Grow up

As I walked the garbage bin to the curb at dusk, the weather was ideal. The boys had just gone to bed. “Do you want to go for a walk?” I asked Roseli. So we did.

Walking hand in hand, Roseli began to tell me the drama that had unfolded at church today. She had heard earlier in the week that a family was moving, and when she ran into the woman in the hallway, Roseli attempted to ask her about the move. Now I wasn’t there, but as Roseli tells it, the woman raised an open palm as if to say, “Talk to the hand,” and said, “I don’t even want to talk to you.”

Roseli couldn’t imagine what her issue was. Later, Roseli saw the woman again and said, “Can we talk?”

She reluctantly agreed and they went into an empty room where this woman spewed forth about 30 minutes worth of angry, nasty, and vile comments about me and what I’ve posted on this blog.

Now I actually like this woman. She’s warm, personable, sweet, and seems like a great mom—at least that’s been my impression of her. I had no idea she despised me so. And she listed a half dozen other women who have decided to distance themselves from us as well.

What is this, high school?

Neither Roseli nor I are upset that some have chosen to distance themselves from us. But I feel bad that my sweet wife has to endure social consequences simply because I no longer share the same cosmic and theological opinions that these women do, and worse yet, that I have the audacity to make my thoughts known. (Heaven forbid!) I find it genuinely puzzling that a mere difference of opinion about the nature of reality can generate such venom.

I suspect that some mistake my criticism of certain beliefs for criticism of them personally. I reject supernaturalism in all its forms, but expressing my disbelief in the supernatural is not the same as calling believers morons.

There are a couple women who have continued to be authentically warm to us, and another couple women who have talked with me directly, for which my respect and esteem for them has only grown. Notably, we’ve had no issues whatsoever with the men in the ward.

So why do I share this story? It’s not to stir the pot (although that can be fun), and it’s certainly not to embarrass this woman—like I said, she seems to be a genuinely nice person who may just be irrationally frightened by (gasp) an atheist who dares open his mouth (or keep a blog, as the case may be). No—I share this story for three reasons.

The first is to illustrate that there can be a real social cost, not only to oneself, but to one’s family, to coming out—as a skeptic, a naturalist, a freethinker, an atheist, or what have you. It’s the same kind of vitriolic response that women fighting for suffrage endured, or that dark skinned people daring to voice the injustice of their oppression endured, or that queers endure even today for simply stating that they exist… Come to think of it, it’s the same kind of ostracism that early Mormons endured!

The second is to invite these women to grow a backbone and tell me your concerns yourself. I’m open. I’m nice. I’m polite. I’m not going to eat your children. Call. Email. Visit—I’ll welcome you warmly, I’ll listen to you, and I’ll probably offer you chocolate.

The third reason for this post is to encourage these same women to rethink the value of ostracizing my wife for anything I’ve written. That makes no sense. Maybe you’re dying to ask her how she can possibly stand living with (shudder) an atheist but you feel uncomfortable asking, but she’s open as well. And if you decide to avoid her because you don’t agree with me, frankly, you’re being unreasonable.