How to Handle Heathens in the Deep South

If you are not from the Deep South, you might find it odd that blessings are bestowed upon you when you are buying french fries at the McDonald’s drive through, but I assure you it is considered proper manners here.

What seems to really stump people is dealing with those of no faith.  I have yet to find an etiquette guide to help handle heathens in Dixie. I thought I might offer some pointers to you good people because I am not the only atheist you know. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but next time you are at a secular event where you are supposed to bow your head during the illegal Christian prayer, you know in the next few days, look around and see who is looking around to see who is looking around. I’m never the only one.

Do not say you’ll pray for me.  Look. You can pray to whomever about whatever in the privacy of your home for as long as you like.  But when you say you will pray for me, you’ve just found a really easy way (for you) to tell me everything I think and feel is morally wrong, I am irredeemable, and you’re telling God.  Nobody likes a snitch. “Have a blessed day,” is a habit for you, I know.  But it’s really no better.

Do not say you want a dialog and then just preach at me.  I know the difference. And none of that How to Convert an Atheist in 10 Easy Steps shit.  I hope you didn’t pay money for that book.

Do not quote the Bible at me.  Yes, I have read it. Damn.  Almost as long as The Stand. And a whole bunch of other books, too.  Interested in book club?

Do not assume I am angry at God.  Are you angry at fairies?

Do not tell me this is why I am single. I’m doing fine, thanks.  Actually, I usually date other atheists.  There are more of us than you know.  We have parties and listen to death metal. Naked.

Do not ask me if my life is meaningless or dark or filled with fear of death.  I assure you it is not. If I told you it was, would that validate your own belief that God is necessary?  Do you really need that?

Do not ask me to go to church with you.  I know you think your particular church and your particular minister can teach me something I don’t already know.  They can’t.  If you’d like to spend time with me, I’d love to go for Chai.

Do not tell me I should believe “just in case” so I have insurance against going to hell.  I am going to respect you enough to assume the threat of hell is not the only reason you believe.  Why should it be mine?

Do not ask me why, if I have no fear of eternal damnation, I’m not out there killing people.  Seriously, do not ask me that.  It scares the shit out of me. You please keep going to church. Do that Wednesday thing, too.

Do not start in on evolution without realizing I have an anthropology degree, and I will nail you to the cross in your living room.  I do not have time for your why are there still monkeys crap.  Read a book. No. One of the other ones.

Do not put crosses up all over my children’s public school.  Unless there is a vampire problem.  Then it’s fine. Student safety should be everyone’s first priority.

And don’t tell me I am sending my children to hell; they tell me that every time they get in trouble and I cut off the internet. It’s not working for them either.

Lastly, just be aware that not everyone around you is a believer.  Most of us atheists look pretty normal. The universe is not your own private house of worship.  It would be especially polite if you remembered this when you vote.

Burkini and the Breast: Sisters in Feminism

When I started this blog back in January, I had no idea I’d be writing so much about boobs.  In fact, believe it or not, IRL I don’t given even my own breasts that much thought unless I pop a wire or something, but here we are.  I’ve already written about imposed modesty here and why I think the Free the Nipple movement is important even if you prefer to keep your hooters covered here.  But I am not done.  Ok, today’s blog isn’t really about boobs (sorry), it’s about the Burkini.  Kudos to whomever coined my new favorite term.  The next round of coffee is on me.

If you haven’t actually seen a Burkini, here’s a picture of the beachwear for those women desiring full coverage.  Surprisingly enough they are gaining some popularity among all types of women, not just the Muslims who inspired the style.  You might want one if you are a skin cancer survivor, for example.  Also, they look really comfortable, like they might keep sand out of places you don’t want sand.

Unless you live in France.  French authorities are actually demanding that women wearing too much clothing on the beach disrobe.  Burkinis are banned.

Let’s first dispense with any pretense that this is about feminism.  Feminism is about women wearing whatever the hell they want.  So if a parade of topless women walks by demanding the right to tan their ta-tas wherever men can go topless, that is feminism.  If most women on Le Sandy Shell Beach cover body parts X, Y, and Z, but a FOREIGNER shows up covering her whole alphabet and you object, that is not feminism.  That is Islamophobia.  See the difference?

If you want to have a conversation about how women all over the world are oppressed or controlled by the societies in which they live, please be my guest.  It’s a great conversation to have, but let’s dig a little deeper than shaming women for what they choose to wear.  Let’s talk about how women in the US only make 79 cents for every dollar men make. Or about how there are so few women in American politics.  Let’s talk about that.

Modesty is not an absolute.  It’s a cultural construct.  You can say it’s about religion if you really think you can separate religion from culture in any useful way. But this means you accept a variation in religious norms. If you really believe that Christian women cover their breasts because God requires modesty, but Muslim women cover their hair only because Muslim men are sexist pigs, then just go ahead and admit to us all that you have no tolerance or understanding for other cultures or religions other than your own.  And yes, I am ashamed of you.  You should work on that.

Let’s try an empathy exercise.  You are a strong independent woman of means, and you decide to expand your horizons by traveling to the planet Stripteaze to gaze upon the rubied shores of the Double D Mountains.  Upon your arrival, you are required to remove all your clothing and walk naked through the streets in front of all the Stripteazians.  If you think this might make you uncomfortable or you wouldn’t want your mother to do it, maybe you can begin to imagine how a woman raised wearing a hijab feels when asked to uncover her head.  Naked.  That’s how she feels.  Naked and exposed.  And none of us should have to feel vulnerable about our bodies.  Whether we wear a Burkini or nothing at all.  That’s feminism.

Crime Against Humanity: Blood on Your Hands

In the movie Blade Runner (and also in the Philip K. Dick novel on which it was based), professional replicant hunter, Rick Deckard, administers a test called the Voight-Kampff.  The Voight-Kampff is a machine that measures minute changes in the pupil in response to various hypothetical situations. To fail this test is to be declared less than human, merely a replicant of a human.

This machine, it turns out, did actually exist at one time.  Only instead of determining if you were a replicant, it was designed (and not very well) to determine your sexual orientation.  It was called, I kid you not, the Fruit Machine, and was used during the McCarthy-era Lavender Scare.

Like a replicant, the fruit machine has been retired.  It is no longer an acceptable practice to strap people to chairs and show them sexually explicit pictures like in Clockwork Orange.  Maybe it is not surprising that over 90% of LGBTQ adults in a Pew Research study say society has become more accepting of them in the past decade and they anticipate it will continue to become more so.

Do not congratulate yourself.

In this same study, nearly 40% of respondents reported being rejected by a close friend or family member because of their sexual orientation.  These families are more likely to be Southern, and they’re more likely to be religious, and their children are more likely to commit suicide.

As many as 40% of LGBTQ youth have been reported to attempt suicide.  And the reported number is certainly low.  Let that sink in.  Four out of every 10 LGBTQ youth attempt to end their own lives.  So no, do not congratulate yourself.

Let’s be clear. The high suicide rate among LGBTQ teens is not caused by homosexuality.  The high suicide rate is caused by homophobia.   It is because our children have been harassed, physically threatened, taunted, and beaten.  It’s because they are kicked out of their homes and lose their jobs.  It’s because they face obstacles marrying their partners or adopting children.  And here in the South, it’s because this is all considered acceptable behavior in the Christian Church.

Not all Christians believe this of course.  Archbishop Desmond Tutu called homophobia a “crime against humanity.”

“We treat them” he said of gays and lesbians,   “as pariahs and push them outside our communities.  We make them doubt that they too are children of God—and this must be nearly the ultimate blasphemy.”

This is quite a contrast to those of you who consider homosexuality an abomination, considering you all claim to get your morals from the same God and the same book.  I know there are also some who try to take the middle ground, who are content to let God sort out the fags, who profess to hate the sin and love the sinner.  You would never lift a finger against a gay person and even refrain from the playground level slurs the LGBTQ community must endure every day. Then you sit in church and nod as your preacher condemns your neighbors, your friends, your children for how they were born.

That’s not good enough.  That’s not nearly good enough.

If you support a church that preaches hate, and you do not stand up in some way to object, there is blood on your hands. Period.  Every one of the more than 10,000 annual suicides by gay youth, they’re on you.  Because you have declared a human to be less than human.  I hope your God can forgive you because I will not.

If you are a young person dealing with the pressures of a non-conforming gender identity, it’s ok to ask for help.  Visit the Trevor Project or call 1-866-488-7386.

Political Protest in the Deep South: Sorry, I forgot my Bible.

Being politically active in the Bible Belt is a whole different basket of fishes and loaves. Political rallies are often led by preachers, and even if they are not, they open and often close with a prayer.  I personally am not one of those atheists that are offended by every display of faith, but I will admit to feeling a bit excluded.  I show up to support fully funding public education, and everyone assumes I’m a Christian. Well in this town, I show up to buy shoes, and everyone assumes I am a Christian, so I should not take it personally. But what really bothers me is the framing of every issue against the backdrop of guessing what it is God really wants.  Progressives and conservative alike claim the support of the same God.  I’m not sure where that leaves me.   All I can say is that if one group of people claim the Bible says that homosexuals should be treated like their straight peers and another group of people claim the Bible says homosexuals should be shamed, persecuted, and beaten, maybe the difference of opinion is not about the Bible.  Let’s quit pretending Christianity is a unifying belief system. It’s a crutch at best; at worst it is no more than a pathetic excuse for the need to hold onto white male heteronormative cisgender power. Or a ploy to push forward the gay agenda.  Take your pick.

I stand with my Mothers for Choice sign, listening  to public prayers that include not just the usual praise and requests for blessings, but pleas that the opposing side will see the light, that their hearts will be softened, that they will come to understand that they are not doing God’s will.  As I recall, this did not work on the Pharaoh any better than it does on Mississippi legislators.

So the problem is not that some people are greedy, or conservative, or misogynistic, or Republican.  The problem is that some people are not interpreting the Bible correctly.  They are bad Christians.  No. That’s not right.  That’s not what Christian Progressives call them.  They call them “not true Christians.”  It would be interesting to find out if the political right uses this same terminology when describing the left.  It wouldn’t surprise me.

Since you cannot get elected if you do not call yourself Christian in Mississippi (you can’t even legally hold office if you are an atheist), it’s pretty clear that all of our State leaders are Christians at least in name.  It even tells you which church they belong to in the official directory. Did they simply exercise free will and choose the wrong denomination? Are they lying?  Influenced by the devil?  Motivation matters here.  If Republicans are all wearing invisible demon horns, that’s a whole different fight than if they just need an education about the science of Climate Change.

What do people mean when they say that those with differing political opinions are “not true Christians?” If you are a false Christian does that not imply some intent? As if you have studied the teachings of Jesus and chosen to reject them while still professing to be a person of the faith? Have you made a Faustian deal with the Devil for political power while pledging your soul to the dark side?

That’s a pretty serious accusation, and it leaves very little room for further political negotiation.  How can we reach common ground once I have accused you of purposefully denying your own faith?    I was not prepared to fight Satan himself when I took to the steps of the Capitol on the issue of transgender rights.  I have aligned myself with a movement which creates an impasse by framing political differences as no less than a war between good and evil.  I just want to make sure everyone can pee where they want.

To Forgive is Divine

Although I am not a Christian, I think I do understand the idea of God’s forgiveness. We are all children in the eyes of God, and we are imperfect and make mistakes.  If we learn from these mistakes, in other words, repent, our relationship with God remains intact.  I think this can transfer to the secular realm as well.

When I was in kindergarten in the mid 1970’s, our school had a handicapped class.  I think that’s what it was called, the handicapped class.  I was aware that it was there.  I’m sure I didn’t give a lot of thought to the pros and cons of mainstreaming those with physical differences.  Maybe I felt a little curiosity, maybe a little compassion.  I must have been told they all went to class together where they could get extra help, where they could be with other kids like them, so they didn’t have to feel isolated or different.

One day I was with 20 other kindergartners standing in line in a hallway while our teacher ducked into the office.  The handicapped class made its way down the hall coming from the opposite direction.  They were noisy and slow as braces clanked, walkers scuffed, wheels squeaked.  I don’t know how it started.  Maybe it was just one kid who had never seen anything like it before, one kid who thought the parade of painful gaits was funny, one kid who laughed.  And then they were all laughing, every single kid in my class was laughing.  It was so loud. And it seemed to last for hours as they went by so slowly. I wanted to cover my ears because it was so loud.  I didn’t think it was funny.  I didn’t know why they were laughing.  But obviously, I was supposed to laugh, wasn’t I?  I didn’t quite know how.  It came out like a throaty bark, a strangled dog trying to get air.  But I gave it my best shot.  I laughed as loudly as I could to drown out all the other laughs so I wouldn’t have to hear them.

Our teacher came out then, and she was furious.  I wish I remembered what she had said to us, if the teaching moment to end all teaching moments was fully realized.  But I didn’t hear a word she said because I was crying.  It was the first time I remember feeling really bad about myself.  I’d done something awful, and I had known better.   It was the first time I had done something truly unforgivable.

But was it unforgivable?  Do you think less of me?  I was five.  And I immediately repented.  In the eyes of God, I would be forgiven. And I hope you forgive me too.  But I wonder about that class full of children who struggled just to make it down the hall.  How many of them, now in their 40’s, remember that day?  How many of them forgive us?

And that’s the thing.  We are not God.  We are slighted and hurt and gravely wounded by those around us.  We are scarred both by accidental slights and malicious intent.  And we inflict pain on others and still walk around thinking we are decent human beings.  Is that why we say we forgive?  So that we can expect others to forgive us?

Once, many years ago, I was picking up my kid from preschool.  Somewhere between the two car seats and the diaper bag and the sleep deprivation, I managed to hit the minivan next to me with the car door.  I rolled down the window and looked for damage.  I saw a microscopic ding, nothing anyone would ever notice.  Crisis #412 of the day averted.  I was still getting everyone buckled when a hugely pregnant woman came barreling towards me.

I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU DID THAT, she snarled quietly.  All I could think was that this woman was not only hormonal, but also clearly had chronic rage problems for which she must have received a great deal of therapy where they taught her to say I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED in the scary quiet voice  instead of cursing people out in the middle of parking lots full of toddlers.  I stammered, red faced, embarrassed.  I started to pull out my insurance card and my checkbook, but she would have none of it.  She slammed her car door in my face and spent the rest of the school year avoiding me.  She wanted me to know I was not forgiven.

I didn’t exactly lose sleep over this.  But I am a little concerned for this woman’s children who probably pissed her off regularly.  Maybe that’s another reason we forgive, to let go of anger. Being angry at someone indefinitely is taxing.  It’s stressful.  And as far as vengeance goes, it’s not particularly fulfilling.  Holding a grudge, according to Buddha, is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.  So having this vehicle of forgiveness is a handy out to have.   It’s an acknowledgement that every hit you take is in the end about how you handle it.

I thought about this a lot when the relatives of church shooting victims in South Carolina came forward to publicly forgive the killer for his act of unspeakable violence.  There were those who criticized them for doing so, but if it brought them peace, who should dare take that away from them?  I could only imagine how I would feel if it were me.  I think anger might be the only thing that held me together.  Maybe it would consume me.  Maybe I would be unable to forgive. And that would just be a tragedy on top of a tragedy.

Why What’s on our Money Matters

If you’ve been following the news, you may have seen that a group of atheists are suing the Federal Government to have the words “In God We Trust” taken off of our money.

You’d  think they’d have a good case.  It’s a clear violation the Establishment Clause as well as the Religious Freedom Restoration Act which prohibits the government from burdening a person’s exercise of religion unless it furthers a compelling government interest.

I see no compelling government interest in putting other people’s deity on my money. But this legal challenge is by no means a sure thing. “ In God We Trust” became our national motto, replacing the lovely E plurabis unum in 1957 as one of many efforts to differentiate real Americans from Godless commies.

The Courts have already ruled that as a motto, “In God We Trust,” has a place of honor on our money. In 1970, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit stated:

It is quite obvious that the national motto and the slogan on coinage and currency ‘In God We Trust’ has nothing whatsoever to do with the establishment of religion. Its use is of patriotic or ceremonial character and bears no true resemblance to a governmental sponsorship of a religious exercise.

I have trouble following that logic, and I can’t help but wonder if it really makes people of faith happy to read that “In God We Trust” means nothing more than Yay America!  But so far, this decision has held firm.

In the interest of choosing your battles, I should be forgiven for thinking this one doesn’t really matter to me much.  Finding a $20 bill in my pocket does not make me feel oppressed.  It makes me do a happy dance.  And anyway, I hardly ever use cash.  Mostly it’s for the farmer’s market and the coffee kitty and spending money for my kids.  Maybe I should let this one go.  Maybe it doesn’t matter.  It’s only money.

But it’s not only money.  In the current culture wars, government officials are slapping “In God We Trust” all over everything.  Because they can. Take that, atheist scum.  Look at us sneaking God onto the back of our police cars and into public buildings.  What are you gonna do about it?  We’re just being patriotic.

Here is why we can’t just let them have their fun: In 2009, my state enacted a law that requires every public school classroom to display a poster like the one above that says “In God We Trust” on it, lest we forget who is in charge here.  So when my child refused to take one of the bibles being handed out at school or expressed dismay at being locked into a revival meeting in the middle of the school day, the principal just smirked and pointed to the not at all religious, very patriotic signage on the wall. Obviously, she told me to my face, this is perfectly legal.  Also her husband is a lawyer.

Happily, despite familial ties to the legal profession, the district has recently had its ass handed to it in court for church/state violations to the tune of thousands of my taxpayer dollars. You can read more about the hubris and downfall of my school district in this great article  by Friendly Atheist, Hemant Mehta over at Patheos.  I call it money well spent. But the posters stay. For now.  If the court rules that “In God we Trust” does not in fact receive special protection as our country’s motto, those signs will have to come down.  Then I really will do a happy dance.

 

 

 

 

How to Handle Heathens in the Deep South

If you are not from the Deep South, you might find it odd that blessings are bestowed upon you when you are buying french fries at the McDonald’s drive through, but I assure you it is considered proper manners here.

What seems to really stump people is dealing with those of no faith.  I have yet to find an etiquette guide to help handle heathens in Dixie. I thought I might offer some pointers to you good people because I am not the only atheist you know. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but next time you are at a secular event where you are supposed to bow your head during the illegal Christian prayer, you know in the next few days, look around and see who is looking around to see who is looking around. I’m never the only one.

Do not say you’ll pray for me.  Look. You can pray to whomever about whatever in the privacy of your home for as long as you like.  But when you say you will pray for me, you’ve just found a really easy way (for you) to tell me everything I think and feel is morally wrong, I am irredeemable, and you’re telling God.  Nobody likes a snitch. “Have a blessed day,” is a habit for you, I know.  But it’s really no better.

Do not say you want a dialog and then just preach at me.  I know the difference. And none of that How to Convert an Atheist in 10 Easy Steps shit.  I hope you didn’t pay money for that book.

Do not quote the Bible at me.  Yes, I have read it. Damn.  Almost as long as The Stand. And a whole bunch of other books, too.  Interested in book club?

Do not assume I am angry at God.  Are you angry at fairies?

Do not tell me this is why I am single. I’m doing fine, thanks.  Actually, I usually date other atheists.  There are more of us than you know.  We have parties and listen to death metal. Naked.

Do not ask me if my life is meaningless or dark or filled with fear of death.  I assure you it is not. If I told you it was, would that validate your own belief that God is necessary?  Do you really need that?

Do not ask me to go to church with you.  I know you think your particular church and your particular minister can teach me something I don’t already know.  They can’t.  If you’d like to spend time with me, I’d love to go for Chai.

Do not tell me I should believe “just in case” so I have insurance against going to hell.  I am going to respect you enough to assume the threat of hell is not the only reason you believe.  Why should it be mine?

Do not ask me why, if I have no fear of eternal damnation, I’m not out there killing people.  Seriously, do not ask me that.  It scares the shit out of me. You please keep going to church. Do that Wednesday thing, too.

Do not start in on evolution without realizing I have an anthropology degree, and I will nail you to the cross in your living room.  I do not have time for your why are there still monkeys crap.  Read a book. No. One of the other ones.

Do not put crosses up all over my children’s public school.  Unless there is a vampire problem.  Then it’s fine. Student safety should be everyone’s first priority.

And don’t tell me I am sending my children to hell; they tell me that every time they get in trouble and I cut off the internet. It’s not working for them either.

Lastly, just be aware that not everyone around you is a believer.  Most of us atheists look pretty normal. The universe is not your own private house of worship.  It would be especially polite if you remembered this when you vote.