Diary of a Teenage Atheist

Hi. My name’s Emily and I’m 14. I’ve been athiest for about a year. I haven’t told my parents, and I still go to church with them. I don’t have the heart to tell them. Anyway, I’ve found one other atheist, my best friend. All of my other friends are very religious. I’m afraid to tell them, because a few will probably dump me right off, but I really want to keep them as friends. I want to tell them, but it will get spread around school, and I see what happens to others. I always stay out of religous discussions. What should I do?

Well, Emily, you might be asking the wrong person about this, because I’m not one of those very vocal, “I’m an atheist and everyone knows it!” types. But since you asked, I’ll give you my perspective.

As I’ve mentioned before, I follow a “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy when it comes to my atheism, except when the person is very close to me and I can feel that he or she wouldn’t turn on me upon finding out. I’m not ashamed of my atheism, mind you, it’s just very annoying to have to be armed with counters to various inane arguments all the time (”Then where did the universe come from?” “That’s just a phase, right?” “Why is this world that we live in so beautiful?” and other fun crap). There’s also the risk of making your relationship awkward with whoever it is you’re talking to. Even with people you’ve just met, like what happened with me a week ago at a movie premiere:

TA: “I think this movie would appeal to all denominations. I mean, I’m an atheist and I’m totally interested in seeing this.”

Elderly Woman: “Ah.”

TA: “And what did you say your job was again?”

Elderly Woman: “I’m an organizer at our local parish.”

TA: “I see. Cool.”

[awkward silence ensues; TA and Elderly Woman eventually excuse themselves to go talk to other people]

Let me tell you, though, it’s very liberating to be open about your beliefs, which is why I’m slowly becoming more confident in discussing my atheism with others. I think that’s what you could do, too. You don’t have to have a big “Coming Out” party or anything, just try to work your way into becoming more comfortable about your beliefs.

If you feel like your friends will reject you for being an atheist, you don’t have to tell them just yet. You can approach the friends you feel closer to and try to get a feel of how they might react; for example, you could start by asking them about their thoughts on religion and atheism. This is actually what I did with my religious friend, Martha (”How do you feel about atheists?”), and that went pretty well. I also told my friends from school about my atheism after a long discussion on religion (I had a post here, around November 2007, but I deleted it by accident. *cries*).

I don’t want to resort to cliches here, but I do believe you’ll know the right time when it comes. It’s when you feel like there are a million things you’d rather do with your sixty minutes than go to Mass with your parents. It’s when your upper lip starts to twitch when your friends all agree that “all fags should go to hell.”

It’s all a matter of priorities, Emily. If you feel like preserving your friendships at the expense of keeping your beliefs hidden is the better idea, no one’s stopping you. If you can’t stand it anymore and you feel like you need to speak up, that’s okay, too. There is no right or wrong answer here, it’s completely dependent on what you feel would be better for you.

Let me know how it turns out! And if you feel like my advice isn’t enough, feel free to browse through the comments section, because my readers usually have better ideas than I do.

Hooray, somebody finally wrote in to ask me for advice!

I would have answered this sooner, but my PC frickin’ ate my thousand-word response. Spurred on by the promise of a love letter (yay!), I finally got my lazy ass around to writing a new one. Feel free to give your own input to help Luke out.

Hello, My name is Luke(Kinda obvious). I’m 17, and I currently live in the USA. I guess this fits under personal problems. I’ve been an atheist for awhile now…about 4 months I believe. Before I became an atheist I was a Lutheran, and basically attended church every Sunday. One day I realized that “God” is hurting this world, people fight wars over Religion ect. I finally came out to my mom about a month ago, funny thing is, she said as she grows older she’s been having some atheistic thoughts as well. She basically agrees with most of my ideas and beleifs on religion. I don’t care to tell my dad, since he’s a Lutheran yet he never attends church. I guess my family life is ok, it’s school that is a bitch.

My school is basically very stereotypical. Almost every student in my high school is either a “Red neck” or an extremely religious teenager. Since I don’t care much for trucks or country music I tend to befriend the religious types. I’ve came out about my atheistism to my best friend, he accepted it, didn’t think less of me, told my other two close friends, and they accept it just fine. It’s everyone else that I tend to care about that is a problem. A few days ago I was talking on AIM in a buddy chat room with a few other friends. We were all talking for awhile, and some how Gay Marriage and Religion came up. Of course, all the people were against it, I for one, am for it. I gave them my reason which mainly came out something like this. “You’re against gay marriage because the bible says it’s a sin? Well, the Bible also says a parent is allowed to stone their child if he disobeys, maybe the bible doesn’t have all the answers”.Not sure if that whole stoning thing is actually in the bible, my mom told me, so eh. After a few more statements, they asked if I was an atheist. And being the honest bastard that I am, said I was. Every since then, they’ve all been ignoring me, seeming to look down on me. One ever said I was going to hell, to bad it doesn’t exist eh? They all seem to think I’m a bastard who has no morals what so ever.

So, I’m kinda stuck, basically the whole group of people who I used to consider friends (Besides the 3 I mentioned earlier) Think I’m “evil” or a “satanist” of some sorts. Funny thing is I used to respect a lot of these people and thought they were more intelligent then this. The one person who doesn’t think this way is this one girl, who says she doesn’t hate me or anything for me being an atheist, but she acts like it so the rest of her friends don’t ignore her. I guess I can’t blame her . So I guess this is my real problem, do you think I should just fake being religious again. It would probably be a lot easier on myself if my school didn’t look down upon me. And my best friend’s girlfriend lumps in this crowd, so it’d probably be easier on him since he’s whipped as hell. Or do you think I should just stand up to beliefs, and fuck them all. Funny thing is, I don’t hate or look down upon them for their beliefs. I don’t try to shove my atheistic ways down their throats. I don’t talk behind their back either. Even if I did become their friends again, I’d probably wouldn’t ever respect them the same way again. Damn, looks I’ve rambled. Well, thanks for reading.

First of all, Luke, I admire you for being so honest about your beliefs, even when faced with consequences like that. It definitely takes balls. Hell, you’re more forthcoming than I am — I wouldn’t lie to people and say I’m still Catholic, and I do sign the “Religion” portion of application forms with “Atheist” (that might be technically inaccurate because atheism is not a religion, but whatever), but I practice a “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, and I tend to avoid joining in discussions when they turn to religion. So, good on you for being out and proud.

Being in an environment like that is definitely tough, and I hate that prejudice is still so prevalent, even among young Americans. You say that you like these people despite how they’ve treated you, and that’s all well and good, but…are they really worth keeping as friends? Because if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t bother trying to pander to people who don’t like me anyway. Why would I want to be friends with someone if it meant that I’d always be wondering in the back of my mind if he secretly hates me? Things would be great if you got to be friends with everybody, but real life doesn’t work that way (at least judging from my experience).

Faking being religious may seem like a good idea at first; I did consider it myself for when I go to college. But the more I thought about it, the worse it seemed. If you’ve read even a few entries on this blog, you’d know how little I think of my family, and how my atheism changed their perspective of me. I could have pretended to “find Jesus” again to get back in their good graces (or just get Mother Dearest to stop bitching). But I didn’t, because I realized it would have been <i>pure torture</i> for me, and it became clearer and clearer to me that it just wasn’t worth it. What I did instead was seek solace in my friends, who, no matter what their religions were, accepted me for who I am. I learned to stop caring about what my family thought of me, and once I did that, I finally felt happy with myself. That’s the key question, Luke: What is more important, that they like you, or that you like yourself?

Stop caring, I say, and find better friends. Even that chick who only pretends to hate you isn’t worth hanging around, because she clearly values her reputation over her friendship with you. How popular we were in high school doesn’t matter in the long run, anyway, at least from what I can tell. I’ve got co-workers who used to be high school cheerleaders, and are now just bitter, pizza-faced hags, having retained only their rancid personalities. The totally-out-of-it stoner dude who always zoned out in class and was made fun of by the other, “smarter” kids? He’s now my boss, Mr. McKenzie, well put-together, smart, and hella sexy, with ladies all falling over themselves just to get to talk to him. (Not me, though. I’d do him, but only when offered. :P)

If you really want to repair your friendships with these people, though, don’t lie to them. That shit will get tired, eventually. Instead, try to prove that despite your differences in beliefs, you are still a good and compassionate person. As they would say, “Turn the other cheek.” Hopefully, they’ll warm up to you and figure out that not all atheists are vicious, ill-intentioned demons.

I hope that despite everything that’s happened, you’re still doing well in school and in your personal life. Always keep in mind that what they say doesn’t dictate who you are. You’re still awesome!

Yeah, I don’t know if I’m actually going to send this, but I do want to. Only, I don’t really want to be responsible for fucking up other people’s relationships. I’m torn.

Aaaanyway.

Dear Mrs. Carl,

You do not know who I am. In the interest of keeping my job and maintaining a good rapport with all my co-workers, I’d like for it to stay that way.

I have some information regarding your husband Carl that I would like you to know about. Bear in mind that this is not an attempt to get his goat; Carl is actually my friend, or at least was my sort-of-friend until he told me about what he’d been doing behind your back. I refuse to associate myself with men like him. I am telling you this because I think that you deserve better than a cheating scumbag of a husband, and a man like Carl does not deserve a faithful wife and loving kids. Karma will strike him sometime, and if I have to be the catalyst, then so be it.

After work, a group of co-workers, Carl and myself included, hung out at a nearby bar and had drinks. I’d always seen Carl as a kind-hearted family man, and thus was quick to befriend him, and apparently he trusted me enough to tell me that he has been cheating on you for the entire ten years that you two have been married.

Anonymous: “How many girls?”
Carl: “Three.”
Anonymous: “How many of these were serious relationships?”
Carl: “Err, all of them?”
Anonymous: “Absolutely no one-night stands?”
Carl: “What? One-night stands don’t count!”
Anonymous: “God damn it. How many one-night stands, then?”
Carl: “I’ve lost track.”

Carl told me that he loves you, and the kids, but it’s a “man” thing to have many mistresses, supposedly, and the sad truth is that in this country, being a philanderer even if you’re married is considered something to brag about. I certainly don’t approve of this, and I doubt you would either.

Your husband is also a horrible sexist.

Anonymous: “What if you found out that your wife was cheating on you?”
Carl: “I’d leave her. …Wait, maybe I’d ask her if she wanted to work things through, but it would definitely be a problem.”

Because cheating is a “man” thing to do.

A huge part of me wishes that he’d never told me about it in the first place, because now I am saddled with this huge burden, and I’d feel guilty if I didn’t tell you. Everyone I’ve asked, save for one, said that it was none of my business and that I shouldn’t stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but the one person who disagreed with them insisted that by telling me all of this information, Carl had made it my business.

Frankly, I don’t have any advice for what you should do with this knowledge. Were this America, I’d advise you to sue the bastard for all he’s worth, but sadly, circumstances differ where you and I live. All I know is that you deserve much, much better, and I hope that no matter what happens, you are able to realize that. Please look for something better. Don’t settle for this piece of shit, because it’s this attitude among the women of our country that allows cheating husbands to be so prevalent and hailed here. It’s not right. Please don’t let him get away with this.

Sincerely,

An anonymous co-worker of Carl’s

Okay, I’m probably not going to send it. I don’t think she’d be likely to believe some anonymous letter, anyway. The issue, however, and the information I have on my hands, is seriously making me feel guilty for not doing something to right the situation.

Just finished my first week of work, and it was hella fun. Yay, me!

I met all sorts of interesting people at work. There’s my semi-cute, early-30’s boss, Mr. McKenzie, who doesn’t really make my heart race when I see him (plus he kind of has a beer gut), although I’d still hit it. I’d totally hit it. I’ve never had that phrase repeated so often in my head in one week. Whenever he’s got his back turned and I’m checking out his butt, I’m like, “I’d hit it.” When my co-workers squeal about how gorgeous he is, I’d say, “He’s not that hot, but I’d hit it.” Haven’t you ever encountered that kind of person? You know s/he’s totally wrong for you, and maybe isn’t even your type, but you’d still tap that ass given the chance. I’ve only experienced that kind of thing with McKenzie and with a former teacher of mine, Mr. Dexter, who somehow managed to be a Catholic and a Wiccan at the same time. He was weird, pale and spindly, but still kind of hot. Don’t ask me why.

McKenzie picks on me a lot because I’m the Opie of the workplace, but I’m handling it pretty well. I think McKenzie and I would have been good friends under other circumstances, but since he’s my boss, I find him just a little bit intimidating.

Back to the co-workers: fat, condescending uber-bitch Judy. I took this job knowing that people would probably underestimate me because I’m at least a decade younger than everybody else, but Judy is in a class all her own. She’s twice the bitch on the outside that I am on the inside, and that’s saying a lot, because you all know I’m a total bitch inside. I tried to be friendly towards her, but she’d raise an eyebrow and then turn her back on me. Whatever, nobody else likes her, anyway. Maybe she’s just jealous because she’s a 29-year-old college grad who’s earning the same amount as a dumb teenager fresh out of high school? Hee.

We have Annie, 27, sweet but slightly clueless. I spend most of my time with her, I guess because she was the first to approach me when I was new to the workplace. I sort of have to dumb myself down when I talk to her, but I don’t mind too much. It’s nice to not have to be on my toes all the time.

Ray, 24, brings out the inner dork in me, which is why I love hanging out with him. In the middle of work, we’d jump out of our seats and sing showtunes to each other! He’s the Jim to my Pam, if you remove the underlying romantic tension from the equation.

If all goes well, then Mikey, 28, will soon be my Gay BFF. Tee-hee. We like all the same things, and we get along great. He’s the only guy in the office whom I feel is on my level, intellectually.

Then there’s Carl, a kind father of two in his mid-thirties who sits next to me at work. I don’t know how the discussion came to religion, but it did, and when he told me he was an atheist, I breathed a huge sigh of relief, told him I was an atheist too, and then high-fived him. (What? It’s hard to find fellow atheists here!) Unfortunately, Murray, the mid-50’s guy who sits behind us, overheard the conversation and wheeled his chair over to share his thoughts on God and faith. I know he meant well, but it was incredibly TL; DR, and I spent most of that monologue trying not to space out. To make things worse, it was an “I used to be an atheist, but…” story. “But then I decided that logic just wasn’t for me.” (Okay, it was “But then my mom got cancer.” At least it’s an interesting twist to the whole “My mom got cancer so I became an atheist” story.)

It’s another annoying habit that theists have. It happened to me before when I had dinner with Joe, a hugely irritating friend-of-a-friend. I was telling him about my rocky relationship with my family and how horrible they are to me just because I’m an atheist. From out of nowhere, he starts preaching to me about “it’s not really about God, it’s about love” and blah blah fishcakes, and I just nodded and smiled even though I was thinking, “Guh, what? Worst date ever.”

I don’t know what compels someone to do it, but whenever I say that I’m an atheist, a believer who happens to hear me will suddenly go into a looooong sermon on the tenets of Catholicism or whatever. I hate to break it to you guys, but theists? We usually don’t care. Well, I’m speaking for myself, anyway. You’re not going to convert me by saying something long and boring about a topic I don’t give a flying fuck about, when we could instead be talking about something interesting, like rock music.

Murray’s actually my friend, and I like the guy, but once he was out of earshot, I whispered to Carl, “This is exactly why I don’t tell everybody I meet that I’m an atheist.”

Carl: “Agreed.”

So, it’s Christmas, and despite all the shit I’ve been put through recently, I still think that it’s a time to be happy and to reflect on the things that made 2007 a spectacular year for me. I figured that 12 was a Christmassy enough number, so here are the top 12 things I’m thankful for this year:

12. My 18th birthday celebration (best birthday ever)
It was the first birthday I got to spend with just me and my friends, because in previous years I’d tried to ask but would invariably have my father try to guilt-trip me, all “she doesn’t want to spend it with us.” This year, I guess I’d finally earned it. I had an amazing time, being with people I loved who treated me like a queen. I was smiling the whole time.

11. Scrubs
For a sitcom, this one sure makes me cry an awful lot (damn you, John C. McGinley and your out-of-this-world acting skills!). I’m especially thankful for this line by Dr. Kelso:

“Nothing in this world that is worth having comes easy.”

It’s become my personal motto, and it’s helped me through a lot of the challenges I’ve faced this year.

10. Clothes shopping and spa trips
Shallow as it may sound, shopping and getting my hands and feet pampered never fails to brighten my day no matter how down in the dumps I’m feeling. They’re my favorite vices.

9. Fred
I still refuse to apologize for standing up for gay people, but it’s not like Fred was a horrible friend otherwise. I do owe him for being one of the few friends who could truly empathize with me and be there for me whenever I was in a bad place emotionally. We’re still on bad terms with each other (and I still think he’s a little off his rocker), but I am still thankful for what he’s done for me over the years.

8. The LGBT Pride March
Special thanks to everyone who encouraged me and gave me the testicular fortitude to go through with it. Through the march, I met a lot of amazing LGBT people, like Justin and Emmett, who truly inspire me. I felt so proud of myself for standing up for others’ rights, and I would gladly do it again next year. In fact, I’ve already signed up for a couple of local gay-straight alliances, and I plan to be an even louder voice in support of LGBT rights in college.

7. Greg Berlanti
This TV wunderkind, the creator of Everwood, Brothers & Sisters, Dirty Sexy Money and Eli Stone, is exactly the kind of person I aspire to be like when I’m older. It’s my personal ambition to become a television screenwriter (and clearly, I’m siding with the WGA on the writer’s strike), and if I ever achieve the dream of creating my own drama series, I hope mine could be as significant as his shows, which are not only well-written and entertaining, but are a huge step forward in terms of LGBT visibility on television. (more…)

(Why yes, that post title is a reference to A Chorus Line. Man, I’m cheesy.)

It was the night before the parade, and I approached my mother in the kitchen to ask her again if I could attend the gay pride parade. She, again, refused.

“Please,” I whined, “my gay friends are counting on me to be there!”

After taking a while to think it over, she sighed, “Ask your father.”

So I did, and Dad was like, “It’s up to you,” and hey, a victory is still a victory, even if I didn’t get to use the “they’re being discriminated against, like meee!” speech I had prepared in my mind.

My parents have a certain way of showing their disapproval of my choices, and that’s by leaving me to fend for myself as much as possible. They pulled this little trick on me when I enrolled at Dream College; Mom went through all the red tape to procure an application form and even bargain for an extended deadline for me when it came to College That She Wanted for Me (also known as Smarty-Pants College), but when I insisted on applying for Dream College, they didn’t lift a finger to help. I had to take three-hour-long trips on public transportation (no walk in the park, especially not here) to and from the school for a number of days to complete my application. For the parade, I had to take the whole journey myself as well.

This trip was made significantly more difficult because of what I’d chosen to wear. I’d never been to a gay pride parade before, but I figured that what I wore to the parade made an important statement, so I gay-ed it up some, with a black mini-skirt and rainbow striped knee-high socks. It was a little discomforting to hear the catcalls and lewd remarks as I walked to the bus stop, as well as the odd stares from pedestrians, but hey, it’s for a good cause, isn’t it? Ah, the things I do for love.

I’d actually signed up as a volunteer with the organizers a week beforehand, so I got to be a marshal to the madness, which was really cool. People loved my outfit — some even stopped to take pictures of me! I’m always flattered to hear praise about my sartorial choices from gay men. I remember being at a high-end shoe shop once, where the gay manager approached me to tell me how much he loved my outfit. I happily recounted this to my mother later on.

“Yeah,” she snorted, “it’s no surprise that he liked your outfit — he’s a fag.”

Thanks a lot, Debbie Downer. I just brushed it off, because I love gay people, and my mother is a frumpy dresser, anyway.

(more…)

I met up with my religious friend Martha for the first time in months. During one particularly quiet moment when we sat on the steps, feeling the wind in our faces, I decided that it probably wasn’t a good idea to keep this part of myself hidden from someone I trust.

Me: “How do you feel about atheists?”

Martha: “I don’t have anything against them, though I do kind of feel bad for them since they don’t have someone to believe in.”

Me: “Yeah, it would probably be easier to have someone omnipotent to turn to in times of hardship.”

Martha: “Or someone to blame. I blame God all the time.”

Me (laughing): “Yeah. Um, I have to tell you something.”

Martha: “What is it?”

Me: “I’m an atheist.”

Martha: “Really?”

Me: “Yup. You’re not mad?”

Martha: “Why would I be mad?”

The sad thing about coming out for me is that I often act like my atheism is something I have to apologize for. It’s certainly not, but I do often have to brace myself for the worst, especially after facing rejection from my own family. I told her about getting kicked out of Christmas this year, and how I essentially lost a brother due to our differences in beliefs (he’s a fundamentalist, I’m an atheist — we’re like Dr. Cox and his annoying sister Paige on Scrubs, only we don’t reconcile at the end of the episode). She expressed disgust at the way they were treating me, and how people treat atheists in general. She told me she felt bad for what my family did to me, which is nice coming from a devout Catholic like Martha.

She then came out to me as a bisexual, which I, being an LGBT supporter, certainly had no problem with. Then we spent the rest of the gray-skied afternoon walking amidst the trees, talking about boys and singing show tunes, the same friends we always were.

The whole thing went much better than I’d expected.

Fred finally got to read the post I wrote about his homophobia, and as expected, he didn’t like what I had to say. He confronted me, demanding an apology.

Fred: “First, I talk to you on the assumption that what I share to you is kept between us, and sorry, but I find what you’ve said to be rather condescending.”

Basically, he didn’t like it when I called him out on his homophobic bullshit on his blog, and now he doesn’t like it that I called him out on his homophobic bullshit on my blog. He also called me a bigot for the way I write about him on this blog, and said that I was also “rude and disrespectful” towards him.

Well, go ahead. Call me self-righteous and condescending and whatever you damn well please, because I probably am, but if we continue to be tolerant of that idiotic “homosexuality is a choice” mentality, then when will the bigotry end? So no, Fred, I don’t respect your opinion and you can’t make me, because I won’t stop bitching until people treat gays with the respect they deserve.

He also blamed me for bringing up the actual topic with him and confronting him on it, because he supposedly didn’t want to talk about it with me.

Fred: “I tried to back down so many times, because I didn’t want to talk about it. I knew you were sensitive to that crap, and I knew you’d disagree with whatever I have to say.”

See, now who’s being condescending?

Fred: “It would’ve been fine with me had you not taken my opinion like shit. You never did respect my opinions when I disagree with you.”

We jumped right back into the debate, because Fred claims I misunderstood him the last time.

Fred: “Look, this stems from the difference in belief of what you and me see people as. From what I could tell, you see people as a bunch of chemicals just thrown together to make meat that moves. I see people as a being of will. Above the capacity of one’s own physical brain, humans have a will, and I believe that a person’s will is the only limitation he has in anything. See, serial killers are people who kill a bunch of people for arbitrary reasons, without direct benefit from the act of murder; so, to many psychologists, serial killers are known to have parts of their brain that just make them go that way. You know that, right? Now, would you argue that a serial killer just kills people because he’s been born with an extra large adrenal gland, or because he lacks the will to control his deficiencies?”
TA: “The latter; but see, I find it hilarious that you’re comparing gay sex to murder.“
Fred: “Then there’s no point in reasoning out any further.”
TA: “Allow me to repeat myself: who do gay men hurt when they’re fucking? Humankind? See, here are my basic rules: if no one else is getting hurt, then what’s the problem?”
Fred: “Well, that’s your belief, and I’ve no right to question as much, but it’s not the act of having sex that bothers me, it’s their being homosexual in the first place, because as can be observed, MOST homosexuals arise from trauma, and I believe that it’s weakness for one to simply resort to homosexuality. It’s kind of the same as depression, or suicidal tendencies.”

So, you don’t mind the gay sex part, just that they’re actually being gay, because homosexuality is…a mental illness? Wow, that’s much less offensive!

I actually do believe that human beings are of will, too, but I don’t think gayness is something you have to exercise control or will over. Because it’s not wrong.

Fred: “Okay, in being gay, it is only wrong if it is an exhibition of past trauma. There. That’s it. Otherwise, you can have whatever you wish.”
TA: “Wow. do you blame rape victims for experiencing PTSD too?”
Fred: “Sure.”

Then I just laughed in his face, and he called me an ass. Honestly, is there anything I could possibly say to make him look worse than he does? He does a pretty good job of it himself!

Fred: “I’m very much inclined to reason, and simple reason dictates that what I believe is true, it takes something else to believe in what you believe in.”

“Reason.” Heh-heh. (And rationalists all over the world weep at the misuse of this term.) It’s reasonable to not have any respect for gay people. Oh wait — Fred doesn’t dislike all gay people, only the ones who experienced some form of trauma when they were younger.

TA: “What’s the point of all this then? Why did you confront me? What do you want me to do?”
Fred: “Have a little tact?”

[Note: This is hilarious coming from Fred, because he's one of the most obnoxious people I know. He's the kind of guy who likes to rub it in my face that Kurt Cobain sucks, just because he knows I'm a Nirvana fan. (What?)]

TA: “I think you’re a bigot, as do my readers. I’m just being honest, dude, because I find your views outrageous.”
Fred: “Well, you shouldn’t have posted it there in the first place.”
TA: “Why not? It’s my blog!”
Fred: “Because I like to keep my opinions to myself, and those who I entrust them to.”
TA: “I’m glad I posted it, because I think that people need to know that this way of looking at things is wrong, and it’s hurtful to gay people.”

He then went on a tirade on how I was wrong to be “thinking in absolutes,” in that there is an actual right and wrong in this debate, instead of respecting the opinion that gay people who couldn’t overcome their past traumas are weak.

Still, of all the dumb things he’s said in this exchange, this has got to be one of the funniest:

TA: “Have you read the sources that Martin posted? From the American Psychological Association? You think the APA are bullshitters, too?”
Fred: “If they’re not in paper, they’re not worth reading.”
TA: “It’s the bloody APA, read it before you talk to me.”
Fred: “And, please, that’s America.”
TA: “And so?”
Fred: “Everyone in America is touchy-feely with everything.”
TA: “You’re discrediting the APA because they’re touchy-feely? Nice rebuttal!”

Seriously. He claims to be making his arguments on “reason,” when the only basis he has for them is anecdotal. I’ve got sources from a national association of psychologists, and their opinion is worth shit because they’re touchy-feely?

Fred: “Fine then, I discredit them as the society and culture in their nation pressures them to believe in such. And I never said I wanted you to believe in what I have to say, that’s why I didn’t even want to talk to you about this.”
TA: “I know, you wanted me to ‘have some tact.’ Well, I’m sorry, but there’s no being tactful about this, because I hate how gay people are treated. They have it nearly as bad as atheists.”
Fred: “You’re too close-minded about being open-minded.”

He’s upset because I’m supposedly making him out to be this evil, fag-murdering monster on my blog, when really, I haven’t said anything that makes him look worse than he is. All I did was cut-and-paste his quotes to my blog.

He insists that the way he thinks is okay because he treats gay people the same as everybody else. I likened that to the way my parents treat me: They don’t openly hate on my atheism, except for the occasional backhanded comments, and they clearly believe me to have no sense of values. It’s not as bad as some people, but it’s still very offensive to me.

Fred: “If I would find out that a person resorts to homosexuality as a means of escaping something in his mind, then that’s something I don’t like about him.”

TA: “How is what you’re doing to gay people NOT like what my parents are doing to me?”

Fred: “Does that matter?”

TA: “Yes, because they’re prejudiced, and so are you.”

Fred: “You’re forcing it that I prejudize [sic].”

TA: “Well, you haven’t proven me wrong, have you? Or do you think my parents aren’t being prejudiced towards me?”

Fred: “I don’t think they’re as prejudiced as you see them, and whatever prejudice they have for you, you’re doing the same to me.”

TA: “Are. They. Prejudiced?”

Fred: “In aspects, yes.”

TA: “Then so are you.”

Fred: “But it’s more of a no, really.”

I laughed. I laughed out loud, and I also wanted to kick his teeth in, because what he just said was both hilarious and upsetting. It’s more of a “no?”

This is why I blog about you, Fred. Because if I let this mentality slide, then people will think it’s okay to group homosexuals in with depressives and serial killers. People will think it’s okay to secretly dislike fags and atheists, just as long as you treat them normally. Well, it’s not. I do believe there’s an absolute right in this debate, and it is this: acceptance. And not just pretending you accept them, but really believing them to be as human and normal as the rest of us.

Yes, I could probably have handled this with a little more tact, but this issue is something that I take to heart, and there are really no two ways about it — it angers me that people continue to think this way. Maybe you’re right, Fred, and I am being “just as bigoted and prejudiced” towards you as you are to gay people, but guess what? Ethnic minorities didn’t gain acceptance until people stood up and said “It’s NOT okay to hate.” So I’m not going to accept your opinion, and I’m not sorry for being “rude” and “tactless.” The occasion called for it.

Remember when I mentioned how I went with a friend to their Protestant worship service and enjoyed it? And how, afterwards, my parents had banned me from ever visiting a Protestant mass again, in fear of my possible conversion? That happened about five years ago, and I’d always been secretly resentful of their narrow-mindedness with regards to that issue.

“I don’t care if you had a good time!” Dad had asserted. “The Holy Mass is not supposed to be a party!” (Yeah, because God forbid we actually enjoy praising Jesus. Singing and clapping is far too sinful, and don’t even think about air-conditioning. Air-conditioners are a work of the devil.)

Fast-forward three years, when I was still a believer, but increasingly unhappy with being a Roman Catholic. I’d finally mustered up the determination to have another whack at Protestantism, although I wasn’t ballsy enough to tell my parents. Instead, I went on a movie outing with some friends one Saturday, and then secretly accompanied one Protestant friend to their worship service.

Once again, I had a much better time there than I did in Catholic mass, and I even got a little teary-eyed while singing (damn you, Christian rock!), because I was going through this whole angsty “God loves me more than my parents do” phase. After all, when you’re starved for affection, your imaginary friend will never let you down.

That wasn’t the interesting part, however. The good stuff happened after the service, when the pastor/facilitator/whatchamacall’em asked the “newcomers” to stand up. I did, along with five or so other people who were within my age range, and we were all herded into a white room in the back where we were served refreshments. (Insert appropriate “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid!” joke here.)

We gathered in a circle as the pastor prayed to welcome the new sheep to the flock, or something like that. After the prayer, he notices a girl sitting sadly in the corner. He draws attention to her, all “Hello, and you are?” with a big ol’ smile, and asks her what’s wrong. She tells us about a condition that had rendered her legs useless since childhood.

Now here’s the good part: a couple of men prop the paralyzed girl up and hold her by the arms while the pastor lays a hand on her forehead and mumbles some unintelligible hocus-pocus. The girl starts sobbing and praying too, and then the pastor takes both her hands and oh my God she’s jumping up and down with him! Just like they do on television!

I didn’t know what to think, but I was scared shitless. Even though at that point, I was still pretty sure that there was a God (or hoping there was one, anyway), I already had my doubts about the genuineness of the “miracle” I’d just witnessed. The whole thing gave off a huge “Lookie what we can do! Aren’t we awesome and powerful?” vibe to me, and I remember thinking, “Good Lord, do they orchestrate this shit every time new people show up?”

Hell, even my fundie brother Pete, who is the kind of guy who would remind me endlessly about “Don’t use God’s name in vain” whenever I went “OMGZ,” didn’t buy it. Back then, we used to be best friends (yeah, rejection still hurts, y’all), so I told him about my Finding Jesus adventure and the girl who could walk again, and he was all, “They’re probably faking it to impress the new people.”

If I ever consider trying Protestantism again, I’m going to show up in a wheelchair.

One of the reasons I’m glad I started this blog is that I learn so much from the people who comment here with advice and explanations for various things. So in this blog post, I’m going to actively ask for your opinions, this time regarding the topics of homosexuality, homophobia and affirmative action.

I often discover my greatest passions through embarrassing means. I’m an alt- and grunge-lover, but I only discovered these genres through watching Rock Star: INXS. I discovered Imogen Heap through Garden State. I’m a huge supporter of the LGBT cause, and while I have never hated or disliked gays, my PFLAG-esque passion stemmed from watching Queer as Folk (or as I like to call it, “gay porn”). Now, I don’t think the catalysts affect my sincerity, even though they’re a little tough to admit to.

In any case, I’m still a staunch defender of gay rights, despite the fact that I’m just a straight girl who likes watching pretty boys make out with each other on a soapy Showtime series. And I don’t espouse gay rights as my cause celebre because Brian/Justin was an abnormally hot, so-wrong-it’s-right couple, but because next to atheists, I think the LGBT community faces the most discrimination.

So it irked me considerably (read: I totally PO’d) when Fred* made a gay joke on his blog and then followed it up with this statement (paraphrased):

“I’m not a homophobe. The term ‘homophobe’ is pejorative. I’m not afraid of homosexuals, I just don’t like them. The politically correct word is ‘heteropreferential.’”

Granted, my rebuttal was a wee bit more hostile than it should have been, but I found that statement to be incredibly asinine, and I thus responded accordingly. To me, being a homophobe and calling yourself “heteropreferential” is like being a racist and calling yourself “[insert race here]-preferential.” And I don’t think intolerance should be sanitized. You’re free to disagree with me, readers; I’m probably biased in thinking that homophobes do not deserve a “politically correct” term. (Though if you called me “pro-abortion” rather than “pro-choice,” I wouldn’t stop you.)

Anyway, Fred doesn’t see himself as a homophobe. He “likes Freddie Mercury, even though he was gay.” I asked him if he didn’t like that Mercury was gay, and Fred said yes. I thought that sentiment was homophobic in itself. If I said I liked Jimi Hendrix “even though he was black,” as opposed to just liking Jimi Hendrix, period, would that not make me a racist?

I confronted Fred on his statements, and we got into a lengthy debate about it. Debates with Fred are tiresome because they always wind up circular. We just keep repeating the same things over and over again. It boiled down to this conclusion: Fred thinks he’s not a homophobe because he goes by the literal translation (”homophobia” = “fear of homosexuals”) while I think he is because I go by the dictionary definition (”homophobia” = “irrational fear of, aversion to, or discrimination against homosexuality or homosexuals”).

But Fred also disagrees that he’s a homophobe by dictionary definition because he feels that his dislike for gays isn’t unfounded. So, why does he dislike gay people?

Fred, verbatim: “Homosexuality is a choice.”

If I were as devoid of morals as people say atheists are, I would have punched him in the face right then. (more…)