Atheists Are Chill, Too
Disbelievers come in all kinds.
Satan-worshipers. Haters. Bible-burners. Accusations abound when the dreaded A-word bubbles to the American froth. Thankfully, many atheists go on disbelieving regardless. In fact, atheists are some of the bravest people I know.
By telling you a little bit about me and my atheist peers, I hope you’ll come around to the idea that most atheists are healthy, well-adjusted human beings with reasons for doing what they do. Like disbelieving God.
The Skimmy
I came out as an atheist sophomore year of college. My family, a white Christian/Catholic mix of Sunday Church-goers, was unimpressed. They’re part of the majority, the 70% of Americans who identify as Christian. That’s 21 students out of a class of 30.
In comparison, a measly 4% of Americans identify as atheists. That’s 1 out of 30 students. In college, I was that student.
I didn’t quite discover my atheism so much as I developed it. Turns out, one quirky ethics professor with opinions is all it takes to tip an agnostic into atheist territory.
agnostic: a person who neither believes nor disbelieves in God
atheist: a person who disbelieves in God to varying degrees
Junior year, I joined an atheist club as a joke. The club booth, a plastic table loaded with piles of pins, squatted beneath a blue tarp that shielded students from the oppressive summer heat. While Christian clubs brandished pamphlets at nearby students, the Alliance of Happy Atheists (AHA!) chatted amongst themselves. I marveled at their audacity. Did they not know they were outnumbered? That they had declared righteous war against the enemy, who camped not three feet away?
I doubled-back and approached the booth. I cringed when a peer offered me a pamphlet, and her jaw literally dropped when I clarified my destination. “Oh,” she said. “Whoops.”
The AHA! club members greeted me with animated smiles and a willingness to be vulnerable about their (dis)beliefs. I admired their confidence. I found in them what I’d only glimpsed in youth pastors at my mom’s Church — a grounding unique to those who know who they are and where they come from. They told me their pasts, of their struggles to be open and thoughtful with family and peers. Kind, intelligent, and wise, they were a far cry from the image of angry, arrogant skeptics I’d been raised to believe.
I joined the AHA!. We spoke over brunch. Our brief meetings were the highlight of my junior year. They taught me that atheists are unique.
I’ve lumped the atheists I’ve met into 3 broad categories. These are the folk who stood up when they could have stayed invisible.
“What You See is What You Get”
These atheists hit the crucifix on its upside-down head. Rational folk, they refuse to ignore a fact so blunt and obvious that it’s often ignored by skeptics and believers both: you can’t prove that God exists. Although, they’d be more than happy to watch you try.
I admire these atheists for their zeal. Out of all the atheists I’ve encountered, these are the folk most likely to pursue Truth with a passion that borders obsession. Guardians of logic and the scientific method, these hard-hitting seekers aren’t afraid to point out the flaws in other’s arguments. In return, they present beliefs grounded in the cool logic of numbers, statistics, and peer-reviewed facts. These atheists don’t need a degree to tell them what to believe — they’ve done their own research, arrived at their own conclusions.
Not all atheists are as sense-reliant as these folk. Some consider themselves spiritual, even extrasensory.
“God Doesn’t Exist As We Know Them”
Notice the nonbinary? These atheists do. They’ve read Genesis, and they call bullshit. Feminists, free thinkers, skeptics, and/or spiritualists, these folks critique the one-size-fits-all dogma purported by organized religion. Do they believe in a higher power? Beings that exist beyond humanity? Souls? Sure. Why not. Weird shit could happen — and maybe it should.
I admire these atheists for their empathy. It takes some serious walk-in-my-shoes mojo to carve out a niche that, to most of America, doesn’t even exist. These folks are the ones who listen to believers and decide that He’s not worth following; they are the ones who listen to “What You See is What You Get” atheists, and wonder if stats and logic are truly enough. Empathetic and open-minded, these atheists marry logic and feeling to arrive at beliefs they stand behind.
Some atheists are “in it” for the community. In fact, the following atheists are some of the friendliest folk I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.
“Let’s Have a Drink”
Sometimes, it’s about the community. And that’s wonderful — in fact, these atheists are the glue that holds disparate atheist groups together. Social, friendly, and always down to chat, these atheists don’t let their atheism define them. They prefer to be defined by their communities, which they love to nurture (despite the strong independent streaks of their non-conformist peers).
I admire these atheists for their sociability. Too often, we atheists are stuck without friends we can talk to about our latest reads and theories. Let’s face it. Sometimes? We just want to relax, put down our atheist banners, and shoot the shit.
There you have it. Yeah, atheists are the minority, but we’re not evil (mostly). So when you see us waving our atheist flags during Pride or passing out atheist pins during club fairs, stop by. Chat a little. Who knows? You might just like what you hear.
What kind of atheist are you? Let me know in the comments!
