“Reprinted from Nov. 1992
By Name Withheld
In order to attend my senior prom last June, I first had to attend Easter Sunday mass. My father blackmailed me because he knew how much I resent his religion. I had no choice, so I went to church. But I didn’t dress up, or bless myself with so-called “holy water.” It’s been difficult to be an atheist in a Catholic family. I’m not ashamed about my views, but my parents would flip if they read this article so I’m withholding my name.
My hatred for religion began four years ago, when a close friend died. Her name was Sugarfoot. She was a small gray cockatoo whose feet were deformed. The bird couldn’t fly and could barely walk. I raised her since she hatched. I was like a mother to her, feeding, bathing and protecting her. I used to take naps with her sleeping next to my cheek. She liked to crawl up on my shoulder and play with my earrings and run her beak along my hair.
One day I came home from school and went directly to the bird cage which was covered by a cloth to keep the birds warm at night. I unveiled it and found Sugarfoot lying on the bottom of the cage. Her eyes were shut and her body still. I gave out a scream and cried hysterically. I buried my baby in a tissue box in the backyard. I’m not sure how she died, bit I think she may have been killed by her own mother.
It may sound silly, but all of my beliefs in someone higher than us was shattered. I began to question: Why would God kill an innocent bird? Why does he take loved ones away from us? Where is this God? How do we know it exists? What proof is there?
I felt betrayed. I did everything a good Catholic was supposed to do. I prayed every night, attended catechism classes, took my first holy communion and was on my way to making my confirmation. So why did God take away from me the most precious thing ?
I took down the Palm Sunday crosses that were taped on my door. I went through my photo album and removed the holy communion pictures. I took my white communion dress and put it in my parent’s room. I threw my gold cross earrings away. I wrote in my Bible, “There’s no such thing!” and tore out some pages and secretly put it in the garbage. I realized I was an atheist. That means I don’t believe in any god. I didn’t want my parents to know.
In little ways I began to challenge my parent’s beliefs. When we saw on the news that someone had died, I would make remarks like, “Typical of your God to take someone away.” When my brother or father asked me to get them something, I said “Get it yourself. Your God gave you two hands.”
Dad forced me to say grace
At one Thanksgiving dinner, my dad forced me to say grace. At first I refused. Then I decided to thank the sun and nature for providing the food. He wouldn’t eat until I gave thanks to his god. As a result, I ran to my room crying and didn’t eat until hours later.
Later that year, I was dusting my parent’s room and I turned around a religious statue so it was facing the wall. My dad became furious, grabbed the six-inch statuette and spanked me with it. It hurt, but I didn’t cry. I wondered, “Why does he have to defend something that doesn’t exist?”
When people ask me what religion I am and find out that I’m an atheist, they look at me as if I’m the devil’s advocate. In my Bible study class I was told that atheists are cold-hearted and only care about money. But I’m just as normal as everyone else. I do have morals! I cry when I hear of bad things happening to people, and I respect others.
Other students wanted me to apologize
Last fall I wrote an article on my atheism in my school’s paper. I asked people how they could believe in something that brings poverty, wars, hunger, diseases to this world. The response was negative. Teachers and students complained to my journalism advisor and a friend. Some students wanted me to apologize for my beliefs.
A religious club on campus wrote a letter to the editor, challenging me to prove my views. They said I didn’t know what I was talking about. The faculty advisor said he had proof that Adam and Eve existed. I thought about going to one of their meetings, but I decided they might try to brainwash me or maybe exorcise me.
Sometimes it’s embarrassing to be an atheist. Last Christmas I went caroling with some teens at a convalescent home. This really cute guy asked me, “Are you making your confirmation?” I hesitated. “No.”
“What religion are you?”
“I’m an atheist,” I said. After that, he didn’t ask for my phone number. Oh, well. Maybe one day I’ll meet a nice atheist man.”