Poetry & Blindfolds

So I heard Rebecca Watson told a scary tale
A scary, scary, scary tale
Of being with a man in a Dublin lift
Wherein there was caused not even a rift.

For there were no signs of ugly aggression
Or even unwanted sexual attention
There was an invite for chat and for coffee
And no suggestion, I understand, of schtupping or boffing.

And when she said, ‘no.’
The man did go.

Well!  So rattled Watson soon became
That while not mentioning this poor bastard’s real name
Took her case to the internet
And angry appetites she did prove to whet.

On camera she stood tall (well… she sat)
And said, ‘guys, don’t do that’
A blanket statement for half the population
To abbreviate or eliminate their perceived adulation.

This scary tale soon reached Richard Dawkins
Who is known for his writin’ and his talkin’s
He found such a proclamation absurd
And voiced as much in many more words.

Dawkins scribed a funny, fictional lettah
To a woman that he dubbed Muslima
And told her not to bemoan her plight
Or dare to complain about her lack of rights.

For women in the West have it far, far worse!
Like being in an elevator and having some verse
Spoken to one, and when one declines
Having that fellow say nothing but “fine”!

Reaction to this joke was instant and fast
As if all the people were joyous at last
To be, at Dawkins, incredibly pissed
And whom they all secretly knew was a misogynist.

People demanded apologies from this Oxfordian mutt
And Dawkins replied ‘Apologize for what?’
Which made everyone all the more mad
Mob mentality does not common sense stand!

‘You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid
Or made uncomfortable or ashamed!’
Came the response from the enraged blogosphere
Laying claim, as they did, to the concept of fear.

For me I find I must wonder about this
Although I’m a Mister and I’ve never been Miss
I’m made uncomfortable all of the time
To live in a city is to live near a crime.

So I could be shot or attacked or mercilessly mugged
By a random crazy or someone on drugs
So I really don’t know what it’s like to be scared?
Half the population thinks I’ve never been there?

And when I attempted to convey skepticism
Of this laying of claim about misogynism
I was told I have no respect for women or their strife
Holy hell, I thought, I hope no one tells my wife.

But if Watson and crew dictated behavior

And allowed only things in which we could savor

Then we’d never hear again from old Richard Dawkins

And forget the hell out of ol’ Sadie Hawkins.

 OK, just to get it out of the way.  With a title like that and me being an atheist, you probably can foresee the punch line of this piece.  However, this case is unusual for these reasons.  (1) The Christian and I are not strangers, we are real-life acquaintances, for years.  (2)  While we are diametrically opposed on the Spiritual Scale, we have enough passion in common – women’s rights, especially – that our friendship has been built on a solid respect of those things we both deem important and a mutual respect for those things we may disagree with.

Until last night.

It began when, on Facebook, I posted a video of Christopher Hitchens, the Vanity Fair editor and author, criticizing some of the tenets of Christianity.   This is a common enough thing – people post videos and links all the time about things they like and support.  Indeed, The Christian is known for posting from a ‘God Wants You To Know’ application.  That’s all well and good.  …or is it?  On came the comments.  It is important to stress that I have not edited any of the language chosen by The Christian or me in the exchange below.

The Christian: “This man is a raging narcissist. I think he doesn’t like the concept of God because he thinks HE is God. I agree evolution is not a theory, it is a working model and I am a devout Christian. If I want to read about theology, I read the Bible or Church teachings if I want to read about science I read a science book or website. He reduces religious people and theology to essentialist terms ( of his own making) and doesn’t account for the extreme variance in theologies across faiths and denominations. YAWN.”

Vincent Truman: “Predictably enough, I don’t see the narcissism so much as an objective discounting of certain theological ideas (admittedly, not theories, as they cannot be tested). I find no missteps in his presentation, which dotes, we may both agree, on a rejection of faith and/or wish fulfillment.”

The Christian: “Well, I agree he rejects faith but I don’t agree with him that faith is wish fulfillment. I repeat: He is a self-involved YAWN.”

Vincent Truman: “Now, be fair, Missy. I don’t piss in your pool with your daily ‘god wants you to know’ app, so don’t feel obliged to denigrate my corner of the philosophical market.”

The Christian: “You regularly denigrate my Christian viewpoints through your posts, that is fine you are entitled to your opinions and you have to realize on some level you do open yourself up criticism it by posting it on Facebook. I am being fair, I frankly do not mind you commenting on my faith-based posts. I don’t like Christopher Hitchens and stand by all my prior comments. He is a man after all, not a deity.”

Vincent Truman: OK, then I’ll consider myself invited to slap down your posts on your own page. I thought we were being mutual respectful, but I can suspend that, too.

The Christian: “This is a laughable waste of time. Time to prune my friend list.”

At which time I was immediatley deleted from her friends’ list. 

Another commercial for ‘love thy neighbor – unless you don’t wanna’ theology.

I generally don’t write about being an atheist, in the same way I don’t write about being left-handed.  Both are fairly engrained in who I am, so writing about them seems a little indulgent.

However, I wanted to at least address the former (the latter will have to wait for another time), as the secular voice in the world is still clearing its throat and could use any sliver of encouragement I could give to it (and those who are searching for it).

One of my final concerns – after well over a decade of dealing with other concerns – about adopting the ‘atheist’ title was: what was I going to be left with?  After I officially dismiss religion, spirituality, theology and all other god-isms, what’s in it for me?  The word on the street is, after all, that atheists believe in nothing, have no basis for good and evil and are generally untrustworthy.  Ultimately, though, any living, breathing adult is aware that things are rarely what they seem.  Columbus discovered America and everyone was happy?  No.  Pat Tillman was killed by the enemies of America?  No.  The Vatican would have had nothing to do with the Nazi Party?  Oh, yes they did.

The most beautiful benefit I have found in my atheism is that, aside from finding I still believe in things, have a good basis in right/wrong and am trustworthy, is that my philosophy makes it impossible to acquire and adopt eternal superiority.  Specifically, there is no person, alive or dead, who I would conclude will suffer for eternity because of their behavior on Earth, while my eternity is self-evidently assured to be posh and full of rainbows, wine and no weight gain.  Further, there is no entity I can draw on to reach the same conclusion. 

With atheism, I am backed into the corner of being a peer.  I cannot be more and I cannot be less. 

Jews, Christians or Muslims will neither triumph over me nor will they suffer because of my philosophy – and I like that.  I cannot be dismissive of the concerns of gays, women or minorities (even if, at my straight-white-male core, I may wish to, upon occasion) without an artificial philosophy – and I like that, too.  Atheism makes intolerance of human beings very difficult, yet makes empathy an effortless experience.

One of the reasons I did cling to Christianity once upon a time was that I simply wanted to be on the winning team.  I wanted all bad people in hell and my family and I in heaven.  The bloodlust to be a “winner” while others are deemed “losers” is a VERY male trait, often sold wholesale to women.  And it is very difficult to shake.  However, shaking it did open the door for me to make the leap of no faith whatsoever.  And what could I conclude?  Not having the ability to “win” or “lose” is a distinctly humbling honor that can be enjoyed thoroughly. 

I try my best.