My initial thought was "Oh, what a nice sentiment. I'll let someone with actual biases tackle that one." Throughout the week, I was disappointed to see that no one would claim it. In a small way, it actually frustrated me. I thought to myself, I won't overcome my prejudice against neo-nazis. Which is still true. I am prejudice towards anyone who outwardly aligns themselves with that group of people. However, I ended up taking this item anyway, and as I was brainstorming, I kept returning to one group of people: Fundamentalist Christians.
Perhaps this is strange to some of the people reading this. I was, after all, born in rural Arkansas. I attended a Southern Baptist church as a child and eventually was baptized in my grandparents' United Methodist church. I even spent the majority of my high school career volunteering for the church in every way that I could. But even then, I found myself deeply uncomfortable when I was in the same space as a Fundamentalist.
Note that I may make the mistake of interchanging "Fundamentalist" with "Southern Baptist". I realize that this is a gross misunderstanding of the term and it only proves my inherent biases.
My discomfort began at a very young age. I grew up in a family that was ideologically split between Christianity and Atheism. And although Atheism was the minority, even in my family, it manifested in the two people closest to me at that time: my mother and my uncle. My mom was quick to educate me on the importance of separation of church and state. She fostered empathy in me for people of other religions who might feel uncomfortable in a school like my own, where we prayed before every football game and had religious figures visit the school to give thinly-veiled sermons with some secular message attached to it. (It was very much "Don't drink alcohol and I'll see you at church on Wednesday, right?") As a kid struggling to find her religious space in the world, these things made ME uncomfortable. I often felt as though my identity didn't belong, not even because I was a different religion but just because of the fact that I had doubts at all!
And this is where the trouble really started. Because in my limited experience, Fundamentalist Christians have not given me the space to have doubt.
Then, I began attending a Southern Baptist church with my best friend. We went every Wednesday, although sometimes we would skip and hang out in the graveyard and tell ghost stories. (In retrospect, this was dangerous and disrespectful, but hey. I was an otherwise incredibly well-behaved kid, so sue me.)
I remember three key events which began to completely erode at my soul.
The first occurred when it was time for an annual youth event. I had never been to one and a lot of my friends were going, so I begged them to take me along. I remember very clearly telling them that I didn't have the money to pay for the event myself, and them sighing and saying that it was fine, the church could take care of it. It was their tone of voice that held the real sentiment, though: "You are a newer member and we could really care less whether or not you're there." This essentially set the tone for the rest of the trip. The youth leaders ignored me and made me feel extremely lonely in a room filled with hundreds of kids. And that was only the beginning. While most church events I've been to have been careful to steer clear of politics, and especially pushing one political agenda over another, this one was quite the opposite. There we are, a room filled with very young, very impressionable children as a man got up on stage and began ranting viciously about abortion. Even at that young age, I was informed enough to realize that the man was completely lying about the process and the intention of the women who undergo these procedures. I was disgusted. A room full of children was no place to be describing a completely false account of abortion, complete with graphic details, and present it as truth. Much less so was it the place to pawn his book about the topic afterward. It became very clear to me in that instant that my place was not with this church, and I immediately wanted to go home.
The second event came much later. This had little to do with me, but I still remember how nasty I felt just for being a part of it. A girl in my church - we'll call her Jill - had become pregnant. She was probably 16 at the time, and she went to my school so it was the major topic of discussion everywhere you turned. But if there was one place where Jill should have been able to find comfort and support, it was her family and her church. She found nothing but cold shoulders in these places. Jill's family forced her to stand in front of the congregation and apologize for her sins. I should probably take the time to add that they did NOT force the guy who helped to apologize. So after this initial humiliation and traumatizing level of shame placed on this young girl who was already scared and upset, you would think it blew over and things were okay, right? Wrong. Pretty soon after that, she showed up to the high school youth class, holding her baby and sitting in the back where she wouldn't disturb anyone. The youth directors took that as their cue to talk about the horrible sin of sex before marriage, how it would ruin your life, and how you would find yourself in eternal hellfire for it. I wish I could describe to you how uncomfortable it was in that room. I saw several heads turn just to stare at Jill. I didn't look at her - partially because I didn't want to be yet another voyeur, but also because I wouldn't want anyone to see me if I was sitting there, reliving my pain without even being able to defend myself. I left the class feeling gross, and really needing to apologize to her for what had happened, somehow feeling partially responsible. I didn't apologize, but I still kind of wish I had.
If you're struggling to understand why I even bothered staying after these two incidents, join the club. And yet, there is one more story to tell. I was in 8th or 9th grade this time; I know because it was right before I joined the Methodist church. I was in the van on my way home after church, and I was talking with the youth directors and my friends. We were discussing Saturday Night Live. It was a very casual conversation - we were simply talking about some of our favorite skits. I mentioned that I really liked Tina Fey and I thought she was hilarious, and my youth director got quiet for a moment. "I just don't like Tina Fey. She's all about them gays." I didn't know what to say to that. I was kind of shocked that he would even say that so casually. So I sat back and let the conversation drop. Somehow, even though this may have been the least egregious error that the church made, this was the final straw. LGBTQ+ intolerance was something that I had worked hard to fight my whole life, and the comment came at a time when I was best friends with two gay boys and girls of various sexual orientations. Unlike other minority groups that I hadn't really been exposed to, I knew a LOT about the struggle in this community and I had first-hand accounts of feelings of depression, thoughts of suicide, and perhaps most importantly, people feeling this way on account of their churches forcing them to.
If I remember correctly, that may have been the last Wednesday I ever attended that church. Perhaps I went for a few more weeks to try and stick with my friend, but I don't have any memories of that time if I did. I very quickly switched to my grandparents' church and found a much more loving and accepting atmosphere there.
Hopefully you can see how and why my prejudice began to form. I was conflating Fundamentalism with hardcore conservatism, bigotry, anti-intellectualism, and the Southern Baptist church. And while yes, many times, these things go hand in hand, they often do not.
Enter in my boyfriend's family. They are all very strict Southern Baptists. They go to a church with a pastor who has a voice that would immediately call to mind hog hunting and pickup trucks. He's the sort of man who could wear a ten gallon hat and you wouldn't bat n eyelash. And their church is the first Fundamentalist atmosphere I've willingly entered in over five years. I won't pretend like my anxiety isn't still there: I hold my breath through half the sermon waiting to hear hateful rhetoric. I sometimes imagine all the people in the room at a Trump rally, shouting with demented joy at the idea of putting Hillary Clinton in prison. But then I look at Jeremy and I realize that my generalizations ignore the most tangible evidence I actually have. Jeremy isn't a Trump supporter. He doesn't say hateful things. And his family, though they did support Trump, care much more about being kind and loving to their neighbors than they do about politics.
As a matter of fact, his family is filled with some of the kindest people I know, least of which are his incredible parents. And while I certainly disagree with them on many ideological points, they are also the exact opposite of the hateful people I found in the other church. They are by and large moral compasses who try to do the best they can with what they have.
That's not to dismiss some of the things they have ignored in their politics and their religion. You won't see Jeremy's family protesting on behalf of Black Americans. You won't see them post statuses about welfare inequality. But you'll see that they have a spot at the dinner table for whoever walks through their door, no matter what. You'll see that their latent prejudices stem from the culture they grew up in and not from any hatred in their hearts. And honestly, they are much nicer beings than many who DO claim to stand up for these issues.
It is this family that has made me realize just how backwards and nonsensical my prejudices are. They have made me understand that within a single denomination exist a wide variety of people and ideas. Ultimately, I am a better person for listening to them instead of immediately disregarding them as racists or idiots, which is what I might have done a few years ago.
So I do sincerely apologize to the Southern Baptists, the Fundamentalists, and all the other denominations of Christianity that get a bad rep. You are not one heterogeneous group, but rather an eclectic mix of people who happened to find a community with others who really like God.
Perhaps one day I will be able to go to a Southern Baptist church without feeling uncomfortable, but until then, I hope that this public apology is a step in the right direction.
