affirming, intellectually stimulating, wonderful experiences of my life. While I’m pretty sure there’s not an afterlife that I’m going to, I have a wonderful worldview that encourages me to take advantage of my life right here and now. In my own spiritual life, I could not be happier. I feel like such a strong person. Sometimes, I think, “Wow, I’m an atheist!” I just smile to myself.
XIII.
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Mark Hatcher: From Child Missionary to Black Atheist
“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Sahara.
Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively outnumbers the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.”
Roughly 94% of Howard University’s undergraduates and 85% of its graduate students are African American. While statistics are not available, it’s reasonable to believe that a similar number are theists. It’s surprising, given his childhood inclinations, that the school’s most visible atheist, Ph.D. candidate Mark Hatcher, has become a public advocate for secularism and atheism. He was quiet, reserved, and unsure of himself as a kid, and his family thought that he would become a pastor — a prestigious role in the black community — because of his propensity to lead his family in prayer. He had believed that in order to be a good person, he needed to be an active member of his church.
Mark’s education has always shaped his perspective of the world. A high school class on the world’s religions taught him about faiths other than Christianity, and his first evolutionary biology class his freshman year at the University of Maryland described the natural creation of life on Earth. While he admits that it can be quite lonely to be a black atheist, he’s happy to have his worldview, for its accuracy and the loving secular community he has found.
I was born into a family with a mother who was Catholic and a father who was Baptist. My mother’s family, her brothers and parents, were pretty devout. My family went to church, and I grew up going to Catholic and Baptist private schools. My religious schooling lasted through high school. In retrospect, I don’t think that my parents were particularly religious. They put me into religious private schools so that I would go to church during the week, meaning that they wouldn’t have to go on Sunday.