Hey Secular FAM! The world is moving at lightning speed, so today I’m leaning into that vibe.
I celebrated my fourth anniversary with Secular AZ at the end of last year, and I swear, this spring has been the busiest on record. This year, Secular AZ has been at dozens of in-person street fairs, festivals, and home tours, tracked hundreds of bills, spoken at countless events, and collaborated with stakeholder groups in Arizona and nationally. We also do our best to track the most problematic governing bodies in the state, like the PUSD governing board and the Mohave County Board of Supervisors.
And it’s only April!
In the coming months, Secular AZ will have a presence at Pride events throughout the state, as well as other events where you’d expect to see us, but we’re also branching out. Last year, I read that TPUSA had a booth at the Arizona State Fair, because of course they do, so I think it’s time we open our horizons.
That’s the jam, Secular FAM! The Christofascist movement in our country has been moving for decades in spaces where they can shape and form young minds and mogging young, white men into fascistmaxxing ideologies (am I doing this right?).
One of the events I attended in April happened at the Humanist Society of Greater Phoenix (HSGP), where the American Humanist Association (AHA) President, Fish Stark, spoke.
He has quite the resume, and at 30-years-old, he’s accomplished a lot. In his short time with AHA, he’s increased staffing, formed a legal committee, and increased membership. By a LOT. He’s also focused on building partnerships with other national civil rights organizations, and implemented a few grant projects, one of which is the American Empathy Project.
Over the last few years, empathy has been under attack. I’ve written about it in the past, but as Stark said, “billionaires, bigots, and bishops” are now demonizing empathy. Basically, by getting all of us to distrust one another instead of the powerful, the pitiful, and the pedo-full, we’re easier to control.
Christian nationalists disdain empathy because it causes people to abandon God for their neighbors, and is there any better example of why they would want us to think that than what we saw transpire this winter in Minnesota? The way folks in the Twin Cities banded together to help their neighbors is awe-inspiring and a pretty damn good example of the idea of humanism.
I’ve gone through phases in my belief/non-belief journey. For many years, I felt like there was something wrong with me for not feeling the Holy Spirit or whatever those people who weep and writhe in church are feeling. I dabbled in religious services, but the times I felt most connected to a power greater than myself was when I worked together with other humans to make my corner of the world a better place.
Now, and especially after the 2024 election, I consider myself a Humanist. I used to qualify it by saying “atheist-humanist” but now, “humanist” is enough. Straight from the Oxford Dictionary:
“Humanist beliefs stress the potential value and goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek solely rational ways of solving human problems.”
Last week, I buried another friend who passed away from cancer. James was one of the most magical people I’ve ever met. Have you ever met someone who just has a presence that draws people to them like moths to a flame? That was James. I don’t know if he considered himself a Humanist, but he definitely lived his life like one.
He was always a bit of a nomad. Like many other queer kids growing up in America in the 1970s, his nomadic lifestyle wasn't necessarily his choice. It’s always been tough to be a queer kid in America, but it was especially hard back then, but James always made the most of things. Whenever obstacles were in his way, he would rely on the goodness of others, and as he would always say, “the universe provides.”
I would argue that the universe always provided for James when he needed it the most because he always assembled the best humans to surround himself with and treated them with love and kindness.
During his last few years, he lived with a friend in a small town outside of Tulsa, and during his celebration of life, she said that she’s lived there for years, and knew almost no one. In the couple of years that James lived there, he got to know EVERYONE. From the mail carrier to the neighborhood landscapers, to the McDonalds staff, he took the time to actually get to know people. In a country that is often cruel and unforgiving for people like James, he always managed to thrive. He understood this and he helped others thrive as well.
For the 20 years I knew him, he always had a volunteer gig, even though he may have been couch-surfing or struggling to pay his own bills. He volunteered with HIV/AIDS organizations and worked with children in the foster care system. Whether he could barely scrape two nickels together, or not, James understood the importance of acts of service.
I learned so much from you, James.
I’m not sure how much he was aware of national events in his final months, but I know that James had friends in Minnesota whom he loved deeply, and if he had been able, I would just about guarantee he would have gone back to help.
The greatest lesson that James left me and many other people with in his short time here is that, if anything, we need MORE empathy, not less.
Lately, I’ve been paying attention to the rural spaces in Arizona, and I’m noticing a shift. While the elected leadership in these areas still identify (mostly) as MAGA, their constituents seem to be getting louder in their opposition to MAGA policies happening at every level.
That’s why, in the coming months, Secular AZ will be showing up throughout the state to let folks know that they’re not alone in their belief that our neighbors are not our enemies. Despite attempts by the Epstein class to have us believe otherwise, rational people understand that empathy makes the world a better place.
A friend of James told a story about when they worked in an office together and there was a sales rep that everyone avoided and thought was kind of a dick. Through a series of events, they ended up roommates - the three of them. A Latina woman, a queer guy, and a conservative frat boy that was brash and offputting.
Rather than gossip or allow for any toxicity to creep into their household, James declared, “Get ready! We’re going out for drinks!” They shared a few rounds, and James zeroed in on his new roommate, and said, “Look. You’re kind of a dick. You’re full of yourself, you interrupt people, and you don’t listen. It’s why people at the office avoid you, but I’m going to help you. I see the good in you. On Monday, I want you to go to everyone in the entire office. I want you to bring a notebook so you can take notes if you need to. But you are going to go to every single individual and ask them a question about themselves and you are going to listen to their answers without interrupting and you will REMEMBER them or I will never speak to you again.”
That last part may seem harsh, but James also did not suffer fools, and would not let toxic douchebags mess with his Chi.
The friend said the new roommate did just that, and after that, everyone there benefitted from that very frank, but empathetic advice that James delivered. She said they went on to live together for several years and forge a lovely friendship, even when their workplaces and addresses changed.
I don’t want to live in a world where we prioritize the wellbeing of an omnipotent, omnipresent, authoritarian, abusive deity. If fear of perishing in the fiery depths of hell or pissing off your narcissistic god is keeping you from caring about your neighbors, maybe you’re worshipping the wrong gods.
I don’t know if James feared death, but I know that the prospect of hell or heaven didn’t jive with his belief system. Another friend told me that the last book he was reading was You Better Be Lightning by Andrea Gibson and the minute I heard that, I said “of course he was,” because for so many of us who were lucky enough to know him, that’s exactly what he was. And Andrea Gibson shared his passion for elevating others and used her platform for the Common Good.
At the end of James’s celebration of life, someone read a poem by Andrea Gibson, titled Love Letter From The Afterlife, where she says that “dying is the opposite of leaving.” She assures those left behind that their loved ones are more present with them now than they ever were before, and holyfuck does that sound so much more lovely than worrying about heaven and hell.
They want people to worry about heaven and hell and they want them to put their god above all else, rather than just being fucking decent humans to their neighbors no matter where they come from. It’s quite the con job to demonize empathy when it’s kind of the whole THING about the guy you say you worship.
But then again, we know who they really worship.
Take James’s lessons, Secular FAM, and spread love wherever you go. See the good in others. Get to know your neighbors, your service workers, your kids’ teachers. L
To quote Andrea Gibson: “You better be lightning.”
