It got me to thinking about my own "deconversion" (not sure I'm happy with this word) and all the who, what, where of it. I'd make a video, but I'm both lazy and lacking an awesome PBS accent, so, ya know, no. This'll have to suffice.
In the last post I guessed I'd given up the whole god thing around the age of seven. It didn't sound exactly right, but it did sound close. Since then I've watched the Tyson documentary and, aligning some stuff in his life (mainly the rape arrest and everything surrounding it) it seems I was actually between nine and ten. I remember vividly being in our church, St. Bethel Baptist (there's a guy changing his tires on the Google map view and listening to the...reverend maybe, admonish the congregation for gossiping about it. That would be all well and good, but then he proceeded to stand up for the accused and, paraphrasing, say she shouldn't have been there that late anyway and it's not like anyone but the two of them have a clue what actually went on in that room. I sat, listening to him talk, and was thinking along the lines "that...doesn't sound right. Not for church. You don't spend half your monologue on celebrity news and you CERTAINLY don't come down on the side of an accused rapist, innocent until proven guilty notwithstanding."
Now, in all fairness, I'd been doing some questioning to that point but it was what I thought was normal questioning. Why do bad things happen to good people (with examples), did Hitler go to heaven if he repented. My biggie I had been turning over in my head for a month or so after hearing someone, talking about a missionary trip, say that anyone who hadn't heard the word of Jesus they couldn't go to heaven. I was nine years old and at an age where I was reading about, you know, tribes and stuff. Regular people in where ever they were (South American rain forests, African jungles) that get to go to hell because no one dropped a bible from a plane into their village like The Gods Must Be Crazy. I couldn't make that make sense, and when I asked in Sunday School I was met with 'well, that's just why we help'.
Anyway, I dutifully kept going, kept amassing questions, and at one point just stopped asking others for answers. I also joined one of the choirs. Not the one that sang in the church, but the kids choir that traveled to other churches. Over the summer I was at someone's house for a while (honestly can't remember) and was signed up, without being asked, for a church thing that involved being picked up on a bus and bribed with candy to memorize verses and sing terrible Jesus songs (I want to fight in the infantry...). I hated every single second of it and only went once.
Now comes Easter. The story of Easter I didn't really have a problem with. The bunnies and eggs I didn't understand. Now I do, but that took some books and some sparks of logic. Still that Easter weekend went moreorless like this:
Friday; Sister and I were dropped off at father's house for the weekend. It was his turn. The rest of that night doesn't really apply.
Saturday; I don't remember the specifics, but I remember having a really good day. Then at the end of the day deciding I had no interest in going to church Sunday. I think we'd skipped something at the church on Saturday. Like a picnic or something.
Sunday; I fought going to church, I rolled my eyes and fidgeted through the whole service. When church broke up the sister went home with the mother, for some reason I went back to my dad's house. I think I'd left something and had to find it. Thinking about it now I honestly think it was a Mad Magazine. Anyway, he decided to make breakfast instead of fly me straight home and, while we ate, I just blurted out "I don't believe in god. There's no such thing." To his credit, he took it extremely well. He taught me the word atheist, in fact, and just said it was cool.
When he finally took me home I remember still being pissed as sister ran through the house and snatched up all the eggs that she'd already seen. I still didn't tell my mother, in fact I still don't think I've said the words to her. But I never tried to hide it, though. I stopped saying 'under god' in the pledge.
I wanted to read books, but there weren't any for my age and what I did find was way over my head. It wasn't very long, though, until I found out how many holidays are derived from older, "pagan" religions. It was the type of thing you want to tell everyone you know, probably with an air of smug superiority. When I tried, though, most people just didn't care. I still don't understand that. It wasn't until later that I learned of things like Zoroaster and Hercules and Horus, how their origin and life stories parallel Jesus' nearly exactly and the entire Christ as myth theory. Again, when you first learn it you want to tell everyone, and again they didn't care.
I was quiet about my (lack of) beliefs for quite a bit. When you mentioned atheism some people reacted too negatively and seemingly just because that's what they felt they were supposed to do. Flock the lost sheep or some such. Just a few years ago the growth of atheism in the public eye made it much easier to be me in public. To buy and wear (and lose) a Scarlet Letter pin from Richard Dawkins and wear it as prominently as possible. Even on my scarlet letter shirt. Double your atheism.
It's caused troubles. I've gotten into screaming matches with door knockers, and I have to sit and watch the sister take the nephew to church, hoping that once he's older I can sit him down and at least give him the choices I had to find on my own. But that's another post for another day.
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