Generation Next: Losing My Religion

Kat and I had just left the campus of Columbia University, were trudging along Broadway, on the familiar hill that elevates the campus, when she posed a most peculiar question.

"Do you believe in God?" she asked.

Lampposts lit the streets as we continued along, under dimmed moon intent on warming ourselves with chatter.

"Of course I believe in God," I replied. Wondering where she was going with this. "Do you?" I asked.

At this point I anticipated some abstract dialogue: one of those, "what's our purpose?" conversations so common among young people who feel as though they're truly analyzing the world for the first time. Instead, Kat replied with a simple, breezy, "of course not."

I was shocked. She replied with such inherent ease that it seemed downright audacious. Never before had I spoken to someone who disregarded the idea of God like this. Out of anger, spite, or confusion -- perhaps -- but never out of candid belief.

"Are you serious?" I replied, probably sounding a bit naïve, if not stupefied.

Don't get me wrong. I've never thought of myself as an overly religious person. I am an agnostic, self-proclaimed Sarcasm Queen who takes pride in her cynicism. And, while I'd like to think I approach everything from a logical perspective, I found Kat's blatant declaration to be a bit much for even my reality.

Kat's family moved to the U.S. four years ago, so it wasn't a complete surprise to hear that she believes that her atheism is linked to her cultural background. Like many other Russian families, Kat explained that her parents and grandparents had grown up under Communist government that enforced a system of mandatory atheism. Even in recent years, when religious freedom was reintroduced to their country, many Russian families paid no mind to the change.

Kat is the child of one of these die-hard atheist families. She's been part of American culture for at least four years now, and still believes God is a myth.

"So when you die ? ?" I asked. She shrugged. "Fertilizer."

Not Alone

The days after this encounter left me wondering about a world without a God, without some sense of higher power, and therefore without the immediate safety net that comes along with feeling cared for by a force much greater than oneself.

At the time, I couldn't see it. Not only did Kat's response seem very odd to me, but when I started mentioning it other people, saying things like, "Can you believe what someone told me the other day?" the truly bizarre thing was that she was not alone. Teen after teen after teen shrugged their shoulders and looked at me as if I were the oddball. I started to feel as if I was the last kid on earth who still believed in The Tooth Fairy.

In the months since then I've had a number of conversations with friends and acquaintances around my age, a.k.a. the Generation Y crowd. It has became increasingly clear to me that throughout New York City, and possibly in communities much more far reaching, youth have a rising apprehension about organized religion and spirituality.

		Religion is a sneaky little bugger. Unless you've been hiding under a hefty rock, it's likely to have crept into your life at some point and contributed to your belief system.

Granted, for those of us living in New York, especially those who may have lost friends and family member on September 11th, there's an obvious connection. Of course there is other violence to contend with. Even if they don't live in an urban area, hearing about snipers and school shootings in the news makes a number of today's youths feel like they have no one count on but themselves.

"You damn right I came into this world on my own!" blasted Tariq, when I asked if he believes his life came about without a God.

"I don't see nobody else here, do you?" he asked, stepping back with a golden basketball nestled under his arm. Tariq is a 17-year-old high school senior at Thurgood Marshall Academy in Harlem, NY.