Professional Documents
Culture Documents
10/10/2021
Eng 308
Making an Atheist is like a souffle. It is a precarious recipe that needs special care to
cultivate. Making an atheist involves minimal ingredients (less than 10) just like a souffle. It is a
delicate and complicated recipe. If you are gentle and you nurture your souffle it will come out
perfect, like a close family, like creating an atheist. That term, atheist, seems too harsh, too
opposite of Christianity but that is how my family sees me, not necessarily how I see myself.
My family, my souffle does not turn out like I envision it will. It tastes burnt and bitter;
it’s caved in and appears as unappetizing as it tastes. My family echoes this souffle. Religion
played a key role in the ruined dessert. It has led to the end of a family, a souffle in the garbage,
discarded, unwanted. I will present you the perfect recipe to bake the most delicious atheist, in
conjunction with the most disgusting souffle, whose taste at the end will out weight any guilt.
Ingredients:
Let’s introduce the ingredient and how they contributed to the making the perfect Atheist and a
ruined souffle.
I grew up with very conservative, religious Christian parents. They were kids church
pastors in a small, conservative church. Cherracon and Daniel, my stepmom and dad, tried their
hardest to raise perfect chaste Christians. We went to many bible studies. Many studies geared at
keeping us pure for our husbands, because as women, that is all we have to offer our husbands. I
remember one specific class more than the rest. In this class my stepmother, presented a sermon
to me and my fellow peers on the importance of purity and saving your virginity for your
husband, "this is the most precious gift you can give your husband". We sat in a circle on the
floor of my friend Sara-Beth's mom's house. Cherracon held up a snickers bar, instructed us to
hold and squish/squeeze the bar then when we have had our fill of playing with bar, to pass it to
the person next to us. Cherracon went into the sermon, but my attention was zoned in on the
candy bar in each girl’s hand, being passed around. It didn't matter that I wasn't paying attention,
I have heard it all before. I was seated in the middle of the circle but by the time the chocolate
bar got to me, it was a disgusting mushy mess already. I held the lumpy mass in my hands and
stared at my vagina. The faint smell of chocolate reaching my nose; the wrapper was no longer
sealed. The chocolate was warm in my hands. I passed it to the next girl and observed the
chocolaty brown spots on my hands left behind by the manhandled candy bar. Once the bar
reached Cherracon, she held it up and proclaimed how disgusting and mutilated the bar is, "This
is what happens to you when you sleep with multiple partners, who wants to eat this chocolate
bar?" she asked. Every girl made a face and rejected the lumpy mess. What I took from that
sermon was that if we had sex no one would want us like no one wanted the candy.
This church was small and lived up to the stereotypes of conservative churches not
protecting their young members. This would lead to me not trusting “the church” but I still
believed in God; I was still cooking, still hoping for a loving family, still living up to my parents
hopes.
One of the last years of my attendance at my church youth group was embroiled with
scandal. I was 16 at the time. Our youth group was run by the pastor's son and his wife, with
some designated helpers who taught sermons and chaperoned us. One of the helpers is named
Calvin. He is 27,28 when this all happens, never married, and a virgin, saving himself for
marriage. Then, there is my friend Sara-Beth, she is a year and a half older than me, slightly
pudgy, and obsessed with being a wife and mother, but she has an edge to her. She stays out late
and parties, and I would later learn that she even has sex, which at the this point in my life is
taboo. I start to notice Sara-Beth is getting skinnier and skinnier, she is newfound vegetarian and
hardly eats anything. She eventually is hospitalized with an eating disorder but returns to the
church in less than a month. Her return signalizes Calvin's leave to Africa to participate in
missionary work. It felt sudden, there had been no mention of said missionary work before he
left. One day, at a girls meeting where our virginity is compared to an over handled chocolate bar
that is now melted and mushy by the end of class, Sara confides in me that she and Calvin are
dating. She is beaming, cheeks pink and flushed with love and excitement. I was happy for her
because she was happy. Her dreams were coming true. Calvin remained in Africa until Sara
turned 18, and then he magically returned, and they were swiftly wed. They had a child in less
than a year. The church was very hush-hush about the circumstances surrounding their dating.
Eventually, my stepmom told me that Calvin was sent away because him and Sara had started
dating before she was 18 and had engaged in some sort of sexual behavior but not sex. The
church had covered up the whole inappropriate affair. The gilded romance began to fade, and I
saw her for what she was, a child, a victim. I saw the church that did not protect her, wouldn’t
protect me.
This contributed more to the ending of the relationship with my parents, and less to me
leaving my faith. However, it adds a key ingredient, it adds the bitterness to the recipe that I
ended up with. I was born to teen parents, met my dad when I was 8. I spent a couple summers
and a Christmas break with him prior to moving in with him and Cherracon at the age of 13. I
barley knew him, and he barley knew me. We tried to create this whole family. He used
Christianity to bond our family. Maybe if he had used love and understanding the end result
Daniel tried to heal himself by turning to the church and not through healing and therapy.
This led to Christian therapist who turned to God as the way to mend all things, to make us a
close family. God didn’t break the cycles, didn’t heal. I often heard “my childhood was worse; I
could be worse”. He was right he could be worse, but he could have been better. I often believed
if God was real why would he give me a father like the one I had, quick to anger, very strict,
controlling. Religion, God, never helped a thing in my family; it did however help with ruining
it.
History is my favorite subject, and when I left for college, I took many history classes
that interested me. My favorite periods to study are ancient history, and anything before the
1900’s. My studies showed me how religion changed as time changed and how religion changed
to fit the people’s need at the time. This would influence how I viewed religion. This led to me
finally acknowledging that I did not believe in God. When I informed my parent’s; they were not
happy. It led to lots of contention. An inability to talk about certain topics. I had to walk on
them into my bowl and mixed them in with all the other ingredients and I baked it. I accepted
what came out of the oven. I accepted the burnt smell and the bitter taste. Then I threw it away. I
didn’t need this burnt dessert, this sad, broken family. I let my parents see me however they
wanted to, and I just became me without them. It has been better than trying to make it right,
make it good. I am okay being the Atheist black sheep of my family; that left a sweet taste in my
mouth.
References
“In U.S., Decline of Christianity Continues at Rapid Pace.” Pew Research Center's Religion &
Public Life Project, 9 June 2020, https://www.pewforum.org/2019/10/17/in-u-s-decline-of-
christianity-continues-at-rapid-pace/.