Your Stories of Atheism are heartbreaking, triumphant, angering and inspiring. They are written by you, for you in this ongoing series about how you came to identify as an atheist. If you want to send me your story, you can email me here. Please note that by doing so, you give me permission to publish it here as part of the series. If you wish to remain anonymous, please say so in your email otherwise, I will use just your first name. To read other stories, click here.
We just have one story this week, from anonymous. His story is brutal and I have to give a quick content warning for racism and violence. Please, if you can relate to this story, leave a comment or get in touch as our author is doubtful others have had experiences like his. Here he is:
I was born to a Canadian mother and a Japanese father. I have one younger brother. We all moved to Las Vegas, Nevada. My mom is a Jack Mormon and my Dad was always switching around in protestant faiths.
I can remember being told at a young age that God does not accept Asians; that their slanted eyes were a punishment for turning away from God and Jesus to look at Buddha. I was told that the eyes are the window to the soul but East Asians have black pupils, therefore they have no soul. I was told this by a pastor, quite seriously and it was the most believable and authentic conversation I have ever had with a pastor.
At school there was a noticeable mormon population, They would often bully me, the girls were often rude to me. Of course, I saw a few nice ones but I could sense that they looked down on me. I came to feel isolated and excluded from my peers. How could God make a people he didn’t love? What was the point? All the positive and loving messages felt hollow to me but I was afraid to tell anyone.
My parents didn’t always attend church but one Christmas morning my mom dragged me to her church. I had stayed up late playing video games and was not used to waking up so early, so I was dozing off during this old man’s sermon. He had been in the Korean war and my recount of his tale is blurred by my drowsiness:
“It was Christmas morning when the godless g**ks attacked. I had a feeling those monsters would. They sent boys out to kill men. I shot one in the throat and one of the boys got mad and hit me in the head with a rock. When I opened my eyes I saw the Mormon Jesus Christ on the cross. I got down on one knee and asked the lord Mormon Jesus Christ what I could do for him.”
I was nodding off and half dreaming. “Get me a towel and a gatorade,” I half imagined anti-communist Mormon Jesus saying.
Whatever he said, it was probably something stupid. After the sermon, I had a rock thrown at my head for being a “godless g**k”. My mom talked it out with that boy’s mom and there were no hard feelings between them.No less then a week later, my dad took me to his pseudo-protestant Japanese church and I was equally bored and, in a way, equally disgusted.
“Don’t they know god has no love for the Asian people? Don’t they know this whole Jesus thing is an excuse to treat other people horribly? Why would they follow this?” I asked myself while bored.
Much like their western counterparts, I found that a lot of those people were hypocrites. Namely, my aunt, who cheated on every man she was ever with.
A while later, my parents decided to try a nearer church and it was Methodist. The chruch lady struck my brother over something stupid. I dunno what it was but I remember him crying.
The years went on, my brother became a heroin addict, my dad was half into Jehavoah’s Witnesses and my brother became a jailhouse Christian. He would later go on to prison and steal from me and my mom and dad and Walmart. My mom stayed in her pseudo-liberal church.
I came out as Atheist to my parents and now, they conveniently like to “forget” that I am Atheist and will sometimes tell me to go to church with them.
My brother stabbed me in my chest and my mom lied to the police and DA saying it was an accident. She broke the commandment of not being a false witness.
She feels justified in her faith.
A majority of my life experiences paint a hypocritical picture of Christianity and all its subsets and flavours.
I don’t know how to respond to this story, except to say that this guy has got to have an incredible amount of strength to endure all of this, including being stabbed by your very own brother and having your own mom lie to protect him from being charged for it. I’m glad he’s still here to tell us his story and I hope it can reach those who can relate. Again, if you can relate to his story in any way, reach out. I’ll put you two in touch.
If you want to send me your story, you can email me here. Please note that by doing so, you give me permission to publish it here as part of the series. If you wish to remain anonymous, please say so in your email otherwise, I will use just your first name. To read other stories, click here.
Image: Creative Commons/Pixabay