Generation Atheist

by Dan Riley

  There were, however, parts of the student body who didn’t like the group. Many angry letters to the editor were written, saying, “The atheist group members obviously can’t be good people because they’re Godless” and “Why is the atheist group forcing their beliefs on people?” Our flyers were torn down all the time. On a few occasions, people walked by our meetings and yelled, “You’re going to hell!” I got used to this stuff, and it never got me down. Because we were organized, if someone wrote a demeaning letter stating that we were immoral or evil, 10 others were written that said, “No, we’re not, and here’s the evidence.” That had a huge impact on campus.

  On the whole, the criticism was outweighed by all the people, including professors, who were supportive of what we were doing. Many times, random people would come up to people in the group and say, “Thank you so much for doing this.” A lot of our supporters never came to the meetings, but I think knowing that we existed made them feel so much better. I received many e-mails expressing that sentiment.

  By the time I graduated, the group had over 400 people on its mailing list; we became one of the largest student groups on campus, bigger than most of the religious ones. We were in the local newspaper a lot and even got on the local news a couple of times. The media really liked us. I know some atheist groups have had problems with the media using weasel words or framing them in a negative way, but our local media always gave us really positive coverage. The group was pretty well-known by the time I left.

  Outside of my group, my college education only reinforced my atheism. The more I studied, the better I understood evolution. I was able to educate myself past the point of thinking, “This is what scientists believe, so I’m going to trust them.” I know many people say that understanding evolution isn’t what turns people into firm atheists, but that’s exactly what happened to me. For me, being able to look at the world in an informed way and know that all of life exists because of a natural process was the final nail in the supernatural coffin.

  My interest in evolution is so great that I decided to become an evolutionary biologist. While I really enjoy explaining how evolution works to anyone, including creationists, I’ve found that I can only reach people who approach the subject with an open mind. A lot of people don’t want to change their mind; they just want to reinforce the belief that they’re right, without truly listening to arguments that might be against their position. It’s most enjoyable to talk to people who are attempting to legitimately examine evolution. I can explain the truth if I’m asked a typical evolutionary question like “Why are there still monkeys if we evolved from monkeys?” I can explain that we didn’t evolve from monkeys, but rather have common ancestors with monkeys and draw a tree showing how the process works. Teaching takes patience because, like any other science, evolutionary biology is not necessarily easy to understand.

  Working in science has given me a lot of meaning because I think the field is so important. Through the history of mankind, science has continuously replaced supernatural explanations with natural explanations. I don’t expect that that’s going to be any different in the next 100 years. There are still a lot of big questions that need to be answered, probably most pressingly regarding how the brain actually works. We still really don’t know what’s going on in there. Largely because of our ignorance, the idea that there is some sort of supernatural otherness, a soul that acts like a puppeteer in our brain, has been perpetuated in our culture. We now know that what is happening in all of our brains is a natural process; we just don’t understand many of the specific details. Working out those details will be a huge advance in our understanding of what makes us human, what consciousness is, and what makes us alive. I think that’s super cool. That knowledge will have a huge impact on medicine, especially for those suffering from mental illness. Right now, if someone’s depressed, doctors basically throw drugs at them with a limited understanding of what those drugs are actually doing. We just hope that they work. Our ignorance fuels the stigma of mental disorders. Advances in these areas will help people a lot.

  Other areas of scientific inquiry interest me as well. As a biologist, I’m particularly interested in how life first arose on Earth. There are a lot of hypotheses and theories out there, some more supported by evidence than others, but at this point, we really don’t know the full answer. I think that’s a question that scientists can potentially answer. I would love to understand how the first cells or the first organic molecules came to be.

  A few years ago, as my scientific and atheistic interests evolved, I started a blog. I have always loved to write. Before I did, I was reading a lot of other blogs that I really enjoyed and thought, “Why not try my own blog? I’m opinionated. I can write these things down.” I started it on a whim, assuming that it would be something that my friends might read. I kept it public just in case anyone else might be interested.

  The name of the blog is Blag Hag. The name itself proves that I didn’t believe that it would gain a wide readership. I write, usually at least once a day, about a little bit of everything: atheism, religion, science, sex, political topics, or gay rights. To my delight, it has become relatively popular.

  I’m proud that my work has become a part of what I believe is a blossoming secular movement. I look at how much it has grown since I was in high school. We’re starting to get so much air time on television. One of the best things that has come out of the movement is simply letting atheists know that they’re not alone and that it’s okay to identify as an atheist. I think this is only the beginning. Our conferences are starting to draw thousands of people. I think there’s a really big need for what the movement is doing, especially in the United States, where, for so long, atheists have seemed content shutting up and listening to religious people. I think it was atheist blogger Greta Christina who said that the goal of the movement should be to make itself obsolete. I agree with that.

  When I think back to my past, I feel like I went through two phases of atheism. When I was really young, my atheism was based on the fact that I had read a lot of Greek mythology and other fairytales. The Gods that Americans believed in didn’t seem any different than those of antiquity. When I was that age, I really wished that the religious stories were true. There were times, during this, my first phase, when I thought, “I would feel so much better if I could pray to God and know that it would actually do something, to know that someone cared about me in the grand scheme of things.” I was scared of death and didn’t like the idea that when you die, that’s it, and there’s nothing afterwards. When I was younger and hadn’t really thought through my atheism, it wasn’t an incredibly positive thing for me.

  Later, when I was in high school, once I began to truly think about what it means to be an atheist, I began my second stage. I started reading blogs to learn about how other atheists felt about situations, and I began to develop my current beliefs. My perspective has changed. Now, I don’t fear death. I see that I’m lucky that I got this one life. I appreciate more fully that this world arose naturally, a fact that I find mind-bogglingly amazing. I don’t feel like I need to have someone intervene to answer my prayers because I should just go do something about any problem I may have. My perspective on my life is now much deeper and much better.

  XVIII.

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  Stef McGraw: An Atheist in Iowa

  “The only position that leaves me with no cognitive dissonance is atheism. It is not a creed. Death is certain, replacing both the siren-song of Paradise and the dread of Hell.

  Life on this earth, with all its mystery and beauty and pain, is then to be lived far more intensely: we stumble and get up, we are sad, confident, insecure, feel loneliness and joy and love. There is nothing more; but I want nothing more.”

  — Ayaan Hirsi Ali, The Portable Atheist

  Fitting in as an atheist in Iowa can be a challenge. During her upbringing in a mostly white, Christian state, Stef McGraw knew many young people who discussed how God was influencing t
heir lives. Most of her peers were involved in youth group. Raised in the Unitarian Universalist Church, which, more than anything, emphasizes respect for people and the environment, she had the freedom to educate herself and decide which religious — or nonreligious — perspective would work best for her.

  The group that she joined as a freshman in college, the University of Northern Iowa Freethinkers and Inquirers, provided a supportive community that grew her confidence and comfort in her identity. Stef, like many involved in the secular movement, recognizes the lack of women within it. The characteristics that are generally associated with those who do not believe in God — coldness, lack of emotion, etc. — are, according to her, both intimidating and untrue, encouraging women to distance themselves from the possibility of atheism.

  I grew up in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Given my area, I come from an atypical family. I was raised Unitarian Universalist. My dad grew up in Iowa going to the Unitarian church that he still attends. His parents, my paternal grandparents, were both raised Christian, but both turned away from the dogmas of faith. My mother is from California, and both of her parents, my maternal grandparents, are culturally Jewish; mom never went to temple, though. My parents always encouraged me to educate myself about the beliefs of others, with the understanding that they would support me no matter what I determined to be true. As I was growing up, I assumed that they didn’t believe in God because they’d always complain about the Christian right-wing.

  Growing up, I attended my dad’s Unitarian church. It had a good religious education program, and I was always really involved in that. It taught about different religions and encouraged us to become familiar with the stories of the Bible so that everyone in the congregation would be able to relate to our community. In Iowa, nearly everyone is Christian.

  Rather than teaching obedience to the Bible as a whole, the UU Church emphasizes its seven principles: the inherent worth and dignity of every person; justice, equity, and compassion in human relations; acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations; a free and responsible search for truth and meaning; the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large; the goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all; and respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part. I have a great respect for their values.

  Even though I was educated about Christianity, though, I still felt like an outsider in my community. I went to a standard upper-middle class, very white, very Protestant public school in a stereotypical American suburban area. All of my friends growing up believed in God, and everyone I knew was heavily involved in their church. When I was in middle school, I learned the meaning of the word “agnostic” and would self-identify with that word because it seemed socially acceptable.

  I felt very out of place. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have friends, but a lot of my really good friends would go to church together. I did not. They would have conversations about how God had helped them in their lives. I’d always sit quietly in the corner, not saying anything. By high school, I knew that I was an atheist, and I felt like I couldn’t truly share myself.

  Even though there were times when I wished that I could have been involved in religion for social reasons, my atheism never changed. I knew from a very early age, probably elementary school, that I did not believe in the Christian conception of God. For a time, I considered different, more abstract notions of a deity, but I didn’t find those possibilities satisfying either. I never had one moment at which I stopped believing in God because I don’t think I ever really believed. I had no real emotional reaction to my conclusion, although it did help that I had the UU Church behind me, as they’re supportive of atheists.

  After high school, I decided to go to the University of Northern Iowa for college. When I arrived, there was an orientation at which all of the student groups had booths set up. My parents were with me, and at one point they came up to me and said, “I think we saw something you might like.” They directed me toward a big sign that read “No God, No Problem.” I certainly did not expect to see anything like that because UNI’s student population is quite religious. I wrote down my name on their signup list, and the group contacted me about getting involved shortly thereafter.

  I remember the first brunch that I attended with the UNI group. I didn’t have a car, so one of the group members, Trevor, drove me there. Right away, he said, “I looked on your Facebook profile, and it says that you’re Unitarian. What’s that about?” I was a bit taken aback by how forward he was with the subject of our conversation, but it turned into the first of many great discussions that I had with the group’s members.

  I was immediately hooked. I loved the meetings; any issue was open for analysis. Members of the group had in-depth, intelligent dialogue with people, often disagreeing with each other on a variety of subjects, and, in the end, everyone remained friends. There were no hard feelings. I really enjoyed that.

  Since I joined, the group’s biggest successes have been simply bringing a nonreligious conversation to UNI’s campus. I can’t count how many Christian groups there are on our campus. Our group started just a few years ago, and in that short period of time, we’ve become one of the most well-known and best-run student organizations. We’re quite active on campus; our most prominent event every year is called Blasphemy Rights Day during which we emphasize the importance of free speech in the world. We also hold a monthly discussion event with other religious groups on campus, which, I think, exposes many people to a worldview that, having grown up in small-town Iowa, they’d likely never considered. We also have a tremendous sense of community. Every Sunday, we get together for brunch; we all enjoy each other’s company. The group helps me feel comfortable being nonreligious.

  People are often curious about what can be done to bring more women to the secular movement. One reason that there aren’t more women is likely because atheism is typically associated with individuals who lack emotion. People often see atheism as something that’s cold, and women generally don’t want to identify with something like that.

  I would love to see more women come out, mostly because of how my worldview has influenced me as a person. I think I’m more open-minded because I’m not religious. I know that there are plenty of open-minded religious people living in Iowa, but I think I’m more willing than most of my state’s citizens to take any claim and think about it seriously without immediately dismissing it. Most people in Iowa seem to assume that God exists, without seriously considering their position. Because I knew from a young age that I held a minority view on some important topics, I realized that I needed to consider all of my beliefs seriously.

  Despite its advantages, being an atheist does get hard sometimes. I went on a student abroad trip in Spain and had to make new friends who came from my university. When people found out that I didn’t believe in God, many of them told me that they never thought they’d be friends with an atheist. I’ve had to break down some social barriers, which is something that most people don’t necessarily have to do.

  I often think about what my life would be like if I hadn’t come to UNI, if I hadn’t gone to a school with such a strong secular group. Before I came to college, I didn’t even know that a secular movement was taking place. What we’re doing is really important because I think our activism truly influences people. If I hadn’t gotten involved in my group, I’d probably still largely identify with the UU Church.

  Despite our significant differences with religions, I think the secular movement can look at churches to understand how they attract so many people. They build environments where people feel welcome, like they have a family of people behind them, supporting them. Our group has done an amazing job emphasizing community. We try to make our freshmen feel like they have a place right away, something that’s proven to be incredibly valuable in creating cohesion. I think the secular movement can learn from us.

  Overall, I’m q
uite satisfied with my activism and with my perspective on the world. Even though I hear and read about people making rude comments about atheists, I’m confident in my worldview and know that my beliefs are right. I continue to have a lot of gratitude for this life that I have.

  XIX.

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  Hemant Mehta: Both Friendly and Atheist

  “Consider it: every person you have ever met, every person you will pass in the street today, is going to die. Living long enough, each will suffer the loss of his friends and family. All are going to lose everything they love in this world.

  Why would one want to be anything but kind to them in the meantime?”

  — Sam Harris, The End of Faith

  Rarely are the words “friendly” and “atheist” juxtaposed in American culture. But, on the internet today, one U.S. citizen is linked with that identify more than any other: Hemant Mehta. Hemant was born to Indian parents of the Jain religion. Like many others in this book, his worldview was profoundly shaped by the internet and the arguments for atheism that can be found within it. In college, largely because of the resources he found online, he became more comfortable with his worldview and began a group to socialize with his nonreligious peers.

  Following a brief stint in medical school, Hemant began writing a book, I Sold My Soul on Ebay, which was eventually published by WaterBrook Press. During his research for the book, he found, to his surprise, most religious people, Christians specifically, to be friendly and, in many instances, open-minded. Although his public atheism has been challenging at times — the Illinois Family Institute contacted the administrators of the high school at which he teaches to inform them of his heresy — Hemant continues to be both an optimist about the secular movement and an open and eager communicator with the religious community at large.