We Who Are Not As Others

I am not a Christian, nor have I ever been a member of the Christian faith. This is a space to occupy as a Black woman that may be rivaled in discomfort to admitting that you are a Republican or a witch.



I was not raised in a household that subscribed to any institutionalized religion. My mother, with whom I resided, was grappling with her indecision about religion and practiced Buddhism when I was quite young. My father decried Christianity for it's role in enslaving our ancestors and observes some traditional Yoruba spiritual practices. In later years, he has attacked all major organized religions for the role they assign to women. (Yup, I got a gun-toting, weight-lifting, bass-fishing feminist father. Get like him.)

My household was hardly Godless. We have always been a family that dealt with spirituality very openly. I was allowed to explore religion as I saw fit and did a brief stint in a friend's Baptist church when I was about 10. I was curious about this Sunday ritual that most of my friends had and I felt left out. I liked Easter hats and the Sunday dinners. Lacking any real child-appropriate instruction about the Bible, I ended up being a bit bored and confused by the whole thing.I was over it all in a few weeks.

In middle school and high school, I explored Islam. While I admired the role of the Black church in the Civil Rights Movement, I was always more of a Malcolm girl than a Martin one. I wanted to be with the radicals! Plus, most of the rappers I listened to were Muslim or were at the time they recorded the music I held nearest to me: Kweli, Mos, Q-Tip, Brand Nubian, etc. I felt I would be a good Muslim wife for a strong, conscious Black man.


I was all in for "What's the science, Earth?" and "Peace, queen!" The patriarchy, not so much.

I had my dad buy me a Qu'ran for Kwanzaa. I quoted the Honorable Minister Elijah Muhammad's book "The Supreme Wisdom" in essays, partially as an intimidation tactic against my teachers who were trying to brainwash me with their Eurocentric education. For a brief spell, I wrapped my hair up, hopped on the #6 Jeffery bus and went to Mosque Mariam on Sundays. Actually, I thought I had accidentally joined the Nation Of Islam one week. The Hon. Minister Farrakhan asked those who wanted to accept Allah in to their hearts to come forward. I was riled up and excited by his political message that day, plus a bit star-struck; so down the aisle I went. Then, we went downstairs and I signed something. Fast forward to me calling the Mosque from school on Monday and asking if I had joined the NOI. It was explained to me that I was a member by birth and had not obligated myself to anything additional with my signature.

My interest in Islam lasted a bit longer than my exploration of Christianity (and my super brief peek at Buddhism); however, I again decided to walk away from religion. I felt that my head and my artistic/political interests were guiding me to something that wasn't in my heart. My feminist ideals had already taken shape and while I realize that there are women like me in all organized religions, I just wasn't down for any of them at that point. I felt, and still feel, that if organized religion is for me, God will make it abundantly clear.

Life in Negronia as a non-Christian is no crystal stair. There have been times I wished I was a Muslim so I could at least have something more 'respectable' to defend my reasons for not being a Christ follower. Trying to explain to people that I believe in God, but not religion is an often daunting task. Black folks tend to assume that everyone else is a Christian. At Howard, not only were there opening prayers at official university events, their were prayers that ended with "in Jesus' name we pray"! The first time I heard that, I looked around expecting to see other shocked reactions. Everyone else just said "Amen." I just knew that the speaker had forgotten that he wasn't at church or at home or in the company of people who had ALL accepted Christianity. How could they do this at a school? What about the Muslim kids? The kids who didn't believe in God? What about me? I felt like an outcast.

I have had to stop people mid-argument and tell them that while I respected the fact that their opinions were informed by the Bible, that mine were not. Thus, you can't argue me with Scripture because we aren't on the same page. This has been impossible for some folks to consider, especially when it comes to matters of church and state. I've also had people say in my presence "I'm sorry, but I just don't trust anyone who doesn't accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior", without even remotely considering the possibility that I wasn't Christian.

I do worry about the impact my religious choice may have on my dating life, especially as I get closer to you-know-what age. I'd be okay with committing to someone who had different beliefs, but I wouldn't convert for anyone. I don't think God would want me to join a religion to make another human being happy. God knows when I'm lying. I just hope my future super boo doesn't have a hyper-religious family that won't accept me into their fold. I have a lot working against me romantically: I'm a non-Christian feminist with a deep opposition to the smell of pork. I may be Negronia's least eligible batchelorette.

I have friends who are Christian who are loving and tolerant of my dissenting religious beliefs; I also have others with whom we do best to just not speak about religion, which is fine with me. I am in no way, shape, or form implying that all Black Christians are intolerant or prejudiced. However, there is certainly a level of marginalization and ostracizing that I find to be unfortunate. Furthermore, I find some of the widely held practices and beliefs of the Black church to be embarrassing and in total opposition to what I stand for. It's hard to separate myself in total from a group that has by and large done so many positive things for our folks, but there are just times in which I don't want that group even attempting to speak for my needs.

I feel good about my connection to the Almighty, the spirits, the ancestral council. My relationship with the Creator doesn't need a mediator. And I feel good when I see people who have done beautiful things for themselves and others with organized religion. I realize that the teachings of the Bible and their varied interpretations prevent me from seeing eye-to-eye with people on a number of subjects, and that's fine. I just wish to challenge the institutionalized religious normativity (God, how many times a week do I say that word?) within the Black community. Non-Black Christians are not Jesus-hating devil worshippers. We aren't doing the devil's work. We all trying to get to the same place for the most part and we needn't make anyone feel uncomfortable along the way.