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There's something I understand better now than I used to back when I was self-identifying as a theist. I, too, was really upset that atheists were so prejudiced and bigoted and just pigeonholed any religious people they knew and assumed that if you aren't an atheist, you're an enemy. Or something.
I understand marginalization and privilege a little better now, though. Only some of it is from beginning to identify as an atheist. A lot of it's stuff I've heard from LGBT people and people of color and feminists and just... y'know, people who have experience with this stuff. Here's what I've learned about generalizing about the members (or affiliates) of organizations that hate me (or you, or someone else, or whoever).
It's hard sometimes, when someone walks up wearing the badge and uniform of one's oppressors, to assume that they don't want to be associated with the other people wearing it. It's hard for me (for example) to see someone who self-identifies as Catholic and not see an ally of the homophobia, misogyny, and just general callousness that characterizes that organization. They may not personally hate women or gays or child rape victims, but they're comfortable affiliating with an organization that plainly does, and I have to wonder at that rate whether they're true allies.
Sadly, that type of Christianity is still setting the tone in a lot of the country. While I'm supportive of the efforts of other Christians to clean up their image, I no longer feel like I should suffer at the hands of the Christian cultural system and simultaneously do their PR for them. When more Christians are like Quakers, I'll talk about them like more of them are Quakers.
I get that it's got to suck having people running around acting a fool who are using teachings from the same book as you are to do some terrible things to innocent people. It always sucks to feel like someone else has enough control over your reputation to screw with it by being bigots and just generally showing their whole ass to the world.
That's the thing, though, about continuing to wear the badge and uniform of a group that--for a lot of people--has done them nothing but personal and very tangible harm. Depending on how badly they've been hurt and for how long and how much hope they have left, they might just assume that you're an ally to the people who hurt them. They're not assuming this because they're bigoted, or bullies, or intolerant. They're assuming it because they're tired of giving chances to people who put on that uniform and then getting kicked in the face for it. So... they stop taking the risk.
I'm not quite there yet, but I've seen people get there, and it's hard for me to begrudge them. It's not hate. It's hurt, and it's weariness, and they're right. They should never have had to always be the one giving out chance after chance after chance to people who didn't take it. It's hard exhausting work, and the people I know who've given up on trying to find common ground with Christians? That's why.
So this is why I've stopped saying, "Not all straight/cis/white/etc. people are like that! Please only talk about your painful experiences in a way that protects my feelings!" and it's why I think it'd be great if Christians did, too.
I understand marginalization and privilege a little better now, though. Only some of it is from beginning to identify as an atheist. A lot of it's stuff I've heard from LGBT people and people of color and feminists and just... y'know, people who have experience with this stuff. Here's what I've learned about generalizing about the members (or affiliates) of organizations that hate me (or you, or someone else, or whoever).
It's hard sometimes, when someone walks up wearing the badge and uniform of one's oppressors, to assume that they don't want to be associated with the other people wearing it. It's hard for me (for example) to see someone who self-identifies as Catholic and not see an ally of the homophobia, misogyny, and just general callousness that characterizes that organization. They may not personally hate women or gays or child rape victims, but they're comfortable affiliating with an organization that plainly does, and I have to wonder at that rate whether they're true allies.
Sadly, that type of Christianity is still setting the tone in a lot of the country. While I'm supportive of the efforts of other Christians to clean up their image, I no longer feel like I should suffer at the hands of the Christian cultural system and simultaneously do their PR for them. When more Christians are like Quakers, I'll talk about them like more of them are Quakers.
I get that it's got to suck having people running around acting a fool who are using teachings from the same book as you are to do some terrible things to innocent people. It always sucks to feel like someone else has enough control over your reputation to screw with it by being bigots and just generally showing their whole ass to the world.
That's the thing, though, about continuing to wear the badge and uniform of a group that--for a lot of people--has done them nothing but personal and very tangible harm. Depending on how badly they've been hurt and for how long and how much hope they have left, they might just assume that you're an ally to the people who hurt them. They're not assuming this because they're bigoted, or bullies, or intolerant. They're assuming it because they're tired of giving chances to people who put on that uniform and then getting kicked in the face for it. So... they stop taking the risk.
I'm not quite there yet, but I've seen people get there, and it's hard for me to begrudge them. It's not hate. It's hurt, and it's weariness, and they're right. They should never have had to always be the one giving out chance after chance after chance to people who didn't take it. It's hard exhausting work, and the people I know who've given up on trying to find common ground with Christians? That's why.
So this is why I've stopped saying, "Not all straight/cis/white/etc. people are like that! Please only talk about your painful experiences in a way that protects my feelings!" and it's why I think it'd be great if Christians did, too.
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Date: 2011-08-06 09:29 pm (UTC)From:In liberal churches I think a lot of the huggy talky share-your-story-handholdy stuff is an attempt to introduce some feeling of community into the whole thing, but because anyone CAN show up, it makes me uncomfortable. Not just because I have social anxiety, and not just because my own religious practise tends to be more traditional and less huggy, but because anyone and everyone could be there and I don't know who I am sharing my story with.
Eeeeeyeah, I can see that. I think in your position I wouldn't be in super-duper-sharing mode, either.
In a tribal religion (like Judaism, and most pre-Christian pagan religions) everyone who has been born or adopted into the tribe belongs to the tribe, whether they believe in anything or not.
That belief matters is one of the big differences between Christianity (especially Protestant Christianity) and Judaism and also one of the big differences between tribal paganism and Neo-Paganism. That is actually one of the things Neo-Paganism derives from the fact that it is a post-Christian religion and that almost everyone who is a Neo-Pagan is a convert from a nominally Christian or culturally Jewish family who has grown up their whole life long with the belief = religion equation.
I thought this was really interesting, because for some definitions of "belief" it fits my experience, and for some it doesn't. I think if we define "beliefs" as "values," it fits perfectly. It matters to our group what you believe, because it matters to the people you're circling with whether you respect their freedom to decide certain things (such as how to initiate, or whom to be in a relationship with, or what gender to identify with if any, or whether to continue a pregnancy, etc.).
If you define it as "religious beliefs," though... it ceases to matter at all. We have a wide spectrum from atheists (of whom I think there are at least two or three, myself included) to people who specialize in dealing with ghosts to a woman who talks to fairies and another man who talks to a dragon that tells him about the future. As far as what we believe is going on around us and which stories are true, there's a really wide divergence.
I used to think that was just because orthopraxy matters more to Neo-Pagans than orthodoxy, but one of our priests sent me an article via email a bit back that changed how I looked at it. It's about how Neo-Pagan religions were cobbled together in a time when diversity couldn't be escaped, so they're frequently built to survive in a different environment than religions whose origins lie in a time when you could trust that your neighbor and the guy across the street and even the people across town probably believed more or less the same stuff you did. Because of that, being able to handle diversity can be as important to the basic nature of a lot of Neo-Pagan traditions as resisting diversity can be to a lot of monotheist traditions. So while sitting next to a homophobe in a Christian church might not be a huge problem in that circumstance, circling with one in a Neo-Pagan kind of environment prompts a lot more questions as to what the hell that person is even doing there.
This is not to say that Neo-Pagan individuals (or even Neo-Pagan groups) are always going to be better about these things than older monotheist traditions. There are too many Dianic groups for "women born women" and too many gender essentialists and heteronormativity in general (because hey, fertility cults, it's an easy pitfall) for me to say that. Wanted to give that disclaimer. Practicing a religion whose values and customs are shaped by the expectation of diversity doesn't mean members themselves always have the tools to handle it.
Unfortunately, it has the effect of forcing people who need the mystical practise to feel like they have actually done anything worshipful to make this choice between politics and fellowship and study or mysticism and getting out of your talky brain and the stress release that comes with that, which is, if you have this kind of neurological wiring--and I do think that neurological wiring has a lot to do with it--a TREMENDOUS stress release. If I can get up into that part of my brain and stay there for an hour, I may or may not be tired afterwards, but I feel so much BETTER.
I hear that. It's almost certainly more vital to you than to me, but it's also more important to me than almost any other atheists I know.
It made my handfasting interesting, because I wanted the ceremonial experience and I wanted to have the energy that I look for from rituals, but without invocation of or salutes to deities that we don't believe in. It turned out great, though, because the only blessings we needed were from each other and the community that loves us and we had that in abundance. For our group, a group that's based more on shared values and support of our common humanity than orthodox beliefs about the material world or the supernatural, this worked beautifully. I don't think that kind of arrangement would have worked in a group that's united in a different way, though.
Even a lot of atheists are sort of thrown that we had a religious commitment ceremony, because they don't always know what religious practice does aside from act as a vehicle for faith, so they don't know what could possibly be there for anybody without faith. I have a need for religious practice even though I've come to be comfortable with the idea that the stories are stories, but the practice I have doesn't happen to be one that forces me to choose between having the ritual I want and the community I want.
I picked my religious practice in large part because I like the religion as a cultural system, but if Neo-Pagans didn't show signs of working on the heteronormativity and weird gender stuff (which, from what I've seen, the Neo-Pagan community has been pretty responsive to), I absolutely would ditch them in a heartbeat. What I need is so tied up with common values that even if practicing with homophobes or transphobes or misogynists could still work for some people (because it leaves the thing they're after largely untouched), it undermines my whole reason for being there.
I need to connect with other people as much as I think some people need to feel a connection with a deity. I used to think I fell into the latter category until I visited a mosque in religion class and realized that I loved performing salat because I liked praying with the Muslims and not because I liked praying to Allah. (As you can see I would make a very poor Muslim.)