Sofia Link
I grew up with a religious mother, and a father that obeyed my mother’s wishes.
Church was top priority,
Expect the times when my brother would have a little league game on Sunday mornings.
Us “holy” Lutherans would collect coats and hats and gloves for the homeless,
But the older women would clutch their purses and give merciless stares when an unshaven man who carried his belongings in his bag,
Would show up to service.
I sang songs about love and unity,
But was told by my Sunday School teacher,
That gay people needed to find Jesus.
I would sip on a juice box while watching a 90s VHR tape about pro-life propaganda bullshit.
The confirmation class was separated by sex for a reason.
It was so our pastor could preach to 11-year-old girls about how abstinence is our only birth-control option.
I was young and obedient at the time,
And angry at my father for falling asleep during the sermon.
Why wasn’t he afraid of eternal damnation?
The stained glass crucified Jesus I spent 15 years of my life staring at,
Was the first image that crept into my mind when a boy put his hands between my thighs.
It took public high school and partial maturation of my prefrontal cortex,
To realize that church was not the place for me.
I don’t want to take communion with people that use racial slurs on social media,
Nor would I like to follow an outdated misogynistic, and homophobic institution,
With a white savior complex.
To make this generalization about Christianity and all churches would be ignorant…
I don’t blame my mom for taking us to church,
Now I just understand why my dad would sneak us out of Sunday School to get breakfast instead.