Wednesday, May 27, 2015
"He Kissed A Boy?!" Or Shit My Brother Says
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Friday, May 22, 2015
"Friends Don't Tell Friends To Go Straight:" Shit My Friends Say
There is a gay young man in one of my college classes who once said that "people take things too personally" when exposed to bigotry and threats. Months later, when he heard that I was starting an "atheist and friends" club at the school, he warned me not to tell another classmate, because the classmate was too argumentative.
"It's like what that priest said in 'The Laramie Project,'" he said gravely, referencing the film we watched in class, "When you say things like that, it IS violence. This guy would make it a very hateful place, and unwelcome to those who believe in...a spirit."*
I agreed not to tell that other classmate. I was amazed that Harrison had actually said that, had actually changed his mind.
Then the other day yet another classmate had a nail stuck in her tire, and she happened to be parked next to me. I was glad for the chance to wait with her and Harrison (who also waited with her), though of course I hated what had happened to her.
"I've been trying to get ahold of my mom, but she's not answering," Harrison said, "I may have to get on a bus."
It warmed my heart to hear him talk about his mom, and it also surprised me. For some reason, I had a feeling that his parents were like those of Peter, a polyamorous Wiccan that I grew up with, who was disowned by his strict Christian family and probably kicked out of the house.
"I can drive you home," I offered. "Where do you live?"
"By Denny's," he answered, referring to the restaurant chain.
"Oh! You live by the goat!" I exclaimed, referring to someone's backyard pet, visible from the road. "My mom loves that goat. She offered to build a house for her last winter, if her owners couldn't, because she didn't have one." (She now has one, which her owners gave her.)
"Oh, yeah--the goat!" he laughed.
I did not know if he would need a ride home, but I hoped so, because I enjoyed visiting with him. As we waited, talking with Katie, I moved my bags to the back seat in anticipation.
It was getting later. "Seriously, you guys don't have to wait with me," Katie repeated. "My mom will be here any minute."
"Well..." I began, torn. "If you're sure..."
Suddenly Harrison looked up from his phone. "I think I will have to take that ride home, after all."
"Okay. Cool." I tried to hide my excitement. I was homeschooled from fifth grade on, and never got to go anywhere with friends, since I was rather isolated and introverted, and especially since I didn't have my driver's license until last fall ( at twenty-three) because of nervousness.
"Just...toss those things aside," I told him as he awkwardly put his backpack beside mine in the backseat.
"Can I roll my window down?" he asked as he got in the car.
"Yeah, do whatever you want," I shrugged. He would later put his foot out the window, so I guess he finally felt comfortable.
"The reason I can't usually go on a bus is that I get dizzy, and I don't know how bad it's going to be until I'm on," he explained as we pulled away.
"Yeah, I can't go on a long trip in the backseat," I sympathized, glad that I wasn't the only one with problems driving and being in cars. I wondered if my long-held fear had actually been mild dizziness.
"I can't remember how to get on the freeway from here; do I go straight?" I asked.
I laughed when he answered, "Well, friends don't tell friends to go straight, but...yeah, just keep going in the direction you're going."
Harrison looked at his phone and started laughing. "My friend and I were arguing about tea the other day, and he said that it's nothing but leaf juice, and that broth was nothing but saltwater. But it has bone marrow and stuff in it too, and it's often flavored with leaves, such as bay leaves, etc."
He sounded just like Cody, my eleven-year-old brother, whom I helped to raised from the time he was three days old. Cody had recently laughed about his friend and him kicking each other under their desks all day and "playing footsie" (he didn't know that it had a flirtatious meaning!). Harrison had never sounded like Cody before, and it surprised me. I made a mental note to myself that I should increase the frequency of the "it's okay, whatever you are" type of conversations with Cody, especially as Cody would be going through puberty at any time now.
"Oh, yeah," I laughed. "That's true."
"And then he texted me and asked, 'What do you call a whorehouse filled with broth?' And I said, 'A broth-full brothel,' and he said 'That's better than what I would have said.' So I guess whatever he would have said, it wasn't as good."
We talked about driving, and I was glad to hear that I was not the only one who gets very anxious around ledges, drop-offs and ditches, especially if I was not the one driving. I enjoyed visiting with him.
"You talked about brothels, did you know the origin of the phrase, 'You've got to be shitting me'?" I asked, getting ready to tell an old joke. "George Washington and his men were crossing the Delaware, and Lieutenant Peters fell in the water and they couldn't find him. So they went on without him, and they came to a house, but they didn't know that the house was a brothel. So the madam opens up the door, and is really pleased to see so many men. She asks how many men there are, and George Washington says, 'There are forty-two of us here without Peters.' And the madam says, 'You've got to be shitting me!'"
It took Harrison a second to get the joke.
"Oh!" he laughed softly. "Just drop me here. This is the little driveway I have to walk down," he finally said. As he got out, I accidentally saw the waistband of his boxers, and the word "Batman" was printed on them. Again, it reminded me of Cody.
Cody was absolutely obsessed with Batman when he was about three years old, and I was about fifteen. We both had masks and capes, and I was "Batman-girl" and "Batman-Wobbin." He would "save" the cat and pretend to beat my mom up because my dad told him that she was The Penguin. I still have my mask, and somewhere we still have his mask and cape (mine was plain, while his had the Batman logo). My mask is a felt purple bat with black sequins, and Cody's is a felt cat face with one pink sequined ear that my mom did not have time to remove before giving it to him. At that age, he was fooled and didn't care.
My mom had to cut the eye holes bigger in the middle, because his head was so small and his eyes were closer together. He asked that my mask be "fixed" too, and my mom told him that we had already fixed it (but we really hadn't, because my head was bigger).
My mom and I had so much fun finding costumes for Cody and me, and he was absolutely thrilled when we played with them, beating up invisible bad guys and posing for pictures with tough faces, spreading our capes out behind us.
I kept this very happy flashback inside of me, though, because it would be very rude and creepy to comment on somebody's underwear.
"Just let me grab my junk," Harrison said, in the present time.
"Sure. You better not grab your junk in public, though," I joked. "Sorry. My mom and I are so dirty all the time..."
"Oh. Okay," he laughed politely. "Thanks."
"See ya, Harrison."
Later that night, I wondered if he had truly made it home safely. I felt protective of him since he now reminded me so much of my little brother (who is often more like my son, or at least that's how it feels), because he did not have a car, and because he had a mom who presumably cared very much about him, as I did about my Cody. I also felt responsible for seeing him home safely, because I had driven him home; I felt like a young man in a 1950s TV show taking his date safely home.
But it would have been way too awkward to ask, "Was there a hate crime in your driveway?"
So I messaged him on Facebook about a project he mentioned doing for the local theater, in which he felt overwhelmed, having to organize the costume department after years of neglect. I said that I wanted to help. It was the truth, and it also served my purpose nicely.
I arrived first the next day. "I saw Katie, so she made it home okay," I said when he arrived. "I brought trash bags, and brownies."
We got to work. After about an hour, he had to go to class.
"Do you have a ride home?" I asked.
"Yeah, I got one," he nodded.
"If you ever need a ride home again, just tell me. I had fun visiting with you last night," I added.
"Oh. Okay. Thanks. See ya."
"Oh, wait! You forgot your brownie!" I exclaimed, giving one of the sandwich baggies to him. "It's gluten-free."
"Oh. Nice!" he laughed.
"I made them last night anyway, so you get one, too," I said. "Have a good class!"
"Oh, I will!" he smiled.
It wasn't until much later that I realized what I had done: I had literally just sent him off to school with a lunch!
Harrison now has two mommies.
*The interview with the priest is one of the more uplifting moments in an otherwise mostly traumatic movie. It starts with one of the (lesbian) interviewers saying, "Great--two queers and a Catholic priest!"
The quote Harrison referred to starts at about 52:37, though the link starts at around 51:33, and I would recommend watching the whole small segment, as the priest also states, among other things, that he did not ask permission from the bishop to hold a vigil because, "His permission does not make it correct. What is correct, is correct."
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?ref=bookmarks
"It's like what that priest said in 'The Laramie Project,'" he said gravely, referencing the film we watched in class, "When you say things like that, it IS violence. This guy would make it a very hateful place, and unwelcome to those who believe in...a spirit."*
I agreed not to tell that other classmate. I was amazed that Harrison had actually said that, had actually changed his mind.
Then the other day yet another classmate had a nail stuck in her tire, and she happened to be parked next to me. I was glad for the chance to wait with her and Harrison (who also waited with her), though of course I hated what had happened to her.
"I've been trying to get ahold of my mom, but she's not answering," Harrison said, "I may have to get on a bus."
It warmed my heart to hear him talk about his mom, and it also surprised me. For some reason, I had a feeling that his parents were like those of Peter, a polyamorous Wiccan that I grew up with, who was disowned by his strict Christian family and probably kicked out of the house.
"I can drive you home," I offered. "Where do you live?"
"By Denny's," he answered, referring to the restaurant chain.
"Oh! You live by the goat!" I exclaimed, referring to someone's backyard pet, visible from the road. "My mom loves that goat. She offered to build a house for her last winter, if her owners couldn't, because she didn't have one." (She now has one, which her owners gave her.)
"Oh, yeah--the goat!" he laughed.
I did not know if he would need a ride home, but I hoped so, because I enjoyed visiting with him. As we waited, talking with Katie, I moved my bags to the back seat in anticipation.
It was getting later. "Seriously, you guys don't have to wait with me," Katie repeated. "My mom will be here any minute."
"Well..." I began, torn. "If you're sure..."
Suddenly Harrison looked up from his phone. "I think I will have to take that ride home, after all."
"Okay. Cool." I tried to hide my excitement. I was homeschooled from fifth grade on, and never got to go anywhere with friends, since I was rather isolated and introverted, and especially since I didn't have my driver's license until last fall ( at twenty-three) because of nervousness.
"Just...toss those things aside," I told him as he awkwardly put his backpack beside mine in the backseat.
"Can I roll my window down?" he asked as he got in the car.
"Yeah, do whatever you want," I shrugged. He would later put his foot out the window, so I guess he finally felt comfortable.
"The reason I can't usually go on a bus is that I get dizzy, and I don't know how bad it's going to be until I'm on," he explained as we pulled away.
"Yeah, I can't go on a long trip in the backseat," I sympathized, glad that I wasn't the only one with problems driving and being in cars. I wondered if my long-held fear had actually been mild dizziness.
"I can't remember how to get on the freeway from here; do I go straight?" I asked.
I laughed when he answered, "Well, friends don't tell friends to go straight, but...yeah, just keep going in the direction you're going."
Harrison looked at his phone and started laughing. "My friend and I were arguing about tea the other day, and he said that it's nothing but leaf juice, and that broth was nothing but saltwater. But it has bone marrow and stuff in it too, and it's often flavored with leaves, such as bay leaves, etc."
He sounded just like Cody, my eleven-year-old brother, whom I helped to raised from the time he was three days old. Cody had recently laughed about his friend and him kicking each other under their desks all day and "playing footsie" (he didn't know that it had a flirtatious meaning!). Harrison had never sounded like Cody before, and it surprised me. I made a mental note to myself that I should increase the frequency of the "it's okay, whatever you are" type of conversations with Cody, especially as Cody would be going through puberty at any time now.
"Oh, yeah," I laughed. "That's true."
"And then he texted me and asked, 'What do you call a whorehouse filled with broth?' And I said, 'A broth-full brothel,' and he said 'That's better than what I would have said.' So I guess whatever he would have said, it wasn't as good."
We talked about driving, and I was glad to hear that I was not the only one who gets very anxious around ledges, drop-offs and ditches, especially if I was not the one driving. I enjoyed visiting with him.
"You talked about brothels, did you know the origin of the phrase, 'You've got to be shitting me'?" I asked, getting ready to tell an old joke. "George Washington and his men were crossing the Delaware, and Lieutenant Peters fell in the water and they couldn't find him. So they went on without him, and they came to a house, but they didn't know that the house was a brothel. So the madam opens up the door, and is really pleased to see so many men. She asks how many men there are, and George Washington says, 'There are forty-two of us here without Peters.' And the madam says, 'You've got to be shitting me!'"
It took Harrison a second to get the joke.
"Oh!" he laughed softly. "Just drop me here. This is the little driveway I have to walk down," he finally said. As he got out, I accidentally saw the waistband of his boxers, and the word "Batman" was printed on them. Again, it reminded me of Cody.
Cody was absolutely obsessed with Batman when he was about three years old, and I was about fifteen. We both had masks and capes, and I was "Batman-girl" and "Batman-Wobbin." He would "save" the cat and pretend to beat my mom up because my dad told him that she was The Penguin. I still have my mask, and somewhere we still have his mask and cape (mine was plain, while his had the Batman logo). My mask is a felt purple bat with black sequins, and Cody's is a felt cat face with one pink sequined ear that my mom did not have time to remove before giving it to him. At that age, he was fooled and didn't care.
My mom had to cut the eye holes bigger in the middle, because his head was so small and his eyes were closer together. He asked that my mask be "fixed" too, and my mom told him that we had already fixed it (but we really hadn't, because my head was bigger).
My mom and I had so much fun finding costumes for Cody and me, and he was absolutely thrilled when we played with them, beating up invisible bad guys and posing for pictures with tough faces, spreading our capes out behind us.
I kept this very happy flashback inside of me, though, because it would be very rude and creepy to comment on somebody's underwear.
"Just let me grab my junk," Harrison said, in the present time.
"Sure. You better not grab your junk in public, though," I joked. "Sorry. My mom and I are so dirty all the time..."
"Oh. Okay," he laughed politely. "Thanks."
"See ya, Harrison."
Later that night, I wondered if he had truly made it home safely. I felt protective of him since he now reminded me so much of my little brother (who is often more like my son, or at least that's how it feels), because he did not have a car, and because he had a mom who presumably cared very much about him, as I did about my Cody. I also felt responsible for seeing him home safely, because I had driven him home; I felt like a young man in a 1950s TV show taking his date safely home.
But it would have been way too awkward to ask, "Was there a hate crime in your driveway?"
So I messaged him on Facebook about a project he mentioned doing for the local theater, in which he felt overwhelmed, having to organize the costume department after years of neglect. I said that I wanted to help. It was the truth, and it also served my purpose nicely.
I arrived first the next day. "I saw Katie, so she made it home okay," I said when he arrived. "I brought trash bags, and brownies."
We got to work. After about an hour, he had to go to class.
"Do you have a ride home?" I asked.
"Yeah, I got one," he nodded.
"If you ever need a ride home again, just tell me. I had fun visiting with you last night," I added.
"Oh. Okay. Thanks. See ya."
"Oh, wait! You forgot your brownie!" I exclaimed, giving one of the sandwich baggies to him. "It's gluten-free."
"Oh. Nice!" he laughed.
"I made them last night anyway, so you get one, too," I said. "Have a good class!"
"Oh, I will!" he smiled.
It wasn't until much later that I realized what I had done: I had literally just sent him off to school with a lunch!
Harrison now has two mommies.
*The interview with the priest is one of the more uplifting moments in an otherwise mostly traumatic movie. It starts with one of the (lesbian) interviewers saying, "Great--two queers and a Catholic priest!"
The quote Harrison referred to starts at about 52:37, though the link starts at around 51:33, and I would recommend watching the whole small segment, as the priest also states, among other things, that he did not ask permission from the bishop to hold a vigil because, "His permission does not make it correct. What is correct, is correct."
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?ref=bookmarks
Friday, May 8, 2015
"I Can Hear It In Your Voice"
I recently attended a "Safe Space Workshop" for LGBTQ allies at my community college. At one point we talked about families, and I mentioned my own, wondering how they would react if they knew I no longer believed. My parents are supportive, but my extended family often bothers and worries me.
"I can hear it in your voice," the woman in charge of the workshop nodded. I had not realized that my voice was cracking so much.
Part of the problem is being physically afraid of one relative, due to being picked on by him ruthlessly as a child. Though he of course has some good qualities, he is the most homophobic, in my estimation, and the one most likely to be condescending and arrogant about any differences in belief (as he has before, even when I was a Christian).
On one of the last few occasions that I saw him, Fox News happened to be playing in the background (which my grandfather was watching), and the subject inevitably turned to everything that is wrong with Obama. One of the pieces of evidence, that Obama was becoming too powerful and forcing his communist-like "agenda" on America? The fact that he promoted the idea that "being gay is okay."
"And I'm with Tim on this one," my relation added, talking about a pastor friend of his, "I don't care if they're gay, just stay in the closet!" he laughed. "The way they're flaunting it now..."
"I don't agree with that," I said quietly, my heart racing. "They're not flaunting it..."
"Yes, they are..."
"No. They're not..."
He nodded, and I shook my head, as the subject trailed off, and he mentioned yet another fault of Obama.
That was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and the scariest, yet it doesn't feel like enough. It never feels like I have stood up to my family enough.
On the way home, my mother and I were talking about what had happened. She had also argued with him about the Rapture (she doesn't believe that it's a very sound doctrine), and both she and I about the "lost gospels." It was my impression that he accepted whatever his favorite speakers or pastors said at face value, and thought that that was enough--and that I was a foolish child for thinking otherwise.
"I'm not casting my pearls before swine," my mother said, shaking her head. "He just doesn't want to listen."
"If we keep arguing like this, I might let it slip to our family sometime that I consider myself an atheist," I added. "Would that be okay with you?" I asked, a little nervous. I thought that she would be okay with it, but wanted to warn her ahead of time and make sure.
"Be yourself!" she enunciated. "That's fine by me; you'll get the sad looks, and not me!" she scoffed facetiously.
It's hard to get over the hurdle of being afraid to speak up, afraid of being hit or physically intimidated. Though I don't think he would hit me or physically threaten me today, especially since I have taken two years of martial arts and have fiercely, violently protective parents, the fear is still there. It may be there for a while, until I feel more comfortable and get more confidence speaking my mind, as he often does.
But I decided to buy two flag pins, an LGBTQ rainbow pride flag and a bisexual pride flag, to wear to family functions, and therefore "flaunt it."
The rainbow flag will probably be easily recognized, while the bisexual flag will probably need explaining, which I would be happy to do if asked.
I don't know if he will notice the tiny pins, or say anything, but a couple of my relatives often wear Christian parody t-shirts, so why can't I wear my beliefs on my sleeve as well?
It will be good for my younger cousins to see that I don't parrot the Official Family Opinion. I don't have to say anything unless asked, either. But it potentially provides a good opportunity to be open about both my beliefs and my sexuality, as well.
I also received a rainbow ribbon pin for attending the LGBTQ workshop, so that I have three pins to wear now. I would be happy to explain how I got the workshop pin, too.
My mom laughed when I told her that I got the bisexual flag pin because I thought I was bi, but even if I wasn't, I would still say that I was in front of our family. I have been majorly spanked in the comment sections of pro-gay articles for suggesting that very tactic, but I do think that people who are straight and are in a good place to do so could benefit the LGBTQ community by telling their bigoted family members that they are bi.
One person said that that was not a good idea because some people saw bisexuality as a betrayal, for not "choosing" one gender. I say, that's all the more reason to do so! I'm not talking about Facebook statuses or marching in pride parades, being "in the closet" in reverse. I'm talking about dropping a bombshell, shocking your friends and family to hopefully make it easier on those not in such good situations.
I have supportive friends and family, while others do not. If I can "take the fall" for others and be the one to give my family their Tolerance Training Wheels, I would be one very happy woman. And if my family hears of my bisexuality and decides to tell me what to do, I hope I can remember to say that I don't recall making them my lord and savior, that I didn't ask for their Ten Commandments, and that what I do is between me and God, not me and them (because I still think about God sometimes, though I think that practically speaking, from what we know now, God is not likely to exist).
I do have some hope for my family, though: Though he tends to ask my mother and me to come to church with him every few months, and is a worrier, my grandfather did express support for a lesbian couple a few months ago.
My grandmother mentioned a woman my mother knew, and added, "I guess her daughter moved in with her girlfriend."
"Oh, I don't care about that, Mom," my own mom replied, "I'm just glad they both found someone to love."
"That's right!" my grandfather agreed, strongly.
My mom says she almost fell off her chair.
I guess that couple goes to church.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?ref=bookmarks
"I can hear it in your voice," the woman in charge of the workshop nodded. I had not realized that my voice was cracking so much.
Part of the problem is being physically afraid of one relative, due to being picked on by him ruthlessly as a child. Though he of course has some good qualities, he is the most homophobic, in my estimation, and the one most likely to be condescending and arrogant about any differences in belief (as he has before, even when I was a Christian).
On one of the last few occasions that I saw him, Fox News happened to be playing in the background (which my grandfather was watching), and the subject inevitably turned to everything that is wrong with Obama. One of the pieces of evidence, that Obama was becoming too powerful and forcing his communist-like "agenda" on America? The fact that he promoted the idea that "being gay is okay."
"And I'm with Tim on this one," my relation added, talking about a pastor friend of his, "I don't care if they're gay, just stay in the closet!" he laughed. "The way they're flaunting it now..."
"I don't agree with that," I said quietly, my heart racing. "They're not flaunting it..."
"Yes, they are..."
"No. They're not..."
He nodded, and I shook my head, as the subject trailed off, and he mentioned yet another fault of Obama.
That was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and the scariest, yet it doesn't feel like enough. It never feels like I have stood up to my family enough.
On the way home, my mother and I were talking about what had happened. She had also argued with him about the Rapture (she doesn't believe that it's a very sound doctrine), and both she and I about the "lost gospels." It was my impression that he accepted whatever his favorite speakers or pastors said at face value, and thought that that was enough--and that I was a foolish child for thinking otherwise.
"I'm not casting my pearls before swine," my mother said, shaking her head. "He just doesn't want to listen."
"If we keep arguing like this, I might let it slip to our family sometime that I consider myself an atheist," I added. "Would that be okay with you?" I asked, a little nervous. I thought that she would be okay with it, but wanted to warn her ahead of time and make sure.
"Be yourself!" she enunciated. "That's fine by me; you'll get the sad looks, and not me!" she scoffed facetiously.
It's hard to get over the hurdle of being afraid to speak up, afraid of being hit or physically intimidated. Though I don't think he would hit me or physically threaten me today, especially since I have taken two years of martial arts and have fiercely, violently protective parents, the fear is still there. It may be there for a while, until I feel more comfortable and get more confidence speaking my mind, as he often does.
But I decided to buy two flag pins, an LGBTQ rainbow pride flag and a bisexual pride flag, to wear to family functions, and therefore "flaunt it."
The rainbow flag will probably be easily recognized, while the bisexual flag will probably need explaining, which I would be happy to do if asked.
I don't know if he will notice the tiny pins, or say anything, but a couple of my relatives often wear Christian parody t-shirts, so why can't I wear my beliefs on my sleeve as well?
It will be good for my younger cousins to see that I don't parrot the Official Family Opinion. I don't have to say anything unless asked, either. But it potentially provides a good opportunity to be open about both my beliefs and my sexuality, as well.
I also received a rainbow ribbon pin for attending the LGBTQ workshop, so that I have three pins to wear now. I would be happy to explain how I got the workshop pin, too.
My mom laughed when I told her that I got the bisexual flag pin because I thought I was bi, but even if I wasn't, I would still say that I was in front of our family. I have been majorly spanked in the comment sections of pro-gay articles for suggesting that very tactic, but I do think that people who are straight and are in a good place to do so could benefit the LGBTQ community by telling their bigoted family members that they are bi.
One person said that that was not a good idea because some people saw bisexuality as a betrayal, for not "choosing" one gender. I say, that's all the more reason to do so! I'm not talking about Facebook statuses or marching in pride parades, being "in the closet" in reverse. I'm talking about dropping a bombshell, shocking your friends and family to hopefully make it easier on those not in such good situations.
I have supportive friends and family, while others do not. If I can "take the fall" for others and be the one to give my family their Tolerance Training Wheels, I would be one very happy woman. And if my family hears of my bisexuality and decides to tell me what to do, I hope I can remember to say that I don't recall making them my lord and savior, that I didn't ask for their Ten Commandments, and that what I do is between me and God, not me and them (because I still think about God sometimes, though I think that practically speaking, from what we know now, God is not likely to exist).
I do have some hope for my family, though: Though he tends to ask my mother and me to come to church with him every few months, and is a worrier, my grandfather did express support for a lesbian couple a few months ago.
My grandmother mentioned a woman my mother knew, and added, "I guess her daughter moved in with her girlfriend."
"Oh, I don't care about that, Mom," my own mom replied, "I'm just glad they both found someone to love."
"That's right!" my grandfather agreed, strongly.
My mom says she almost fell off her chair.
I guess that couple goes to church.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?ref=bookmarks
If
If: A Manifesto:
If God exists, she is not as powerful in this realm as many believe her to be. She deals in the afterlife and has little influence in this world. She does what she can, and grieves for what she cannot do.
If God exists, she is not so sexist that it is an insult to her to be called a She. She has both male and female characteristics, and one side is not dominate to or more important than the other. It's actually refreshing to her, to have her female side finally acknowledged.
If God exists, she has a healthy sense of humor about herself, and does not mind jokes or criticism directed her way.
If God exists, she does not condemn or allow anyone to be subjected to eternal torment (even her divine servants who have rebelled against her, such as Lucifer, if she exists). She takes special care of suicide victims and other victims of violence. All receive exactly what they need for both healing and humanizing.
If God exists, she grieves at the doctrines that promote or excuse violence or bigotry, such as the belief in hell, the belief that believers of a certain sect are more special or righteous than others, or any doctrine that sees anyone as condemned, deserving of special punishment or torment, such as racism, sexism and anti-LGBTQ sentiments.
If God exists, she loves her gay children. She loves all of her children, though some grieve her by the harm they inflict on others.
If God exists, she does not nor ever has made some rules for one type of people, and another set of rules for others. All are equal. She has not made the straight person for the holiness and the sexual "joining together" of marriage, and the gay person for the hardship of lifelong celibacy. She has not given the option of sexual fulfillment to some but not to others. Likewise, she has not made the woman for the hardship of "submission," and the man for the very easy task of showing love to his slave, the wife.
If God exists, she loves me.
If God exists, she approves of me. She even approves of my atheism and my skepticism.
If God exists, I have a good relationship with her.
If God exists, she made me this way for a reason, and she put my clitoris on the outside for me to enjoy.
If God exists, I trust her with my soul when I die.
If God exists, it doesn't matter if you call her Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Shiva, Zeus, or Venus, male or female, gay or straight. Even if she "is" one of those things, or something else entirely, she understands if we get confused, and she doesn't condemn us for it.
I think a lot about God, about IF she exists. I have no fear for my soul, because I have a good "relationship" with God. I trust her.
But at the same time, when I think practically about God, and about what little we know now, I don't think it's likely that she exists. I don't think it's likely that we'll ever find out that she exists, either.
I have two minds about God: The "spiritual" side, I suppose it would be called, and the practical side. Having an "IF" side does not make me any less of an atheist, or any less logical. I do not make my decisions based upon the "IF." I do not base my life upon or do anything impractical because of the "IF."
The "IF" is comforting to me sometimes, but it is not something to rely upon. While I sometimes take comfort and security in the "IF," especially when others are worried about my soul...I plan for the "IF NOT."
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?ref=bookmarks
If God exists, she is not as powerful in this realm as many believe her to be. She deals in the afterlife and has little influence in this world. She does what she can, and grieves for what she cannot do.
If God exists, she is not so sexist that it is an insult to her to be called a She. She has both male and female characteristics, and one side is not dominate to or more important than the other. It's actually refreshing to her, to have her female side finally acknowledged.
If God exists, she has a healthy sense of humor about herself, and does not mind jokes or criticism directed her way.
If God exists, she does not condemn or allow anyone to be subjected to eternal torment (even her divine servants who have rebelled against her, such as Lucifer, if she exists). She takes special care of suicide victims and other victims of violence. All receive exactly what they need for both healing and humanizing.
If God exists, she grieves at the doctrines that promote or excuse violence or bigotry, such as the belief in hell, the belief that believers of a certain sect are more special or righteous than others, or any doctrine that sees anyone as condemned, deserving of special punishment or torment, such as racism, sexism and anti-LGBTQ sentiments.
If God exists, she loves her gay children. She loves all of her children, though some grieve her by the harm they inflict on others.
If God exists, she does not nor ever has made some rules for one type of people, and another set of rules for others. All are equal. She has not made the straight person for the holiness and the sexual "joining together" of marriage, and the gay person for the hardship of lifelong celibacy. She has not given the option of sexual fulfillment to some but not to others. Likewise, she has not made the woman for the hardship of "submission," and the man for the very easy task of showing love to his slave, the wife.
If God exists, she loves me.
If God exists, she approves of me. She even approves of my atheism and my skepticism.
If God exists, I have a good relationship with her.
If God exists, she made me this way for a reason, and she put my clitoris on the outside for me to enjoy.
If God exists, I trust her with my soul when I die.
If God exists, it doesn't matter if you call her Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Shiva, Zeus, or Venus, male or female, gay or straight. Even if she "is" one of those things, or something else entirely, she understands if we get confused, and she doesn't condemn us for it.
I think a lot about God, about IF she exists. I have no fear for my soul, because I have a good "relationship" with God. I trust her.
But at the same time, when I think practically about God, and about what little we know now, I don't think it's likely that she exists. I don't think it's likely that we'll ever find out that she exists, either.
I have two minds about God: The "spiritual" side, I suppose it would be called, and the practical side. Having an "IF" side does not make me any less of an atheist, or any less logical. I do not make my decisions based upon the "IF." I do not base my life upon or do anything impractical because of the "IF."
The "IF" is comforting to me sometimes, but it is not something to rely upon. While I sometimes take comfort and security in the "IF," especially when others are worried about my soul...I plan for the "IF NOT."
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?ref=bookmarks
Thursday, May 7, 2015
This Blog Has Changed My Life
Around this time last year, my mother got tired of my discussing religion all of the time, and said that she did not want to talk about it with me anymore (we talk about it all the time again now). She had always been the only one that I really felt I could confide in, and I had been thinking about this subject a lot, discovering so many new things thanks to atheist personalities on the internet.
And now I had no one to talk to about those things.
I was pretty desperate. I had to do something.
I had so many thoughts about the blogs I read and the videos I saw, and the ideas they presented, but the thought of setting up various online accounts and sharing my opinions with strangers was very intimidating. I wondered if my reasoning was sound or if I would look dumb.
But I had so much to say, and think about, and I wanted something of what these other people had: A forum for their thoughts, a community of like-minded people, the respect of others. Someday, I wanted a blog, or to write a book, or to make videos. But the thought of figuring out how to go about any of these things, and put my thoughts out there, was daunting and confusing.
Someday I wanted to have a small piece of the internet, and I wanted the courage to share an important part of myself with others. And now I had nowhere else to turn, if I wished to discuss matters very dear to my heart.
Then late one night in May of 2014 I decided to take the plunge. Reading about religion and atheism just wasn't doing it for me anymore. I had to do something more, and this time (for the first time in my life) without the support of my parents.
I was extremely nervous, afraid that my dad would find out what I did on his computer (I didn't know if he would care, but I didn't want him, or anyone, to know, because I was venturing into unknown territory). This was the first time that I had made any major decision without my parents' knowledge, and it felt like a huge rebellion. I worried that this was the wrong choice, I worried that my mother would hate what I did if she found out, I worried that I would say something I regretted or reveal too much about my loved ones.
I have always known that she loved me, but she didn't seem to understand why I was so fascinated with the subjects of religion and atheism. I think she thought that I had an unhealthy fixation (maybe anger or bitterness over what had happened to me), and she may not have understood how important this was for me.
"What am I going to do?" I thought when she said that she did not wish to discuss these things anymore. "She is the only one I can confide in, and now I have no one."
So, with much trepidation, I got myself another Gmail account. Then I used that to get myself a Blogger site of the same name. Unfortunately, it was very late at night, and I spelled both of these as "Atheist Journies." I was able to correct my mistake; however, I have a now-defunct blog named "Atheist Journies," and an unused email account to match.
I had wondered for a while what to call my blog, what my handle online would be, what I would write about, and if I could keep up the writing regularly, or if I would someday run out of things to say.
I wanted a username online that would be emotionally significant to me, and that I wouldn't outgrow in a few months or years. I often wondered what made people choose names like "Angry Atheist," "Atheist Canuck," or "The Darwinist." I didn't really feel strongly towards words like "reason," "Darwin," or "logic." I wanted something that fitted me, not just atheism.
"I am an atheist now," I thought. "Though I never thought I would ever be here, years ago. And I don't know what I'll be in a few years, though I think I have an idea of it..."
Basically, this was where I was in my journey.
My life has changed so much in the past year. I have changed so much. I have my driver's license, after years of not having the courage to take my test. I am trying to start an atheist club at my community college (which is why I haven't been publishing very frequently lately), and having to approach strangers, admit that I'm an atheist, and ask for their signatures for the petition (and it's scary, but I'm slowly but surely doing it). I am publishing Accelerated Christian Education gay fan fiction, which as far as I know is the first ACE fan fiction on the internet. I am on Twitter and Disqus, and often debate Christians on these forums.
My mom asked me recently what I thought had made me so confident, in the past year. I knew, but I'm afraid I didn't answer the question with complete honesty. I confide almost everything to my mom, but for once it's nice to have something all to myself. It was one small act of independence, and it led to many bigger things.
My point is this: If you're thinking of starting a blog, whatever the subject matter, please do. You won't lose interest, if it's something you're passionate about. It will make you feel more independent, if that is what you need in your life. It will give you a place to share your thoughts, if that is what you need in your life. And the thought that your ideas and opinions are "published," for the world to see, even if you are the one publishing them and only a few people see, will give you a bit more confidence than you already have. And if you publish anonymously (as I am, for now, though I don't plan to always do so), you can be yourself, where you might be afraid to otherwise.
I still struggle with confidence issues, and I still wonder often if what I say is dumb. But I have come a long way, and I would encourage anyone in my former position to take that first step. You won't regret it.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?ref=bookmarks
And now I had no one to talk to about those things.
I was pretty desperate. I had to do something.
I had so many thoughts about the blogs I read and the videos I saw, and the ideas they presented, but the thought of setting up various online accounts and sharing my opinions with strangers was very intimidating. I wondered if my reasoning was sound or if I would look dumb.
But I had so much to say, and think about, and I wanted something of what these other people had: A forum for their thoughts, a community of like-minded people, the respect of others. Someday, I wanted a blog, or to write a book, or to make videos. But the thought of figuring out how to go about any of these things, and put my thoughts out there, was daunting and confusing.
Someday I wanted to have a small piece of the internet, and I wanted the courage to share an important part of myself with others. And now I had nowhere else to turn, if I wished to discuss matters very dear to my heart.
Then late one night in May of 2014 I decided to take the plunge. Reading about religion and atheism just wasn't doing it for me anymore. I had to do something more, and this time (for the first time in my life) without the support of my parents.
I was extremely nervous, afraid that my dad would find out what I did on his computer (I didn't know if he would care, but I didn't want him, or anyone, to know, because I was venturing into unknown territory). This was the first time that I had made any major decision without my parents' knowledge, and it felt like a huge rebellion. I worried that this was the wrong choice, I worried that my mother would hate what I did if she found out, I worried that I would say something I regretted or reveal too much about my loved ones.
I have always known that she loved me, but she didn't seem to understand why I was so fascinated with the subjects of religion and atheism. I think she thought that I had an unhealthy fixation (maybe anger or bitterness over what had happened to me), and she may not have understood how important this was for me.
"What am I going to do?" I thought when she said that she did not wish to discuss these things anymore. "She is the only one I can confide in, and now I have no one."
So, with much trepidation, I got myself another Gmail account. Then I used that to get myself a Blogger site of the same name. Unfortunately, it was very late at night, and I spelled both of these as "Atheist Journies." I was able to correct my mistake; however, I have a now-defunct blog named "Atheist Journies," and an unused email account to match.
I had wondered for a while what to call my blog, what my handle online would be, what I would write about, and if I could keep up the writing regularly, or if I would someday run out of things to say.
I wanted a username online that would be emotionally significant to me, and that I wouldn't outgrow in a few months or years. I often wondered what made people choose names like "Angry Atheist," "Atheist Canuck," or "The Darwinist." I didn't really feel strongly towards words like "reason," "Darwin," or "logic." I wanted something that fitted me, not just atheism.
"I am an atheist now," I thought. "Though I never thought I would ever be here, years ago. And I don't know what I'll be in a few years, though I think I have an idea of it..."
Basically, this was where I was in my journey.
My life has changed so much in the past year. I have changed so much. I have my driver's license, after years of not having the courage to take my test. I am trying to start an atheist club at my community college (which is why I haven't been publishing very frequently lately), and having to approach strangers, admit that I'm an atheist, and ask for their signatures for the petition (and it's scary, but I'm slowly but surely doing it). I am publishing Accelerated Christian Education gay fan fiction, which as far as I know is the first ACE fan fiction on the internet. I am on Twitter and Disqus, and often debate Christians on these forums.
My mom asked me recently what I thought had made me so confident, in the past year. I knew, but I'm afraid I didn't answer the question with complete honesty. I confide almost everything to my mom, but for once it's nice to have something all to myself. It was one small act of independence, and it led to many bigger things.
My point is this: If you're thinking of starting a blog, whatever the subject matter, please do. You won't lose interest, if it's something you're passionate about. It will make you feel more independent, if that is what you need in your life. It will give you a place to share your thoughts, if that is what you need in your life. And the thought that your ideas and opinions are "published," for the world to see, even if you are the one publishing them and only a few people see, will give you a bit more confidence than you already have. And if you publish anonymously (as I am, for now, though I don't plan to always do so), you can be yourself, where you might be afraid to otherwise.
I still struggle with confidence issues, and I still wonder often if what I say is dumb. But I have come a long way, and I would encourage anyone in my former position to take that first step. You won't regret it.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I also have a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Atheist-Journeys/1543588489197291?ref=bookmarks
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)