To my religious parents,

I know I’m not what you expected. I’m not the Catholic girl you raised me to be. I’m an atheist. There. I said it. I don’t think that’s the worst thing I could have turned out to be by any means, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.

I know that being non-religious was a huge let down and disappointment. I remember how angry you were when I confessed that I didn’t believe in organized religion. You woke me up every Sunday morning, hoping and probably praying that this was the week I’d go with you. You gave up on me, and I’m sorry for how much that must have hurt you.

But you cannot control my faith or my belief system. You started using Catholic guilt to pressure me into being who you wanted. You’d take my siblings out to breakfast after church, and tell me that only people who believed in God got to eat with you. You’d leave me out and treat me like I was a corruptive force in your household for being who I am. I lost my religion because of an abusive relationship. I told you that if God, a heavenly father, allowed this to happen to more than one of his children, he was neglectful. If people could commit acts of hatred in his name and there were no acts of divine intervention, God supported those acts. I don’t want to believe in a god like that. You dismissed my concerns and expected me to conform.

But what you don’t understand is that you raised me better than that. You raised me to believe in myself and stand up for what I believe. You taught me to do what I thought was right, regardless of what other people think. You taught this bleeding-heart progressive to embrace and care for others. Jesus was my role model growing up, so I don’t think caring for others is as bad as it’s made out to be sometimes. I may not be Catholic, but a lot of the positive morality is still a part of who I am.

But a lot of that morality is different than what you’d want. I sympathize with gay people because they’re people who should have the same rights as other humans. I support a woman’s right to choose because it is a woman’s body and I have no control over her choices. She should have as much freedom to be a parent as a man. I support equality for everyone, and that’s what Jesus would have wanted. The church doesn’t always follow his works the way it should and by deviating, I am giving myself the freedom to love more people.

I’m sorry if that’s disappointing to you. I’m sorry that I’m not exactly what you expected me to be. But I’m proud of who I am, and I want to thank you for raising me with these morals, even if they didn’t turn out the way you planned. I’m a kind and loving person, and a reflection of the love with which I was raised. In spite of all of our disagreements, thank you for all you’ve done.

With love,

Your atheist daughter