The name of the blog is Blag Hag. The name itself proves that I didn’t believe that it would gain a wide readership. I write, usually at least once a day, about a little bit of everything: atheism, religion, science, sex, political topics, or gay rights. To my delight, it has become relatively popular.
I’m proud that my work has become a part of what I believe is a blossoming secular movement. I look at how much it has grown since I was in high school. We’re starting to get so much air time on television. One of the best things that has come out of the movement is simply letting atheists know that they’re not alone and that it’s okay to identify as an atheist. I think this is only the beginning. Our conferences are starting to draw thousands of people. I think there’s a really big need for what the movement is doing, especially in the United States, where, for so long, atheists have seemed content shutting up and listening to religious people. I think it was atheist blogger Greta Christina who said that the goal of the movement should be to make itself obsolete. I agree with that.
When I think back to my past, I feel like I went through two phases of atheism. When I was really young, my atheism was based on the fact that I had read a lot of Greek mythology and other fairytales. The Gods that Americans believed in didn’t seem any different than those of antiquity. When I was that age, I really wished that the religious stories were true. There were times, during this, my first phase, when I thought, “I would feel so much better if I could pray to God and know that it would actually do something, to know that someone cared about me in the grand scheme of things.” I was scared of death and didn’t like the idea that when you die, that’s it, and there’s nothing afterwards. When I was younger and hadn’t really thought through my atheism, it wasn’t an incredibly positive thing for me.
Later, when I was in high school, once I began to truly think about what it means to be an atheist, I began my second stage. I started reading blogs to learn about how other atheists felt about situations, and I began to develop my current beliefs. My perspective has changed. Now, I don’t fear death. I see that I’m lucky that I got this one life. I appreciate more fully that this world arose naturally, a fact that I find mind-bogglingly amazing. I don’t feel like I need to have someone intervene to answer my prayers because I should just go do something about any problem I may have. My perspective on my life is now much deeper and much better.
XVIII.
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Stef McGraw: An Atheist in Iowa
“The only position that leaves me with no cognitive dissonance is atheism. It is not a creed. Death is certain, replacing both the siren-song of Paradise and the dread of Hell.
Life on this earth, with all its mystery and beauty and pain, is then to be lived far more intensely: we stumble and get up, we are sad, confident, insecure, feel loneliness and joy and love. There is nothing more; but I want nothing more.”
Fitting in as an atheist in Iowa can be a challenge. During her upbringing in a mostly white, Christian state, Stef McGraw knew many young people who discussed how God was influencing their lives. Most of her peers were involved in youth group. Raised in the Unitarian Universalist Church, which, more than anything, emphasizes respect for people and the environment, she had the freedom to educate herself and decide which religious — or nonreligious — perspective would work best for her.
The group that she joined as a freshman in college, the University of Northern Iowa Freethinkers and Inquirers, provided a supportive community that grew her confidence and comfort in her identity. Stef, like many involved in the secular movement, recognizes the lack of women within it. The characteristics that are generally associated with those who do not believe in God — coldness, lack of emotion, etc. — are, according to her, both intimidating and untrue, encouraging women to distance themselves from the possibility of atheism.
I grew up in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Given my area, I come from an atypical family. I was raised Unitarian Universalist. My dad grew up in Iowa going to the Unitarian church that he still attends. His parents, my paternal grandparents, were both raised Christian, but both turned away from the dogmas of faith. My mother is from California, and both of her parents, my maternal grandparents, are culturally Jewish; mom never went to temple, though. My parents always encouraged me to educate myself about the beliefs of others, with the understanding that they would support me no matter what I determined to be true. As I was growing up, I assumed that they didn’t believe in God because they’d always complain about the Christian right-wing.
Growing up, I attended my dad’s Unitarian church. It had a good religious education program, and I was always really involved in that. It taught about different religions and encouraged us to become familiar with the stories of the Bible so that everyone in the congregation would be able to relate to our community. In Iowa, nearly everyone is Christian.
Rather than teaching obedience to the Bible as a whole, the UU Church emphasizes its seven principles: the inherent worth and dignity of every person; justice, equity, and compassion in human relations; acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations; a free and responsible search for truth and meaning; the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large; the goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all; and respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part. I have a great respect for their values.
Even though I was educated about Christianity, though, I still felt like an outsider in my community. I went to a standard upper-middle class, very white, very Protestant public school in a stereotypical American suburban area. All of my friends growing up believed in God, and everyone I knew was heavily involved in their church. When I was in middle school, I learned the meaning of the word “agnostic” and would self-identify with that word because it seemed socially acceptable.
I felt very out of place. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have friends, but a lot of my really good friends would go to church together. I did not. They would have conversations about how God had helped them in their lives. I’d always sit quietly in the corner, not saying anything. By high school, I knew that I was an atheist, and I felt like I couldn’t truly share myself.
Even though there were times when I wished that I could have been involved in religion for social reasons, my atheism never changed. I knew from a very early age, probably elementary school, that I did not believe in the Christian conception of God. For a time, I considered different, more abstract notions of a deity, but I didn’t find those possibilities satisfying either. I never had one moment at which I stopped believing in God because I don’t think I ever really believed. I had no real emotional reaction to my conclusion, although it did help that I had the UU Church behind me, as they’re supportive of atheists.
After high school, I decided to go to the University of Northern Iowa for college. When I arrived, there was an orientation at which all of the student groups had booths set up. My parents were with me, and at one point they came up to me and said, “I think we saw something you might like.” They directed me toward a big sign that read “No God, No Problem.” I certainly did not expect to see anything like that because UNI’s student population is quite religious. I wrote down my name on their signup list, and the group contacted me about getting involved shortly thereafter.