I grew up in a white Christian community with a family that were not passionate Christians. My mother would occasionally decide that yes, this week we’ll be going to church. Every Sunday. For real. She’d pick a church that looked interesting (as long as it wasn’t Catholic) and we’d attend for a few weeks until she worked on a Sunday or was too tired, and the ideal would fall apart. I had the building blocks. I had the cultural osmosis. But I did not have the real experience.
I have a degree in religious studies (sort of) which has led me into a very atypical relationship with it. I love religion, the same way that someone loves science fiction movies. Every day I am a happily non-denominational agnostic, educating people on comparative religious views and why we should say “happy holidays” instead of “merry christmas”. A former roommate has politely asked me on at least one occasion to stop talking about religion. It wasn’t until much later that I understood why. From top to bottom, We Know The Devil made me think of her.
