It was like any other school morning boarding the bus: the interior had an inky darkness, dappled with the red of emergency exit lights. I was groggy, and rested my head against my violin case, conscious of the person sitting next to me. There was the usual chatter about this teacher and that homework assignment; this student council meeting and that football game. But one voice caught my attention:
“80% of Chinese people are atheists. Isn’t that weird? They all worship the devil.”
It belonged to a girl I knew. She was a grade below me but I knew her; she and I shared the same bus stop. She knew my name; I knew hers. How could she say something like this? I knew her…
At this point, I should explain that I’m atheist. I’ve been an atheist for over a year now, but I’ve remained hushed about it. I don’t live in an overtly, extremely religious area, but I was scared. My two best friends were atheists; two kids in my science class were atheists. These were the only people I ever really discussed my atheism with, except for one or two of my Christian friends.
A month or so before, I had told my devout Catholic friend I was an atheist. She responded with, “I didn’t know that. Hey, that means you worship the devil.”
Heat surged through me. “No, it doesn’t!” I exclaimed.
“Yeah, it does,” she insisted, and I left for orchestra, part of me incensed and part of me frightened about losing a friend.
As an atheist, I don’t want to be told I am a devil worshipper, for I am not. (We don’t believe in Satan, either.) I don’t want to be told I am going to Hell. And (this is the one that gets me the most) I don’t want to be told that you are praying for me because I’m atheist. I don’t want to be told I have no morals. I find these statements rude and offensive. While I can’t speak for all atheists, many of us agree that we do not want to hear these statements directed at us.
And to the theists, I won’t tell you that you’re childish and immature. I won’t tell you your beliefs are irrational. I won’t tell you that God is an invisible sky fairy or that he is your imaginary friend. I won’t flare up at you for wearing a cross (or whatever religious symbol you prefer) or praying in public, and you are more than welcome to tell me Merry Christmas instead of Happy Holidays.
I feel perfectly content to be an atheist. I am happy, and I am grateful for what I have. I am perfectly moral, and all I ask is that you let me be who I am, and I will give you the same in return.