My public atheism has brought on issues at work. There’s a group called the Illinois Family Institute, a conservative Christian group in Illinois. I called them out on my website for saying bigoted things. They found out that I’m a high school math teacher at a public high school and e-mailed my principal, other administrators, my department chair, and even my district’s school board. They outed me as an atheist because they didn’t like what I had written. They sent out three separate press releases about it, and I had to have a chat with my boss and my principal. They said, “We know you don’t talk about this in the classroom, so we don’t care.” That was the right response. That incident did not stop me from going after the Illinois Family Institute the next time they said something ridiculous. In time, I actually talked to the person who sent out the press releases about me. We had coffee because we wanted to talk outside of the blog atmosphere, where the comments are often quite vitriolic. In my view, she is a really nice lady who happens to think in a horrific way. That fact hasn’t stopped me from talking about her group or calling her out when the Illinois Family Institute does something that’s, in my view, just wrong.
With everything I have experienced, I think that, depending on its mission, the secular movement can be successful. It needs to determine its goals. If its goal is to convert people to atheism, good luck with that. That’s probably not going to happen. If its goals are to make atheism more visible and respectable, more power to it. I think the young secular activists now are way smarter than I was at their age. They know how to get the message out that atheists are good, moral, decent people. If they focus on that, they’ll get very far. A lot of these student groups now partner up with religious groups on campus so that they can have a positive dialogue. I’ve been able to be a part of some of those conversations, and I love them.
The secular movement needs to be wise about its strategy. There are a few atheist groups that have done things that have really pissed me off. I remember one example in particular, when a group in Texas held an event and said, “Give us your holy books and we’ll give you X-rated pornography,” an event known as “smut for smut.” I immediately thought, “That is just a dick move.” I see their point in a way, but I still don’t like their strategy. I think a more clever campaign is to do what a group at Purdue did, offering to trade fiction for fiction: give us your holy books, and we’ll give you a book of fiction in return. From my perspective, we lose religious moderates and religious liberals when we talk about pornography. We risk alienating women when we talk about pornography. Most of today’s secular college and high school groups, though, are starting to blossom and are doing amazing things.
In my personal life, I’ve thought a lot about whether I would date and potentially marry a religious woman. I think the only time that our differences would cause a conflict is if we had kids. Even now, if I’m dating someone, my atheism is probably more of an issue for her than it is for me because being an atheist is part of my identity. I honestly don’t care if someone I date believes in God so long as we share the same values. I think it’s possible to make relationships work when perspectives are different, but compromise would be necessary.
I think there are real advantages to being an atheist. In a way, it’s nice to be in a minority because, in my experience, there’s almost a secret handshake with other nonbelievers. When I see an Indian person on the street, for example, there’s always a knowing head nod. We bond automatically. The same thing happens with atheists. As a high school teacher, even though I don’t talk about my personal beliefs in the classroom, students tend to find out that I’m an atheist. I’ve had some kids come up to me and say, “I’m an atheist, too!” I usually jokingly respond, “I don’t really care, go do your homework!” But I think they appreciate knowing that there’s someone else out there who’s like them. I’ve received many e-mails from people who say that they’re afraid to talk to their family or friends about their atheism because they’re terrified of what the reaction will be. I’m not gay, but I imagine something similar occurs in the minds of closeted gay people, too. When a gay person meets someone else who’s gay, they probably don’t have to know anything else about that person to automatically bond over the fact that they have probably had some similar experiences.
Reducing fear should be one of the great goals of the secular movement at large, and we seem to be making progress. Younger people are now much more willing to say that they don’t believe in God than they were in the past. Our numbers are going up. I think we’re doing something right. When you know someone who’s an atheist, it’s much easier to consider that possibility, too. A huge part of our mission as atheists should be to make it okay to say, “I’m a rational person, and there’s nothing wrong with me.”
If I could go back in time, I would tell a young me — or anyone else who is young and realizes that they don’t believe in God — to not be afraid. I would tell them to start talking to other atheists. Seek them out, and see if you can make a difference. Be courageous, and have discussions about religion with other people. I didn’t really tell people that I was an atheist for quite a while, largely because I didn’t want to offend anyone. Now, I’m not worried about that. I would advise them to have more pride in who they are from a younger age.
I’ll never forget going to bed the first night that I was convinced that God doesn’t exist. I didn’t pray. I thought that there was a chance that I would wake up with cuts on me as a punishment from God. That didn’t happen, and after that, I never had an inkling that I might be wrong. Even if I had a choice, even if I could choose to have a God exist, I wouldn’t. That idea doesn’t appeal to me anymore. For me, it’s nice that I’m not afraid and that I’m honest with myself.
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Lydia Murphy: Losing Religion and Anti-Religion
“I could now open the door to a new life, one without God.
It didn’t seem too scary. It felt more like something new and exciting, like exploring a new home.”
It is indeed possible for religious indoctrination to fade away. Lydia Murphy (a pseudonym) left her faith quite suddenly, just a year after leaving her private Baptist school that used Christian history books, chastised students for committing thought crimes, and encouraged its pupils to attend Bob Jones University. Once she left, she realized that the Baptists had encouraged stereotypes: not all non-Baptists, she found, were evil and, to her surprise, recreational drug users could be quite pleasant people. She drifted away from her religion, an experience she describes as “like coming out of a fog or waking up from a dream.”
Lydia became heavily involved in her university’s secular group once she enrolled in college, creating some of her fondest memories with its members. While she’s adamant that she would not raise her children in a religious institution, she has lost much of her hostility toward religion in general. She recognizes that many people have had horrendous experiences in life, and religion often provides both comfort and a community for them. It may, she thinks, simply be better for some people to be religious. She’s come to believe that being right isn’t everything. Still, she’s happy that she’s left her faith — and its dogma — behind her.
My parents are vaguely religious in the American cultural Christian way. I grew up in a house that was in a really bad school district, and the only private school that my parents could afford was a Baptist Christian school with a Bible-thumping, Southern-style atmosphere a few miles from our home. I went there from kindergarten through fifth grade.