Atheists Anon

Hi, everyone. My name is Paul. I’m 34. I’m a construction worker and a part-time pilot. I have three kids and an ex-wife who lives in Minnesota. And I’m an atheist.

Hi, Paul.

There were only twelve people in the room (their names were altered for purposes of anonymity). There was Rita, the social worker; Kevin, the actor and barber; Will, the veterinarian; Mandy, Hansen, Kyle, Jules, Michael, Owen, Esther, and me.

They meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the back of Will’s veterinary shop, in a bad part of the neighborhood, so it’s unlikely anyone pays attention to their comings and goings. If someone does come in, they have plenty of cash and playing cards out on the table. Even their wives, husbands, children, and pets don’t know where they go for these four hours a week.

Welcome to Atheists Anonymous, a rehabilitation and awareness group for those who have lost touch with G-d. I know it’s hard to believe, but Kyle himself, the founder of the group, told me how it all started.

My sister died of cancer two years ago. I took it particularly hard, I guess. My family just kept telling me that G-d had His ways and stuff, but it didn’t sound right to me anymore. It sounded—well, frankly, like bullshit. So I started skipping church, telling them I had stomachaches and stuff. Then, one day, I stopped going entirely. I stopped saying “thanks,” too. I just didn’t want to be thanking the person or power or whatever that took my sister away. After a few months of that, I realized I was becoming an atheist. It took me a long time after that to find out I wasn’t the only one.

What makes these deviant and deranged few so different from the rest of us? What do we see that they don’t, or—even more worrisome—what might they see that we don’t?

Rita is 64 years old, with two children and five grandchildren, and hopes to live long enough to walk her great-great-grandchild down the aisle. She has a soft smile, and she’ll scratch your back as she walks by.

But beneath it all, she, too, is a deviant. In fact, unlike most of this group, she’s been a deviant her whole life.

Hi, my name is Rita. My age is none of your business. I am a grandmother. I am your mother. And I am an atheist.

Hi, Rita.

When she was born, Rita had a strange sense of rebellion. Her parents tried to take her to school, to teach her manners, to tell her about the word of G-d. None of it worked.

I just didn’t like it. Didn’t like people telling me what to do or how to do it. It felt wrong. Nobody is the boss of me, and I am the boss of nobody.

It’s particularly hard for her, as her children do not share her beliefs.

I raised them to believe whatever they wanted. They chose the man upstairs. I don’t know why. We had many arguments. They won. They say G-d is on their side. No—they won because you can’t fight an invisible force. You can’t argue against belief.

Rita only joined the group a year ago but has been an outspoken anti-worshiper for most of her life, even landing her in jail a few times in her 20s and 30s. Will had a similar experience, having been around for the religious revolution just a half-century ago.

Yeah, people back then didn’t like it too much. I would stand on the street with a microphone, holding a sign, and tell them that there was no G-d and they were responsible for their own actions. They would run away so fast.

With recent legislation in Congress pushing for stricter enforcement against atheists, it’s no wonder this group feels so strongly about their privacy. Michael tells the group a story about when he came out as an atheist to his long-term girlfriend…

We were in bed. She was saying all this stuff about waiting until marriage and chastity and Jesus watching us, and I told her that I thought that stuff was a bunch of horses**t, y’know? I told her if she didn’t want to do it with me, that was fine, but it wasn’t because Jesus was sneaking a peek at us or anything. Well, yeah, she threw a fit and told me she could never be with someone who thinks like that and talks like that. Now she’s with this priest, of course. They’re married, so I bet they’re doing it all the time.

Another, Esther, had a much more harrowing story to share…

This was only a few months ago. I was on the bus, and this guy was hitting on me. I kept smiling and turning him down, but he wouldn’t have it. We got off at the same stop, and he started following me. It was really creepy, catcalling me and stuff. At one point, I turned back and told him to “Get the f**k away from me,” and he just got really silent. He told me that was really awful language to use and that he hoped G-d would smite me down for it. I think he ran away crying.

The group is able to air their grievances, share their stories, and connect with like-minded people in ways that they just can’t in everyday life. And, after attending meetings for nearly two months, I began finding myself evaluating my own beliefs, wondering if there was any seed of doubt. One night, I talked with Kyle about it…

You never know for sure. Sometimes, you get that weird feeling in the air, or you can’t sleep, and you think maybe it’s something. Something else, right? But you’ve gotta look at the reality. That weird feeling could be low blood sugar. You can’t sleep because you’re stressed or your phone keeps going off. Strange things happen all the time. It’s up to you how you interpret them. What you do with them.

When I first started writing this story, I pitched it as an exposé on this group of outsiders, bringing to light the underbelly of the morally bankrupt. Now, however, I consider these people to be my friends, and I challenge you to do the same.

As my final meeting wrapped up, Paul pulled me aside…

You know, my only goal is that one day we have our own building, not just a room. Where people can come and talk and just sit in silence together. Knowing that there’s nothing out there at all. No one to save us.