My Atheistic Rebellion

"So you admit that you don't believe in God?"

"Yes."

"Then you're an atheist!"

"No! I'm not an atheist, you don't understand!"

Read this over and over again at least once a day and you'll get a picture of what my life has been like for the past three weeks. Of course, more things have happened, I don't live a completely empty life, but for the past few weeks this conversation over my religious (or spiritual) beliefs have been a topic of at the very least minimal contention. I'm not entirely sure why there seems to be such an external push to define what I believe. I don’t understand this need to commiserate as an atheist with the group of non-believers who in their lack of ignorance have inevitably pushed themselves into hyper-awareness of their insignificance.

In order to understand why this is a big deal – at least to me, since I doubt anyone else obsesses over details the way I do – I think I need to identify and define two things. The first thing is: Why do people want to define my beliefs? And the second thing is: Why do I care so much bout remaining an odd mixture of open and closeted?

I can only speculate about why others want to call me an atheist since I have no actual evidence of their motivation. I can imagine one argument being, “Well, you are an atheist, so I just want you to admit it.” It’s not a bad argument. If you think about it, it makes sense. By my opposition’s perception of the word atheist, there may be no negative connotations. There is no problem with being identified as an atheist and there is perhaps even pleasure in the verbal emphasis of their rebellion against their parents’ traditions. Does the word atheist have negative connotations? Or am I projecting these connotations onto the word out of fear of truly accepting that there is no God?

I think the negative connotations that I associate with the word atheist are derived from a fear of branding myself as a heathen to people who do believe in a particular God. I honestly try to respect religious beliefs as long as they have been thought over deeply. Blind faith wins no respect from me, and I do not pretend that it does. However, I honestly believe that if someone has thought carefully about their spirituality and still landed upon Christianity as the solution to their inner turmoil, their beliefs are valid and worth my respect.

 From my interactions with people of varying faiths, I have found that once a Christian (Note: I say Christian only because they represent the majority of my inter-faith interactions) hears the word “atheist” they become more hesitant to open up about their beliefs. The word is off-putting; perhaps they are frightened that this “atheist” will try to heathenize them or perhaps they are just afraid of being judged for hanging onto traditions that many young people now are trying to shake off in pursuit of something fresher.

I find it more sociable to explain the details of my spirituality rather than just saying, “I’m an atheist”. My grapple with religion is a lot more nuanced than this three-syllable word and I refuse to accept that it does my lack of faith justice. Just like teenagers occasionally want to rebel against the labels of “preppy” or “jock”, I need to rebel against the label “atheist” because I feel like it doesn’t do justice to my perception of the spiritual.

The category of atheism is so broad, that it cannot possibly encompass all the different beliefs that people who don’t believe in god have. A retort might be: “That’s not even what the word means, it just describes the state of not believing in god.” And I accept that as one view of the word atheism, but to me there are more connotations that I plan to successfully avoid by refusing to define myself with the word.

I care about my spiritual anonymity; most of my philosophical beliefs I keep a secret. My thoughts are personal and I don’t feel the need to share them or force them upon anyone else. I am not scared of accepting the inexistence of a god. I have no trouble admitting that there is probably no great significance to anything I’m doing outside of humanity’s mild perception of the universe. I am not scared to say I don’t know what will happen when I die and I am not scared to admit that everything about what I believe terrifies me. These are the thoughts that keep my up at night. They leave me curled up beneath the covers absolutely petrified to actually fall asleep because acknowledging another day reminds me of my mortality and my nearing proximity to death.

Atheism is for people who need definitions, something to cling to in order to legitimatize their spirituality in the eyes of others. Humans love language; they have an innate urge to categorize and define. But, as I continue to question my existence, I doubt that I will crave this definition as much as the other people around me. In fact I abhor it, and am wont to ever accept it.