Today, I want to relate my recent wanderings into two areas: drawing pictures of religious figures and toying around with web browsers. Er… They go together perfectly well, no?

Everybody Draw Mohammed Day came and went. If you’ve spent anytime reading my blog, you can probably guess that I’m not a fan of EDMD. The big, well populated atheist blogs were outwardly supportive of EDMD and they actively promoted the day once again.   Shortly after reading of their support, I spent a bit of time poking around, looking for alternative voices on this issue. I found several. I’ve linked to those voices bellow.

Draw Muhammad Day is a farce
Draw Muhammad Day Predictably Descends into Hate Fest
“Draw Mohammed Day” draws ire at SFU
Draw Muhammad Day Repost: If they mocked caricatures of the Virgin Mary in Arizona…
A Muslim Cartoonist on “Draw Muhammad Day”
Defending Free Speech Against Fundamentalist Islam?
“Draw Muhammad Day” is a stupid and destructive stunt
Draw Muhammad Day: Collectively Punishing Muslim Americans
Talk the Talk, Don’t Chalk the Chalk: Drawing a Divide With the “Draw Muhammad” Campaign

This issue has set my blood to boiling, by the way… Enough so, that I was rather uncivil with a bunch of folks on one of the larger atheist blogs. For me, this issue marks a permanent split with much of online atheism. I am done. Really done. I’ll be talking about this in greater detail during my next blog post.

Now, on to web browsers.  OK, maybe the title of this blog post should be What I’m Reading and Installing. I’ve been playing around with the newest version of Firefox a bit.  It’s version 4.  I rather like the new aesthetics and it’s also a bit faster than the previous version. As with any new version of Firefox, I always play around with new add-ons.  In case you don’t know, Firefox add-ons (or extensions) are small applications that you install within Firefox that enhance or add on to the web browser’s abilities. After a month or so of playing around, I think I’ve finally settled on my favorite add-ons:

Adblock Plus: removes ads on most webpages; particularly useful if you find that ads which blink and move are too distracting
Instant Fox: normally, Firefox lets a person type internet search terms directly into the address bar and then searches for these terms via the default search engine for your browser; this add-on enables a person to type searches directly into the address bar and use search engines other than the default search engine; typing a code letter before the search terms determines the search engine that is used
newTabURL: with this add-on, you can instruct Firefox to open new tabs to either a particular website (such as your homepage) or to the most recently copied web address
Sage: an RSS reader whose appearance is configurable via a CSS file; RSS links to your favorite blogs can be organized on the fly, via folders in your bookmarks; uses Firefox’s Live Bookmarks
Speed Dial: creates a “webpage” within Firefox that shows thumbnails/pictures for your favorite websites; the pictures can be grouped under separate categories by assigning each category to its own tab; just select the category by clicking on a tab, click on the thumbnail for the desired website, and off you go!
Status 4Evar: brings back the traditional status bar for Firefox 4 (which, for some reason, was retired when version 4 was released); allows one to configure the behavior of the status bar and the address bar
Statusbar Date: displays a highly configurable time and date display that appears on the status bar
Weather Watcher Live: displays current, daily, and hourly weather icons and a weather map within Firefox; highly configurable, including the option to use a weather map of your own choice (by supplying in the appropriate web address)
WikiLook: the most awesome dictionary definition look-up that I’ve ever encountered for Firefox; to retrieve a definition, just highlight the word in question and then hover your mouse pointer over the word; great aesthetics, too
Yet Another Smooth Scrolling: allows one to adjust the speed and movement of scrolling via the mouse wheel or arrow keys

(Some of these links take you directly to the programmer’s personal website.  You can also download each of these add-ons directly from Mozilla via this website.  Be aware that Mozilla’s website does not always have the most recent versions of add-ons.)

Happy motoring on the information super highway. Until next time…

OK, here’s a little known fact about me: I am completely fascinated by tornadoes. I’ve dreamt about tornadoes since I was a kid. They are among my favorite kinds of dreams.  Nightmare or not, I always wake up amazed and in good spirits.  I even feel an odd kind of mysticism about tornadoes. There’s something about lethal forms of weather that finds a special place in my heart.  If it can kill me, I love it: hurricanes, tornadoes, lightening, floods… you name it. Yes, I know that this is completely weird. What can I say?

I also love the movie Twister. I know it’s pure cheese, but a movie with Helen Hunt, Bill Paxton, and growling tornadoes? Could that possibly be any sexier? Plus, the special effects are waaaaay cool—especially for a movie from the 90s.  Since moving to the Twin Cities, I’ve satisfied my love of dangerous weather by watching Twister every spring. The start of tornado season isn’t complete without it.  A bowl full of popcorn, sexy costars, and angry weather patterns: could a girl ask for more?  I think not.

My love of violent weather also extends to my reading habits.  One of my favorite series of fantasy/sci-fi novels is The Weather Warden Series by Rachel Caine.  The series tells the story of a woman who is a member of a quasi-governmental agency composed of human beings who control the weather and other natural processes with their minds.  OK, so maybe that sounds a little cheesy, too, but it has angry weather (quite literally) and the main character is a hoot.

Now that I live in the Midwest, tornadoes form a far more prominent feature of my awareness during the warmer months. (Yay/crap!) I’ve always wanted to see a tornado and it seems that my new home may make my dreams come true, for better or for worse. Honestly, tornadoes actually frighten me—probably more so than the average Minnesotan—but I still would love to catch a glimpse of one.

Anyway, these past few paragraphs are my segue into presenting y’all with some really nifty tornado footage.   Before you ask, no, it didn’t happen in Minnesota.  I’m still all in one piece… physically, at least.  Anyway, two different groups of people caught video footage of a tornado that swept through Clinton, Mississippi this past Friday. The first video is shot quite a distance from the ensuing destruction but the second video is shot in such close proximity, that it makes you worry for the photographers’ lives.

Now that we’ve just watched some scarey weather footage, I would be remiss if I didn’t encourage people to brush up on tornado safety. NOAA has some excellent, detailed guidelines on how to respond in the event of a tornado. Please read that link. It may save your life some day.

Pay particularly close attention to the advisory that people not hide under highway bridges during tornadoes. First, if everyone decides to run for a highway bridge, accumulated parked cars will block the highway, thus stopping traffic flow and stranding motorists behind you. Second, hiding under a bridge is similar to hiding in a wind tunnel. That is, the structure of the bridge guides and concentrates the effects of the tornado’s wind.  To make maters worse, many people choose to hide near the underside of the bridge, near or between the bridge’s steel/cement girders.  This is the worst possible approach since the wind speed increases the further you are from the ground.  Since the wind effects are far more severe under a bridge, your chances of being impaled or maimed by flying debris are much greater. Get out of your car and hide in a ditch, instead. I’m not joking. Because the air speed is much closer to zero near the ground, you’ll be far safer.

This is Crazed Tornado Girl, signing off.  

I just discovered a blog called A Hmong Woman.  It is written by a woman who immigrated from Thailand to the US with her family when she was a young girl.  The blog grabbed my attention because there is a sizable populace of Hmong people here in the Twin Cities and I know little about this particular ethnic group.   For those who are unfamiliar with the Hmong, they are:

…an Asian ethnic group from the mountainous regions of China, Vietnam, Laos, and Thailand. Hmong are also one of the sub-groups of the Miao ethnicity (苗族) in southern China. Hmong groups began a gradual southward migration in the 18th century due to political unrest and to find more arable land.

A number of Hmong people fought against the communist-nationalist Pathet Lao during the Laotian Civil War. Hmong people were singled out for retribution when the Pathet Lao took over the Laotian government in 1975, and tens of thousands fled to Thailand seeking political asylum. Thousands of these refugees have resettled in Western countries since the late 1970s, mostly the United States but also Australia, France, French Guiana, and Canada. Others have been returned to Laos under United Nations-sponsored repatriation programs. Around 8,000 Hmong refugees remain in Thailand.

Please read the rest of the Wikipedia article for more details.

The author of A Hmong Woman just penned an article about what it’s like to be a mother who is being pressured to continue having  children until a son is born.  Hmong culture favors having sons over daughters and consequently, a fair amount of pressure is applied to Hmong parents until at least one son is in the mix.  She already has two daughters, is satisfied with two children, and refuses to bow to cultural pressures.

She also wrote an article describing tensions she has witnessed between people of the traditional Hmong religion of Shamanism and Christianity.

Someone in the comment thread of the previous article linked to a lengthy but very interesting essay on the history of the introduction of Christianity to the Hmong people.  It explores in detail the kind of cultural ferment and conflict that takes place as two religions—Animism and Christianity—blend together to form a cultural synthesis.  It’s very engaging stuff if you’re a sociology geek like me.  I’m about a quarter of the way through the article and I am looking to finishing it this evening.  (See note below.***)

And now, for the completely frivolous, Time Magazine has posted a series of photos exploring Muammar Gaddafi’s clothing.  Holy cow, does that man have a breadth of fashion taste!  Many of his outfits are quite beautiful, actually.

OK, I’m off to see the wizard.  See ya later…

***PLEASE NOTE: As I was reading more of the article on the introduction of Christianity to the Hmong, I realized that this article is posted on the website of a Christian missionary association whose goal is to spread Christianity among the Hmong.  Nevertheless, the webpage describes the essay as, “an article written by a non-Christian Hmong in the USA examining Hmong conversion to Christianity and the cultural conflicts that develop within the Hmong community.”

During the past year, I immersed myself in the world of internet non-believers.  Although I am hardly a newcomer in my own disbelief of deities, I had never bothered to read the words of other non-believers.  My primary focus had been sociology, sex/gender, feminism, and LGBT issues.

This past year has proven to be a learning experience.  After a year of atheist immersion, I find myself missing feminism, in spite of its flaws.  It’s amazing how much one can learn to appreciate home while traveling abroad.

Odd, that.

One of feminist theory’s strengths is that it recognizes that people’s identities are complex constructs that include influences and experiences from a whole host of demographic characteristics.  How one experiences social forces is complicated by a variety of contributing factors that extend far beyond sex and gender.  One is not merely female or male (or something beyond that dichotomy).  One’s identity also includes one’s race, class, sexual orientation, gender expression, age, geographic origin, and so on.  Out of this recognition of intersectionality flows a far more detailed understanding of how people experience discrimination and prejudice.  While feminism’s real-life implementation of this approach can leave something to be desired, I have found that it still tends to yield a far more nuanced understanding of social issues than the native perspectives of other philosophical pursuits.

An intersectional approach has been largely absent in the writings of atheists and agnostics.  While I suspect that many non-believers might roll their eyes and dismiss such concerns as “politically correct babble”, it might actually provide a deeper understanding of what non-believers experience in a culture that is dominated by theistic philosophies.

At its root, non-believers are a body of people whose perspectives on spiritual and religious matters place them in a minority position. Like any minority, they face specific kinds of discrimination and negative attitudes which are perpetrated by the majority/dominant populace.  Those who embrace the dominant spiritual and religious beliefs are accorded certain privileges that work toward the collective benefit of their group.  Those who do not share the views of the dominant populace face certain kinds of disadvantages and these disadvantages impact non-believers in ways that constrict their lives.  These disadvantages and privileges are structured into common social conventions and many social and governmental institutions.

The above paragraph is easily modified to describe virtually any minority populace who faces discrimination and oppression.  There are common classes of experiences shared by various minority populaces because those populaces all exist as outgroups in relation to a more powerful and usually more numerous ingroup.

From what I’ve witnessed, it seems as though the newest batch of atheists and agnostics are just starting to realize the scope of this reality.  There’s a lot of emphasis on lining up one’s ideological ducks to ensure proper, logical thinking regarding the existence of deities, the evolutionary origin of life, and general scientific concepts, but the discourse grows a bit thin when it comes to more sociological matters.  There’s certainly a general awareness of being a minority viewpoint, but in many respects, people seem to be “reinventing the wheel” when it comes to grappling with the social dynamics that govern non-believers’ struggles with the dominant culture.

In some ways, I think this reflects a divide that I have encountered in the academic world.  Rarely did I see intermingling take place between those who hailed from the social sciences and humanities vs. those who hailed from the biological sciences, physical sciences, and engineering.  I was one of the few students whose eclectic academic pursuits took her into both realms of academia.  The divide was striking and as best I could tell, reflected two very different ways of encountering and understanding the world.

The current batch of vocal non-believers seems to embrace a way of approaching the world that reflects the biological and physical science backgrounds of some of the more popular atheist authors.   While this is useful in backing up one’s philosophical positions with evidence from the natural world, it largely misses the mark when trying to grapple with issues of a social hue.

Numerous questions come to mind.  How does being an atheist impact one’s relationship with others?  What does it mean to be an atheist mother raising children in a Christian society?  Since women are still seen as the primary caretakers of children, and thus responsible for their moral guidance, does this reduce the likelihood of women embracing atheism?  How does one handle being atheist if one hails from an ethnicity whose cultural traditions center upon religion?  Do secular gatherings meet the needs of single mothers and fathers?  Are they impacted differently?  How does a childhood filled with negative messages about atheists impact one’s sense of self and one’s attitudes toward other non-believers as an adult non-believer?  How does religious and cultural pluralism benefit all philosophical and spiritual minorities, including atheists and agnostics?  How does it exclude them and how can pluralism be modified so that this is remedied?  Could a shared history of discrimination make natural allies of atheism and oppressed minority faiths?  Can internalized negative attitudes toward non-believers impact the emotional well being of atheists and agnostics and contribute toward higher levels of conflict in their organizations?  If one is poor and strongly depends upon the support of one’s family and community, how likely is one to risk ostracism by rejecting the religious traditions of family and community?  Does this introduce class issues into the topic of atheism?  How does coming out as a non-believer impact one’s familial relationships when one has already experienced prior strain upon those relationships by coming out as LGBT?  How do the privileges of religious people lead to the exclusion of non-believers from the many social institutions that are geared toward fostering social ties, social networking among professionals, and community support in times of need?  How does this exclusion effect a person when one faces other forms of oppression such as racism, homophobia, and sexism?

Yes, I have seen atheist/agnostic writers try to tackle some of these questions, but they often seem to be doing this in a vacuum.  There has been some recognition that there is a commonality shared with the experiences of LGBT people.  This is not surprising since LGBT issues have been widely scrutinized by the public during the past ten to fifteen years.  LGBT people are impacted negatively by dominant religious beliefs, just as non-believers are.  The connection is an obvious one and thus fosters a natural association between the two issues.  However, non-believers largely miss the intersection of their own experiences with those who hail from other communities.  (Plus, other than the occasional news article, I see little evidence that straight, non-transgender atheists/agnostics have actually read much literature produced by LGBT people.)  There is a goldmine of information out there if one looks for it.  The foundation for understanding such questions has already been laid by others.  Hence, there is a need to broaden one’s base of knowledge.  Otherwise, one is left to waste time and energy covering ground that has already been explored.

So, what do I recommend?  Above all, diversify your reading. There are piles upon piles of books, blogs, magazines, professional journals, and web resources written by people who come from other minority backgrounds.  Read about the struggles of African Americans, women, LGBT people, farm laborers, religious minorities, the poor, immigrants, and so on.  Pick up an introductory text for sociology or anthropology.  If you are a college student, take courses that explore queer theory, women’s studies, and racial oppression. Learn how social forces interplay between groups in conflict.  Think about how other people’s experiences resemble and differ from your own.

Be forewarned: what you learn might very well make you feel uncomfortable at first.  From what I’ve been able to surmise, the more active parts of the atheist community seem to be largely populated by white males who lie outside of the LGBT spectrum of identities.  Consequently, as a good number of you explore these materials, many of your assumptions and privileges are going to be challenged and that’s never a comfortable endeavor.  Nevertheless, you will develop a more nuanced understanding of your own experiences as a member of a minority group by understanding how others have coped with discrimination and prejudice.

Furthermore, if you want to foster environments that attract non-believers from beyond the usual demographic pool of middle class guys with light complexions, you’ll need to understand the perspectives of those who tend to shy away from atheist gatherings.  You might discover that you have certain attitudes that inadvertently create discomfort in those people outside of your particular group.  Speaking as a transgender person and a woman, there are certain blind spots in the atheist community that annoy me and thus serve to alienate me.  Given some of the spectacular scuffles I’ve seen in the atheist blogosphere lately, I’m guessing that I’m not alone.

Besides, venturing beyond one’s usual haunts can give one new perspectives on prior bodies of knowledge. My foray into the atheist blog world has certainly helped me realize the importance of what I learned from feminism and it has given me a more nuanced understanding of my own “home-base” of philosophies.  I strongly suspect that other non-believers could benefit similarly.  Venture outside of your comfort zone.  Learn.  Isn’t that part of the spirit of empiricism?

I’m not surprised. It would have been weird to have had a slew of atheists agree that one of the most popular atheist publications ever written was a bit too snarky, shoddily written, and lacking in objectivity. I would have pinched myself to see if I was dreaming or perhaps assumed that I am actually living in The Matrix. Alas, The Matrix is a figment of Hollywood’s imagination and here in the real world, I appear to stand in the minority position.

Why is this?

I think this might be a question of timing and perhaps a touch of life experience.

I’m left thinking about my days as a budding feminist, some twenty years ago. I remember reading fiery texts written by a good number of radical authors. It was a bracing experience and spoke to my own travails as a gender variant person. These authors addressed the ways in which the social construction of gender brings forth a variety of nasty consequences that harm anyone at the wrong end of the gender hierarchy. It was quite affirming and I voraciously read these materials while taking college courses which addressed these issues. I even jumped headfirst into feminist political activism. In time, I came to refer to myself as a radical feminist and was proud to do so.

Sadly, after a number of years had passed, I began to notice a problem. While radicalism’s single-mindedness can accomplish great deeds, it can also lead to a place of hatred and ill will. When one’s radicalism is focused upon fighting prejudiced philosophies, deeds, and institutions, what does one do when radicalism brings forth its own form of prejudice? Does this not become self defeating? Does it reproduce the same patterns of social interaction that one seeks to remedy?

I wrote this a little while ago:

Radical feminism appealed to me because it placed the blame for the fucked up ways of patriarchy squarely upon men’s shoulders. No words were minced. No excuses were made. Radical feminism was a fiery, take-no-shit approach to dealing with sexist oppression. It appealed to me because its intensity reflected my own anger and hurt. Finding one’s anger and hurt reflected in a philosophy and a movement can be a beautiful thing. It can provide a space of healing. It places the blame for the crazy messed-up feelings upon the true source of your pain and it makes no apologies. It turns the pain away from your core and aims it outward. It brings relief from self-hatred. It brings relief from the craziness. It’s powerful. It’s wonderful. It allows you to simply grow.

There is a danger, though. If one fails to move forward—beyond the hurt and the brokenness—one can become mired in anger, hatred and fear.

For me, boys and men came to embody everything that was broken in society. They inherited privilege, embraced violence, and reveled in the hate and abuse that they foisted upon women and girls. They came to symbolize the essence of hatred and violence. Deep down, that’s how I felt about them.

Interestingly, this captures how I once felt about most Christians and a good number of people from other religions. As a bisexual trans woman who doesn’t believe in a god, I’ve felt my share of hatred toward the religious. There’s a heaping mound of childhood abuse that I can pin squarely on the shoulders of the religious, just as I can pin that abuse upon males’ shoulders.

Consequently, I’ve spent a fair portion of my adult life dismissing the majority of religious people as evil fucks.  So too, I’ve spent a fair portion of my adult life dismissing the majority of men and boys as evil fucks.  There’s a pattern here and it’s one I’d rather not indulge. Years of hatred and fear can lead to bad places, even when you feel that your hatred and fear are justified.

You might say that you are free of such emotions, but there’s an important thing to keep in mind: one can lie to oneself about the extent of that hatred and fear. If you’re trying to build a better world by challenging the prejudice you find there, then you can’t be guilty of the same problems, correct? That would be hypocrisy. So, you pretend that these emotions aren’t really there:

I pasted on a kind, understanding face when I interacted with them, but at my core, I didn’t trust them. I saw them as inherently flawed and dangerous creatures.

At the same time, I told myself that it was unjust to hate males simply because they are male. That’s prejudice and it’s bad. So, I pretended that I didn’t really hate them. I wanted to be understanding and open-minded, you see. I tried to tolerate them in spite of myself.

The question is, how does one tolerate a group of people when the lens one sees them through focuses upon their flaws? How does one ward off feelings of ill will toward the people one sees as actively bringing harm into the world:

There is a danger in radicalism. Yes, it places blame for oppression squarely upon the shoulders of those who deserve blame. In many respects, radicalism provides a very clear image of how power works in an oppressive system. I’ve no complaints about that. It’s a strength that has fostered wave upon wave of positive change in society. The problem is that radicalism can sometimes lead to defining responsibility for oppression as the sole characteristic of the group in power. In so doing, this can foster the perception that members of the dominant group are capable of nothing more than violence and abuse. Therein lie the seeds of dehumanization and hatred. Therein lie the seeds of prejudice and violence.

This is why I look for balance in a book about religion and spirituality. I want to remind myself that human beings are more than a composite of their flaws. I want to recognize the good, the bad, and the neutral aspects of the world’s religions. An incomplete picture paints a prejudiced portrait and we human beings have a talent for producing such flawed works. The only means I have available to curb my own hatred and fear of the other, is to recognize the other person’s full humanity and know that we both share the flaws and strengths of humankind.

So, I do understand the appeal of books such as The God Delusion. They bring the flaws of religion—or more precisely, Christianity—to the surface and they hold them to the light, glistening in clear relief. If one has been abused by religion and seeks to escape its tenacious and ubiquitous grasp, these writings will find resonant ears. At the start of one’s journey away from the oppression of one’s relinquished faith, these words are a balm and they sooth wounds inflicted by past injustice.

As one travels further along this journey, however, does a greater complexity come into view? Do the words one found solace in at the start of this process come to reveal their own flaws? What if these flaws map a journey whose terminus is an emotional and intellectual cul-de-sac?

What does one do then?

Where does one turn?

1.  Most of what Dawkins discusses is ground I’m already familiar with.  Part of this I can attribute to the widely popular nature of the book and the infusion of its ideas into the blogosphere and wider atheist discourse.  I suppose I can attribute the rest of my familiarity with having been a non-believer for twenty years or so.

2. I find Dawkins’ attempts at contemptuous humor toward believers to be deeply off-putting.  You can make your point without being a jerk.  However, I do realize that being a jerk sells books because it attracts controversy and thus, far greater levels of attention.  Alternatively, perhaps he is trying to entertain his readers and venting frustration, too?  How well does that approach work if you are trying to talk to anyone who isn’t already an atheist or agnostic, or at the very least, leaning heavily in that direction?  I’m guessing that the general populace of believers wasn’t his target audience.

3.  His references are quite sloppy when compared to academic writing.  There are many quotes and borrowed concepts throughout the book that lack endnotes or  footnotes.  I doubt that Dawkins is making stuff up, but I do see this as lazy writing.  That may be fine for the informal world of blogging, but if you are trying to write a book that encourages skepticism, rigorous references would be useful. I expected more from a person who hails from the world of academia.  Besides, gosh darn it, it would be nice for his readers to be able to look up his sources and reuse those quotes and concepts in other venues.

4. Dawkins shines when he is discussing science.  His discussions of evolution and cosmology were quite eloquent and held my interest more than any other part of the book—at least so far.  The man is gifted in this respect and his experience as a scientist shows.  His writing flows with articulate grace when he presents scientific concepts in digestible prose for the layperson.

5. When Dawkins discusses non-scientific topics, his writing seems to meander a bit.  I found myself skimming out of boredom.  I know that part of my boredom comes with my familiarity with these topics.  The thing is, I was already familiar with much of the science that Dawkins presents, and yet, those passages held my full attention.  In some places, it even sent chills up my spine.

6. His critiques mostly focus upon the Abrahamic concept of a deity and/or spiritual concepts.  He focuses upon Christianity in particular.  What about other deities from other spiritual practices?  What about religions that don’t center upon a deity?  This is a weakness that I see in many atheists’ critiques of religion (including my own critiques).  Maybe he’ll get to that later in the book?

So far, I find myself yearning for a book that isn’t The God Delusion.  The book that I would like to read would be an anthology upon religion that has contributions from authors across many disciplines: biology, anthropology, sociology, psychology, cosmology, history, philosophy, etc.  It would be nice to read a book on religion with perspectives that aren’t solely filtered through the experience and knowledge base of someone who specializes in the biological sciences.  Dawkins tries to make The God Delusion a kind of “Jack of all trades” and consequently, sometimes his presentation of the topic seems a bit thin.  I can sense when Dawkins is explaining concepts that aren’t native to his discipline (ethology and evolutionary biology) and I suspect this is one of the greatest weaknesses of the book.  Kudos to Dawkins for trying to discuss the topic across such a broad diversity of fields of study, but still, I am left wanting more.

Also, my “dream anthology” would strongly tone down the “theists are idiots” attitude.  I guess what I’m looking for is a book that is far more scholarly in nature, and I would hope that such attitudes wouldn’t tend to pass muster within that genre. You can challenge someone’s ideas without being mean spirited.

Plus, as my regular readers already realize, I don’t see spiritual and religious folk as mentally challenged, schizoid basket cases.  I may find their beliefs inscrutable and beyond credibility, but I’m still happy to share conversation and coffee with them.  Although this might sound odd to some nonbelievers, I’m open to learning a thing or two about myself and humanity during the course of such a conversation.  Hell, I’ve even been head over heels in love with a few religious/spiritual folk.

I know: I’m probably tainted by religious people cooties.  I’m damaged goods.  You probably should ignore me. 

Anyway, I do realize that being a minority in a world of believers certainly leads to a good bit of frustration because of the  marginalization and discrimination that we face, but nevertheless, angry contempt will only take us so far.  Take a tip from the way LGBT folks have fostered their move deeper into the mainstream: let people get to know you as human beings and show them that your lives are as mundane as theirs are.  Publicly insulting large portions of humanity is guaranteed to earn a lot of attention in a short period of time, but the animosity that is generated will only work to counter the long term goal of moving out of the margins and into common society.  Hatred and contempt reap hatred and contempt.

I do understand that The God Delusion is in some respects, the first of its kind: a wildly popular book that discusses a basis for atheism and does so by approaching the topic from many angles.  There’s no doubt that it has drawn a good deal of attention and generated a lot of discourse.  Nevertheless, I’m still longing for something more.  I’m going to try to finish the remainder of the book, but sometimes I find my attention wandering to the scenery outside my window…

PS: If anyone knows of a book that fits the criteria of “my dream anthology”, please let me know.  I’d love to read it.

PPS: My pre-existing dislike of Dawkins’ haughty attitude led me to purchase my copy of the book used.  I’d rather not give my money to that guy, even if it passes through the hands of a corporate proxy.

I realize that some people will dismiss this new rule as a “politically correct” restriction of intellectual debate.  Tough crackers.  There are plenty of ways to tell another person that you feel they are mistaken without insulting them.  If you feel particularly attached to using this kind of verbiage, there are many venues where you are free to do so.  My blog is not one of them.

That is all.

Edited to add:

It also occurs to me that using the terms delusion and delusional is an attempt to employ the social stigma surrounding mental illness as a means of denigrating another person in a discussion.  This is a manifestation of prejudice against people who suffer from mental illness and is yet another reason why I will not tolerate this kind of language in this blog space.  As with any words that employ prejudice as an epithet, I deplore such language.

You will be warned only once.  Persisting in using this language will result in being permanently banned from participating in commenting.

One of the larger, popular atheist blogs asked people to describe in five words or less what their experience of becoming an atheist was like.  Because I tend to be so verbose, this was no easy task.  I came up with this:

It was a non-event.

Of course, four words leaves out a whole lot of back-story.

The defining moment for me did not occur when I let go of my belief in a god.  It occurred when I stopped believing in Christianity. When I let go of Christianity, it was sweet relief: relief from being condemned by an angry, hateful Christian deity for being LGBT, relief from the fear of suffering in hell, and relief from a set of social codes that were far too restrictive and didn’t make sense. Nevertheless, I didn’t stop believing in a god. I only stopped believing in the kind of god who endorsed common prejudices and social beliefs regarding gender and sexuality.  I stopped believing that god looked favorably upon organized religion and human kind’s tendency to use religion to control others.

My belief in a generic, religion-free god wasn’t really a burden.  However, questioning the legitimacy and relevance of my childhood religion eventually led me to question the existence of all deities.  Seeing some of the worst sides of Christianity during my childhood, in my family, and out in the world, led me to distrust almost anyone who believed in a god. So, I continued my belief in a god for a brief period of time and then shifted to pure agnosticism.   Over the course of several years, I transitioned to solid atheism.

The moment I finally stopped believing in a god, it was almost a non-event.  I can’t place exactly when it happened and it wasn’t a major revelation.  It was like noticing a pattern in the wallpaper that had been there for so many years, but went unseen.  One day, in my mid-twenties, it simply “clicked”: the human notion of god was nothing more than an act of projecting the human psyche upon the universe.  We anthropomorphize the universe in an attempt to understand it and feel more comfortable with it.

Years have passed and since then, my feelings toward religion have softened.  I’ve met a lot of fabulous Christians.  I’ve gotten to know people from a variety of other deity-centered faiths who are decent folk.  Religion is no longer the big hairy monster I once saw it to be.  With these experiences, my fear and distrust of religious people have eased.  Even so, I still feel very little trust and respect for repressive, conservative people of faith.  I doubt this will ever change for I have good reason to strongly dislike such people.  Nevertheless, I have grown comfortable with religious people who are humane and open-minded in their faith practices.  I see beauty and worth in those religions which embrace a caring, empathy-centered ethic and truly welcome all people from all walks of life.

I have also softened my regard toward the existence of deities.  I still find the deities of organized religion to lack credibility, but I firmly believe that it’s impossible to prove or disprove the existence of deities should one leave the finer details of such entities completely open.  The formless god that I came to believe in after letting go of Christianity is the god I hold no opinion upon.  She, he or they may exist, or they may not.  I do not know.  However, religion usually tries to color in the details, and that’s why I find religious notions of god/goddess/etc. from across the globe to lack credibility.  They try to define the inscrutable.

Because of my partial agnosticism, I feel intellectually neutral toward a lot of theists, polytheists, and other spiritual folk.  I don’t feel the need to try to convince people that their beliefs are unfounded.  Furthermore, my dirty little secret as a “partial atheist” is that I have my own godless, oddball spirituality, and consequently, I tend to be demur in the presence of other spiritual folk.  I like my coffee black with sugar.  You like yours with milk.  Who am I to argue?

So, in the larger scheme of my life, finding my atheism was a non-event.  I don’t feel a desire to tell theists they believe in unusual things.  I still have my own version of woo, although I’ve rarely explained the details to anyone.  I think proving or disproving the existence of deities is an act of futility, comparable to peeing into a gale-force wind.  My philosophy can be summed up as this: if someone’s beliefs aren’t hurting people, then I probably should mind my own damned business.  If, on the other hand, someone is using their beliefs as a weapon of social repression, I will challenge them without pause or remorse.

On the whole, I suspect that my beliefs probably annoy the crap out of both atheists and theists of a more radical flavor.  The mischievous part of me enjoys annoying people who are annoying, so I’m cool with that.

So, I have a few questions for the tiny number of readers at my blog.  What was it like to discover your non-belief or belief in a deity?  What did it mean to you?  How did it feel?  Did it change your life?

Please be gentle with each other, y’all.  I have a moderator’s stick and I know how to use it. 

Oh, and since I’m a wordy lass, I’ll forgive you if you write a long comment.  No five word restrictions at my blog.  No sirree!

Sometimes we atheists are full of shit.

There. I said it.

Do you see the billboard at the top of this blog post? It’s the latest in a billboard campaign sponsored by a group called the American Atheists. It warms the heart, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it make you want to go out and give one of us a big hug?

It reminds me of why I so often want to separate myself from the label atheist. The more I see things like this, the more I feel that agnosticism is my preferred home turf. Sometimes, I even find myself wanting to believe in a deity just to piss off some of my more obnoxious atheist compatriots.

*sigh*  Lets set aside the sarcasm for a short moment and look at this a little more closely.

The term scam implies a conscious intent to deceive others and exploit that deception for personal gain.  So, according to the billboard, all religions are scams.  Hence, all religions are designed and run with the purpose of using religious belief as a vehicle in deceiving others and the people who are associated with these institutions use that deceit for their own personal gain.

Since we’re talking about billboards, let’s put a visual to this.  This, according to our friends at American Atheists, is the incarnation of all religions and the people associated with them:

Does this reflect reality?

Perhaps I’m a little reality-challenged, but as best I can tell, tons of religious people and their leaders are quite sincere in their beliefs and they also believe that they bring good into the world via their faith. You may think that god and various other supernatural concepts are complete bunk, but that doesn’t mean others’ beliefs are automatically corrupt plots to hurt the unwary.  Do you folks actually know any religious people?  Not the virtual ones you shout at from your internet forums and your expensive conventions, but, you know: actual, real-life religious people?

I know a number of religious folks personally—one is even a pastor at a church—and as much as I don’t believe in a deity, I still recognize that they are decent folk who are sincere in their beliefs and they have the best intentions at heart. Heck, except for a god-belief, I pretty much share many of their values and I see their church supporting the same causes I support. (I’m thinking of a particular progressive congregation as I’m writing this.) God or no god, I still respect them as human beings. If I were to say they were part of a scam I would be coming from a place that is incredibly mean-spirited.

How many people employ their sincerely held beliefs to deceive others for their own personal gain and do so with every intention of bringing good into the world? Does that sentence even make sense?

As a non-believer, this billboard reminds me of why I feel uneasy with people on both sides of the god debate. We both have a habit of painting the other side with extremely broad brush strokes.  There are mounds and mounds of dark spirited verbiage launched between the two camps on a daily basis. I wish people on both sides would just shut up for a while and contemplate each other’s common humanity. Instead, we denigrate each other as the epicenter of villainy. We call each other names. All the while, we assure ourselves of our own wholesome, wondrous superiority.

Yay for us. Fuck the other people. Sometimes, it seems as though that’s our common refrain.

Put another way, the noisiest people on both sides tend to spew invective at the other without the intent of anything approaching meaningful communication.  It makes both sides look like a bunch of shallow, mean-spirited assholes. If that’s the kind of image that people want to project, by all means, put up some more billboards just like this one. I’m sure the more obnoxious Christians on the other side of this issue will answer these billboards with something equally vile.

Then, we can all be satisfied with having wasted our money on maintaining our hateful, two-dimensional perceptions of other people.

We could use that money to help poor people, flood victims, or war refugees, but hey, who cares?  We’ve got bigger fish to fry.  Shouting stupid, ugly things is more important.

God, if you exist, can I move to a different planet? Maybe another universe?

A belief in hell is one of the aspects of Christianity that I find to be completely abhorrent. Not all versions of Christianity emphasize or discuss the existence of hell, but you can be sure that the further to the right Christian theology leans, the more integral hell becomes.

As a child, hell was a concept that I lived in constant fear of. You see, I was a gender variant, LGBT child. I realized that I was different from other children sometime in the first or second grade. I kept this realization to myself, knowing that my difference was a sign of a “sick” and “defective” character. I realized that god hated who I was, but in spite of this knowledge,  my best efforts failed to change my defective character.  I suspected that god would most likely punish me for my corrupt nature and consequently, I lived in constant fear of his wrath.

Let me tell you, living under this kind of fear is really destructive to a child’s emotional well-being. I lived in fear that I would suffer in hell for all eternity. I remember spending my idle moments during summer vacation obsessing about death. The thought that I would die someday would enter into my young mind unbidden and would grip me with a single notion: when I leave this earthly plane, god will cast his judgment upon me and banish me into eternal torment. I will be alone, suffering unspeakable, unending torture. My future held only darkness… unending, torturous darkness.

I was just a little kid. I had no emotional defenses against this horror. I lived in terror of my future and I hadn’t even left elementary school. I obsessed over every little fault in my character and mistake in my actions. I confessed any possible wrong doing to my parents in the hope that I could compensate for my incurable “sickness.” Hopefully, if I was an extra good child, god would overlook my corrupt nature and allow me into heaven. I was wracked by guilt and obsessed with walking the straight and narrow. My parents were annoyed by my constant confessions and they had no idea why I was behaving this way. Eventually, the magnitude of their annoyance won out and I ceased my odd behavior.

Just before adolescence,  I stopped attending church and Sunday school.  Thankfully, as time passed, my fear of hell began to subside.  My obsession with death faded into a bad memory.  I made the decision to reject Christianity when I was 17. It took a good twenty years before I could walk into a Christian church and not feel sick to my stomach.

I am going to be blunt: the concept of hell is an abusive, sick belief to teach to a little kid. My childhood experience with the fear of hell is the primary reason I grew to hate all religion with a burning passion, and this hatred lasted for many years. This generalized hatred for religion eventually subsided, but on some level, I still feel a sense of animosity toward more traditional variations of Christianity. The damage that Christianity did to me as a child was simply barbaric. There is no better word to describe the cruelty of a spiritual philosophy that emotionally tortures young children and in the process, damages their psyches. I make no apologies for the bitterness I feel toward traditional Christianity, for that bitterness is well deserved.

When I think of the hell-believing Christians in the world, there’s something that I just don’t understand about these people: why do they even trust their god? Let’s think about the moment of creation. Here we have an entity that is about to create the world and all of the living things on it. This entity, being all knowing, is aware that some of the people it will create are going to do things that will eventually displease it. Nevertheless, it creates the world and its inhabitants anyway, it finds that it is displeased with some of the inhabitants (surprise, surprise), and it then decides to torture those humans for all eternity. And the real clincher is that it knew from the start, that it was creating feeling, aware beings who it would eventually subjected to an eternity of pain and suffering. Oddly, it uses the excuse of, “I’m not the one doing this to you. Because of the flaws I created within you, you ‘freely’ choose to engage in actions that displease me. Hence, you are responsible for the never-ending suffering and pain you will experience in hell.” God also created Satan, fully knowing Satan’s future role in tormenting human souls. Since god created everything that exists, this also means that god created hell. Hence, hell is a god-created torture chamber and Satan was created to serve as the master of those environs.

Hell-believing Christians can try to portray their god with all the loving, flowery imagery they want. Their god created living, feeling creatures knowing that it would condemn some of them to eternal pain and suffering. Being all powerful, it could choose to create a universe where its inhabitants are not subject to the grisly horror of eternal torment. Rather than unending torture, it could extinguish an offending soul’s existence or it could even choose to correct the flaw that offended it in the first place.  However, this entity chooses not to do so.  Instead, god chooses torture over viable alternatives.

There is no way to avoid the fact that their god is a sadistic, evil entity. Knowing that their deity behaves in a sadistic, evil way, why trust it? So what if god claims it will put people in heaven if they follow its rules. Really? Given the sadistic nature of their god, how do they know it won’t change its mind and toss them onto a bed of sharp stakes repeatedly, for all eternity, simply because it is amused by their pain? Just remember, according to the bible, god drowned most of humanity in a world-wide flood. In the story of Job, god and Satan conspired to make god’s most favored follower suffer through countless torments while he was still alive, just to test Job’s faith.  If torture and suffering is what god imposes upon its least favored, the world at large, and its most faithful, can you really trust god?  At the very least, god doesn’t seem to play nicely with its toys.

If this is the entity that runs the universe, we are all severely and thoroughly fucked: faithful follower and non-believer alike.

The sad thing is, this teaches children and adults that violence, brutal retaliation, and revenge are divine. The highest authority in all creation condones unending pain and suffering as just retribution for anything from incorrect theological beliefs to falling in love with the wrong person.

I know that many traditional Christians see their religion and their god as “loving”, but lying deep within traditional Christianity’s beliefs is a terrible cruelty and violence. Traditional Christians are expected to love, with all their heart, a figure that will hurt and torture them if they do not obey its wishes. They are taught to see brutality as acceptable behavior in a figure who is portrayed as having a loving, caring nature. They are taught to see this relationship as healthy and affirming and they are socialized into this kind of thinking from childhood onward.

Anyone who has survived an abusive relationship with an adult family member or a romantic partner should realize that this kind of theology models the psychology of an abusive relationship and essentially places a stamp of divine morality upon it. Put another way, this theological model teaches children that an abusive relationship is healthy and affirming.  This model teaches children to normalize an association between brutality, love, and authority.

As I implied earlier, I know that there are Christians out there who do not buy into the notion of hell. I don’t have a problem with those particular believers. As for the rest of you: you are teaching barbaric, emotionally damaging beliefs to defenseless young children. You are teaching your kids to love an irrational, sadistic, abusive entity. You are teaching children to associate justice and authority with cruelty and abuse. You are teaching children that this is good and wholesome. Have you really thought this through? You are maiming their psyches.  You are defiling their innocence.  How can you do this and look yourself in the mirror each morning?

This is as disgusting as it is disturbing and it needs to stop.  Not tomorrow and not next year…  It needs to stop now.