They Call Me Evil

Son, say what you mean, don't be afraid
Tell them how you feel, hear what I say
Be true to yourself and true to your own
Your spirit will crush the hearts of stone - Stand Alone, by Iced Earth

In this post I'd like to talk about my experiences with my old buddy, Christianity

I spent most of my gradeschool years in a private Christian school run by very devout Christians. As I've said before, I question things, and I questioned their faith. I pondered, and brought up a lot of 'What if?' questions. I remember once asking my teacher "What if when you die, instead of heaven, you get to fly around and pick any animal in the world, and live a lifetime as it, then get to pick again on your next death?". The look on her face suggested that I had taken a crucifix and stabbed Seamus, the slow kid, in the forehead with it. I was immediately sent to a small room in the back of the school to write some bible verse 500 times.

I spent a lot of time in that room. I was singled out and used as an example to the other kids of what happens when you think for yourself. You get punished. I almost never never got recess, and when I did I'd have a teacher watching me constantly, and if I did the slightest thing wrong (such as look at a girl), it would be back to the room with me. Either that or I'd sit at the front of the class, facing the other students, with my hands on my head for an extended period of time, if I put my hands down, it would be another 10 minutes. They used to have after school day care there for kids who's parents couldn't come until after school went out. So I'd be in that room, with my only hint that school was out was the sound of happy kids seeing their parents, still doing my schoolwork as the hours went by. They hated the fact that I was one of their best students.

I remember on one of the few recesses I was able to have, I had to go poo. I had to get the teacher's permission before I could go. Oh, and I had to say restroom, not potty..... That was another 500 sentences in the back room. Anyway, I go to the teacher and ask "Can I please go to the bathroom?". She acted like I wasn't there, I asked a couple more times, but I was still invisible. Another student came up and asked for something, and the teacher smiled and gave her permission to go about her business. By this time I had to go BAD, I was on the verge of panic. I pleaded desperately with her to let me go to the bathroom, and she finally gave me permission. It was to late, on the way to the bathroom I couldn't hold any longer and defecated myself.

Was all this really because I didn't swallow everything she had to say with a smile? Could people really try and break someone like this? They had tried, but I kept being myself, and was happy most of the time, and I still remain their failure.

My parents had no idea of the happenings at that school. I never told them. I'm not sure why I kept it from them, as they'd surely take me out of the school right away. They did eventually pull me out, though, after I started coming home crying every day.

Not all my experiences with Christianity have been bad, though. In my early teens I went on a trip with a group of other home school students and a few teachers. It remains to be one of me fondest memories in life. The trip was 3 weeks long, and we went through Nevada, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and California. We made a camp at Arches National Park, and went hiking to see all the sights. We camped in Chaco Canyon and explored the ruins there. We hiked into Canyon De Chelly and planted apple trees for the natives there. We lived in a Navajo village for a week and became part of the community. It was wonderful, and all the people I went with were awesome. They were Christians, they worked with the church and all that, but they treated me just like everyone else. They didn't look down on me for not being religious. I never got in trouble for anything I didn't deserve (although they did mention my fascination with the girls on the trip :P). I even got a little medal honoring my bravery, for not giving up on those grueling hikes, even though my arthritis was beating me down. They let me be myself, and I loved them for that.

Why can't everyone else see what they saw? They didn't see the beliefs, the lifestyles, or what clothes we wore. They saw the people inside. They didn't try and change everyone. Why can't we all be like that? If I wanted to be a Christian I'd go to a church and seek a priest. Stop knocking on my godamn door.

I know I sound self righteous, badmouthing religion and other people for not accepting that people are diverse, and trying to change them into what they think is right. I am not innocent, though. There was a time a few years ago that I wished that all Christians could be wiped from the face of the earth. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? I eventually realized what I sounded like, and I realized I was acting just like those who spurred my hatred. In trying not to be them, I became them. I was bitter, very bitter. Christianity had ruined any liking for school I had, it had changed my brother into a shitty person, and it had changed my first (only) love, becoming a main factor for our split (that and her falling for a pastor, which didn't help the bitterness).
I don't feel that way anymore. While I don't agree with, or like religion much, I'll never think of taking away someone's right to believe what they want. I have accepted the changes it has made in my life. I am grateful to that Christian school for helping to mold me into who I am, for it had inadvertently turned me into an open minded, strong person who strives to be as good as he can, both to others and to myself.

I still have an evil stigma with some people, though. With my known disagreement with religion, and my fascination with the dark side of religion (Hell, demons and the like, I heard I was going to Hell so much, I guess I wanted to know what it was like), I guess can understand why. But if you really took the time to know me, you'd find out that evil couldn't be any further from the truth.