Growing up, I had no choice but to engage in Christianity. From the tender age of 7 or 8, I was subjected to religious teachings, with memories of my grandparents expressing gratitude to God and praying etched in my mind. My education was at a public elementary school that shunned religious instruction, leading me to attend weekend classes known as CCD starting in 2nd grade.
Initially, I didn’t mind CCD, particularly when it came to my First Holy Communion. I was excited to wear a suit, celebrate with friends, receive gifts, and indulge in pizza. However, I was largely oblivious to the teachings themselves. I recall learning about the life of Jesus, original sin, and the notion that God was exclusively male. Being so young, I lacked the critical thinking skills to question what I was absorbing; it was simply rote memorization. Additionally, CCD emphasized obedience, teaching us to respect authority figures like priests and nuns, as the Bible instructed.
By the time I reached 5th grade, my patience had worn thin. I complained about attending CCD, longing to spend my weekends playing sports and hanging out with friends. Despite my protests, my mother insisted I continue; the drive to be good and the fear of missing out on heaven kept me attending classes, even begrudgingly honoring my mother’s wishes.
By the time of my Confirmation in 8th grade, I would have preferred any alternative to CCD. The following year, I found myself enrolled in a Catholic Jesuit High School, which meant four more years of religious instruction. Reflecting on my childhood, I realize how much of it was dominated by religious indoctrination, with no input from me on the matter. From ages 8 to 18, I was never asked if I wanted to participate in these teachings. Even when I clearly expressed my disinterest, my requests were dismissed. My mother’s only argument for my continued attendance was that it would allow me to marry in a Catholic Church when the time came.
But let’s face it—what 11-year-old thinks about marriage? Moreover, it was presumptuous of my mother to assume I would wed someone who was also Catholic and wish for a Catholic ceremony. I knew someone who, despite not being confirmed, simply donated to the church and attended a single class before marrying in a Catholic venue. In contrast, I was married by a female judge in a hotel in Washington, D.C.
The crux of my experience is that I was never given a choice, and I believe that’s unfair. While many religions exist, Catholicism was the one I was thrust into, without my consent. I refuse to impose such a situation on my children.
Indoctrination often occurs at a young age, shaping perceptions that can last a lifetime. Despite exploring other spiritual avenues, I will always view the world through a Catholic lens, as I absorbed information uncritically during my formative years. I will not replicate this experience for my kids. Instead of dictating their beliefs, I want them to explore and decide what resonates with them. Although I do not adhere to any organized religion, I have developed my own beliefs, and I want my children to have the freedom to do the same.
This is why I am raising my children in a non-religious environment—not to instill atheism, but to allow them the autonomy to navigate their own spiritual journeys.
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In summary, my decision to raise my kids without the influence of organized religion stems from a desire to grant them the freedom I lacked during my upbringing. I want them to form their own beliefs and navigate their spiritual paths without pressure or coercion.
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