Passionately Promoting A More Perfect World

True To Myself

Throughout high school, I pretend to be a Christian. I prayed like everyone else; I attended devotion like everyone else; I participated in Bible Study like everyone else. I walked the walk and talked the talk convincingly enough that my English teacher recommended I become a pastor.

And I did this because, if I didn’t, they were willing to expel me. This is why I underwent a conversion ceremony during my first week of class and kept the act running for the next five years.

When I got to college, I finally fell under Freedom of Religion protections. I burst right out of the closet like the Kool-Aid man and quickly became know as “the atheist” on campus. It’s not that I argued with people (by choice) about it, it’s just that you would be amazed how much [Redacted]ians talk about (and ask each other about) church.

Last year, I took a Religious Education course because it was one of the mandatory “electives”. From the beginning of the first class, I knew I would hate it, because the teacher took the first available opportunity to shoehorn “Gays are so awful, amirite?” into the lecture (and received applause from half the class).

Regardless, I still paid attention and answered every single question. After all, I like thinking about religion, and she asked a couple interesting questions about each religion she planned to cover during the semester. However, at the end of the first lecture, she made a comment about how the course wouldn’t touch on atheism, because there was nothing valuable there anyway.

But, then, she changed her mind. She decided to go on a rant about how criminal, disgusting, hateful, deceitful, ignorant, and all-around vile atheists were. At the end, she added “But at least it doesn’t last. Atheism typically takes root during college, when kids start to think they know something, but they return to Jesus within a few months. Actually, you’re college students, I wonder how many of you deny the Almighty. Stand up if you’re an atheist,” She sneered.

Now, I happened to know for a fact that a few of the other students in this class were non-believers. Of course, I also knew without looking that no one would stand. I mean, who would choose to answer an execution summons?

The class went silent after her request. Then, the scraping of a chair and a few scattered gasps.

“You, Alison?” She asked, astonished. “You’re an atheist?”

“Why yes, I am an atheist.” I replied as I stood calmly behind my desk.

“And the only one, too; it seems.” She added smugly

“No, actually.” I said. “I know other atheists in this class - and, no, I’m not telling you who they are. They can tell you if they want. I just refuse to pretend I’m something I’m not.”

“Hmm.” She sounded unconvinced. “And how long have you been an atheist?”

“Eight years and counting.”

The shock was visible on her face as she told me to sit back down.

After class, I went home and wrote like I was running out of time.

The next day, I came to class with a full backpack. I distributed pamphlets to anyone who wanted them. They all bore the same title: ‘Why Yes, I Am An Atheist (and what that actually means)’.