Evangelicals Were Never Worthy of My Friendship

I’m an atheist. Born and raised. And being a good person has always been a deeply embedded value for me. Growing up I was the goody two shoes who never talked in class and was careful to follow the rules. I was the kid teachers told my parents they wished they had a thousand of in class. My atheist parents are good people, my mom worked for nonprofits, I remember how when my mom heard that one of my sister’s classmates couldn’t afford a band instrument and was bullied for having to use the schools my mom went and donated an instrument to her. I remember them pulling over to help a stranded motorist when his tire blew, and my mom administering first aide when someone had a seizure in a movie theater. I also can’t even begin to count the number of stray dogs, cats, even hamsters we have rescued. Moreover, while my friends didn’t get along with their parents or found their parents abusive, I got along with mine and they were loving. We were a family that had a lot of fun together.

So, growing up in the Bible Belt, it hurt a lot when people told me that families like mine were immoral, that we couldn’t be happy or loving, that only Christians could be moral, happy loving people. For one thing is invalidated my whole life experience. For another it attacked the core of who I consider myself to be: a good person.

I believe Christians can be good people. But I don’t believe they have the monopoly on morality. Muslims can be good people. Jews can be good people. Pagans can be good people. Atheists can be good people. And, growing up, the way Christians would claim the moral monopoly, and on such scant evidence, hurt.

It felt as though no evidence of morality on the part of my family and me was enough. Because of what we believed we had to be evil. None of us have been arrested, I don’t even spank my kids (and was not spanked growing up) much less hit or attack others. We volunteer, especially because we believe that there’s no magic god who will fix the world’s problems, we believe we have to act to fix things. And in a lot of ways, this made it harder for me, because I was known as a good kid in school, and the dissonance that Christians who found out about my atheism felt was such that they would stop having anything to do with me and would shun me. They couldn’t point to concrete ways I was destroying my life. My family was more functional than theirs. So I was proof that everything they had been taught was wrong, and for that they had to cut me off. For being a good person who happened to be an atheist I was shunned.

Because of this, I can’t even begin to describe what it is like to see Trump come to power, enabled and supported by those evangelicals who would shun me for having beliefs they disagreed with while upholding good moral values. It’s taken me this long to write about it without feeling overwhelming hurt and anger. Still, hurt doesn’t begin to describe it. I don’t think there is a word that can describe it. It is beyond hypocrisy. It is a focus on appearance and conformity rather than genuine compassion and caring, because apparently professing belief is what matters to evangelicals. Lying, philandering, inciting violence, enabling antisemitism and racism, bullying, tearing children from their parents and locking them in cages, etc, that is all okay to evangelicals, as long as someone professes to have a special relationship with Jesus.

Those evangelicals were never worthy of my friendship.

 

How We Failed the Franks

This Father’s Day I’d like to talk about a man I admire. His name was Otto Frank. After his two beloved daughters were murdered during the Holocaust, he made it his life’s work to see that it would never happen again by publishing and promoting the diary his daughter, Anne, wrote while they were in hiding. Most people are familiar with Anne Frank’s diary. Not a lot of people are familiar with Otto Frank’s story. And given what is currently happening in the United States with the detaining of migrant children, we need to learn more about Otto Frank’s story.

Otto Frank was a man who loved his daughters very much. At a time when men weren’t expected to take care of children, he was noted for doting on his daughters, and Anne talks about him fondly in her diary. As the daughter of a father who was like Otto Frank in that he doted on his daughters, I related to that aspect, and I can only imagine how painful what Mr. Frank went through was by imagining how it would be for my dad.

Here’s the other thing people don’t know about Otto Frank. He tried hard to out run the Nazis. The Franks were from Germany, and with the rise of Nazism, they fled to Holland. They had thought Hitler would never have succeeded in conquering Holland and that they would be safe there. Only they weren’t.

When it became clear that they weren’t safe, Otto Frank tried hard to get his family out. One thing he tried was to get them to America, and even had family living in America advocate to get them there. The Franks were denied asylum. I strongly urge you to watch the documentary No Asylum which chronicle’s the Frank’s failed attempt.

Why were they denied asylum? Fear. People has made Jews the boogeyman that we continue to make immigrants today. The language people used against Jews then is the same language people use against immigrants now.

“But wait! The Franks didn’t break the law!” you might say. Yes, they did. Going into hiding was illegal. Failing to report to the concentration camps was illegal. Miep Gies, who helped to hide them, had to use counterfeit food ration cards to feed them. It was illegal.

When the law is not just and when the law does not allow for your survival, then you have to break the law or die.

“But wait! No one is being killed in the camps!”

The Holocaust didn’t start with people in camps being killed. At first Hitler just wanted Jewish people outside of his borders. But when no one else would take them, killing them became the final solution.

Here’s what wounds me. Otto Frank went to extraordinary lengths to keep his family safe. And he failed. When he was liberated from Auschwitz, he was hopeful he would be reunited with his family. He knew several of the men he had hidden in the annex with were dead. On his way home to Holland, he learned that his wife had died, but he was still hopeful for his girls. He spent six months hopeful that Anne and Margot would come home as he gradually learned one by one that he was the only one of the eight to survive. He eventually tracked down someone who had been at Bergen-Belsen with his daughters. He came home from that meeting heartbroken and told Miep Gies, “Anne and Margot will not be coming home.”

When I think of the pain of what that moment would have been like, I break down. And he turned that pain into the cause of seeing that it never happened again. I admire that about him.

And then when I look around and I see the path this country I live in is going, I despair.

Watch “No Asylum.” Read Anne Frank Remembered. Read The Hidden Life of Otto Frank. Look at what happened then and see what is happening now. For the longest time I told myself that if we could take something so tragic as the Holocaust and see that it doesn’t happen again then there was hope for redemption. I’m starting to think that we just don’t learn.

This Father’s Day, a lot of men who, like Otto Frank, love their children and went to extreme measures to give them a better life are now separated from them. We need to do better than this.

A Religious Change I Never Expected

For nearly 11 years of marriage, and sixteen years total of being together (dating/engaged/married), Andy and I have been in a mixed race, mixed faith marriage. He is a Roman Catholic, I’m an atheist. I was raised in an atheist family, and never saw the need for religious rituals and the like. Going into the relationship I had to accept Andy was going to remain Roman Catholic and that he was not going to change. For him accepting that I was going to remain an atheist was harder, but I think last year was when he realized the extent of the damage he was doing to our relationship by not accepting it. And the result of this was something I would never have anticipated.

March for Our Lives-FW

 

Marching was the last thing I wanted to do today. But I did it anyway. I joined the March for Our Lives protest in Fort Worth. I was tired, burned out from work, and would have much rather have slept in. But, after years of trying, and failing, to get people to care, now that people are finally giving a damn I can’t in good conscious sit at home and do nothing.

I graduated high school in the much hyped year of 2000. And I wanted to change the world. I wanted to organize for feminist causes. I wrote letters to my representatives, lamented that there were no organizations of like minded individuals in my school. Aside from me, no one seemed to care. Even in college, when the US invaded Iraq, I went to a peace rally that had a grand total of maybe thirty students. Even getting my fellow college students, who would complain about the campus housing constantly (there was only one campus housing complex on my campus, and they took full advantage of that)  to just sign a petition to have more than one option for campus housing was pulling nails, and this was something that impacted us directly! It felt like I was the only one who cared about anything, and trying to get other people to care and organized just got me branded as a nuisance. To this day I just accept that I’m going to speak out alone because no one will stand beside me. It’s lonely, but I can’t in good conscious stay quiet.

I know these movements come in waves. The 90s were a quiet decade to grow up in. I often feel like I was born at the wrong time. Now I have two small children and it is hard for me to join protests and be as active as I would like because of it. And it also feels like it’s never been more important to do so, because the changes I make now can benefit my kids in the future. Consequently, if we DON’T do something about gun violence, global warming, getting Trump out of the White House, etc, then my children are going to suffer greatly.

Yesterday I had a client in crisis, which as any mental health professional will say, is extremely emotionally draining. But the upcoming generation is doing something that people of my generation failed to do: give a damn. So I made a crappy poster even though I was exhausted last night. I put a lot of thought into the words but obviously, not the design. When I woke up I found my son had added his signature on the bottom, which is charming in it’s own way. He’s part of the reason I’m marching, so it was good to have his endorsement. It’s not the prettiest sign, but what matters is that I was there.

And so were thousands of others. Crowd estimates were between 7,000-8,000. There was one counterprotestor, spewing bile on a megaphone he did not have a permit for. While one of the students who organized the march (Lillian Scott) read the names of the Parkland students who were murdered and observed a moment of silence, he kept talking. When Lillian Scott started speaking, she raised her voice to drown him out, and we clapped. He was another example of right wing hypocrisy that will hopefully soon go extinct. The people leading the march are the future.

I used to be proud and excited to be class of 2000. We were supposed to lead the way and usher in an astounding new millennium. We haven’t. Right now I would have traded the empty prestige that came with being the class of 2000 to join a generation that is actually making a difference. I wish I were a part of this new and upcoming generation. Because when I read the multitude of scary headlines the plague our news, reading about them gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

But I’m the One Going to Hell

I was five when I was first told I was going to Hell. A friend’s mom said it to me. A grown woman said that to my five year old self because my parents had recently explained atheism and that they were atheists to me. Let’s just say, I was completely unprepared for the vehemence and hatred with which people would respond when I answered their questions about my belief system.

Of Wounds and Scars

For the past 4 years I have been angry. Raising a child who is disabled has forced me to confront a lot of the traumas I faced growing up while disabled, and then if that wasn’t enough, the 2016 elections happened, which were triggering for me on a whole different level. I was bullied in elementary school, and some people who worked in the schools told my parents it was the worse case of school bullying they had ever seen. Because of this, I never thought of Trump as a joke, I found him triggering and terrifying. And that anyone could vote for him, let alone millions, has brought a lot of trauma to the surface. Basically the message everyone who voted for him sent was that it was okay for him to bully and degrade people, and that so many people in the United States believe that and that I walk among those people has been disillusioning. For the past 4 years I have been angrier than I have ever been, and I’ve had good reasons to be angry. But it is not a natural or a normal state for me, and it’s not how I like to live.

They say write from a scar rather than a wound. And I’ve been writing from wounds until the point where I couldn’t anymore, especially as I don’t think I am terribly effective when writing from a wound, and also because doing so is so painful. Still, time goes on, scars form. I’m still attending protests, voting, and calling my representatives, doing what I can to fight the most dangerous administration I have seen rise to power in my life time. But the anger I feel is no longer as strong. It’s faded to a grim resolve. On the one hand I am horrified that I am no longer furious, because it means that something atrocious has become normalized. On the other hand, anger was consuming me.

I’m a long way from wanting to build bridges, especially as harmful people are in power, people who only care about the rights of rich, white, evangelical men. When people in power want to take away the rights of people who don’t have it, bridge building isn’t going to happen. There are still a lot of fights coming up. I am marching next week against gun violence. I will be voting for leaders who reign in a dangerous despot rather than enable him. And I’m at the point where I can write from a scar.

Either Inspiration or Failure, and Never Normal

The death of Stephen Hawking stirred up some things for me. Seeing him described as so inspirational because of what he did while disabled struck a nerve. Like Hawking, I am disabled, but in a very different way. I am autistic and I have several learning disabilities. Unlike Hawking, I am not a brilliant scientist and I haven’t contributed something amazing to the world.

What I Learned About DNRs

My paternal grandpa died late Thursday night. He was 91. The past 8 days have been a roller coaster. My grandma had gone into the hospital for a blood transfusion, and he’d gone with her because he was too frail to be left on his own. I’d gone to pick them up from the hospital and watch over them for a bit at their assisted living community. When I got to the hospital I noticed my grandpa sitting oddly in a chair and that he couldn’t talk or move. He’d had a massive stroke.

Don’t Fear Halloween

I’m in several Facebook groups with other non-religious mothers, and these have been a lifeline for me. Lately I have noticed a few posts asking how to handle Halloween because they don’t like teaching about magic and make believe. These people seem to be solidly in the minority, with most people commenting that it’s just a time to dress up, get scared, and pretend. Considering Halloween is my favorite holiday, I tend to shake my head a little at how some people seem to think that exposing children to make believe leads to beliefs in the supernatural. I was raised by atheists, and growing up we knew Halloween was pretend and make believe, and we still had fun. And what I think parents are missing when they stress out about Halloween and imaginary play is that it is important for child development to engage in pretend and imaginary play!

Wrapping up the Women’s Convention (I Hope)

I’m still waiting for an official announcement, but several people who have protested Sanders being given such a prominent speaking role at the convention have received emails stating he has been demoted to a panel about resistance organization in the Trump era. Considering that the Women’s March has told so many different stories in an attempt to spin this, they have lost my trust and I am watching them carefully, however, if this is true it will placate me. If he has to be there, resistance organization at least is an appropriate topic for him. That being said, there are several ways I’ve attempted to see the Women’s March spin this.

First, before the apology, they had promoted Sanders as having a big role in the convention.I am not going to let them spin this as that they intended for him to just be a part of a panel discussion all along.

Second, Women’s March organizer, Linda Sarsour, had a livestream denouncing those of us who were upset about Bernie being given a prime spot at the Women’s Convention as racist. I witnessed the outrage from the start, and the criticism about Sanders speaking was very ANTI-racist. For instance,

1. Many women of color were outraged about the decision. In fact, the friend who informed me about this is a woman of color who was just as furious as I was.

2. We were outraged that Bernie was referred to as “Senator” while Rep. Maxine Waters was NOT addressed by the Women’s March promotional material with her title and wondered why Bernie’s achievements were recognized and not hers.

3. From the start, we were asking for a woman or a woman of color to head the convention. Examples that were suggested included Maxine Waters, Kamala Harris, Tammy Duckworth, Elizabeth Warren, Michelle Obama, Kirsten Gillibrand, etc.

4. Most of us agreed that the list of other speakers sounded great, Bernie was the problem.

5. We were mad that Bernie was the ONLY speaker who got a news article with his picture on the front that described him as “opening the convention” and the “headliner.”

6. We were asking why the women who would be speaking were not so honored with a news article, their picture being circulated, etc.

7. We were angry that Rep Maxine Waters words, “reclaiming our time,” were being used to promote a white man.

The outrage over Bernie was not racist and that a white man holds so much privilege that speaking out against him opening and being given such prominent billing at a women’s convention can be spun as racist is, frankly, alarming. Many of us were speaking out because we feel he is a poor advocate for people of color and women. While his focus on issues that affect white men will help everyone, it will not help knock down the barriers that prevent women and people of color from rising at an equal pace with white men, which is one of the many reasons why he is a poor choice to address the Women’s Convention. Bottom line, the criticism of Sanders was anti-racist and anti-sexist, and the Women’s March is harming their cause and alienating supporters by attempting to spin it as such (see the responses to Tamika Mallory’s allegations that she was thrown off a plane if you want an illustration of how doing this is harming their cause).

Finally, some thoughts about this whole debacle. Like a lot of people who supported HRC, I was scared to flaunt it. And during the primary I bit my tongue, a lot. I actually even created a Facebook group for Democrats who wanted him to drop out and separated it from my identity so I could vent my frustrations. Between fear of being harassed and fear of further alienating Sander’s supporters, I think me and a lot of HRC’s supporters suppressed a lot of rage. And there have been articles documenting that HRC had a lot of devoted supporters (the success of Pantsuit Nation?), but they were scared to be open about it. Hence, why she won both the primary and the popular vote by such staggering numbers.

And over this weekend, that rage was released. The Women’s March honoring Sanders was the final straw, and until they issued their apology, 98% of the comments were from people furious over Bernie headlining, and while some were Sander’s supporters who sympathized or did not think it was the right place for him to speak, most of it was from HRC supporters for whom this was the final indignity. Since the election had already happened there was nothing left to lose with unleashing on the people who had been so unforgiving and willing to cause so much damage because their candidate lost. Meanwhile, the Sander’s supporters calls for unity and moving forward rang as extremely hypocritical and too little too late.

I wish I had been more vocal during the primaries. I think the lesson is to not let fear hold you back from only backing your candidate so it is no surprise to people when they win. Basically, if Sanders supporters pull this crap with Kamala Harris, Kirsten Gillibrand, Corey Booker, or whoever runs against him in 2020, I am not going to be silent again.