Amy Monsky had wrestled since high school with the God she had been raised to believe. She couldn\u2019t understand how God would judge her for making her own decisions when he himself had equipped her with a brain to think and find her own way. Ultimately she concluded that she didn\u2019t believe in a God. Besides, whether she believed or not, the existence of God, she pondered, could not be known. Those two things made her both an agnostic and an atheist, labels she grew comfortable embracing.<\/p>\n
Yet, when she moved to Charleston ten years ago she was greeted by a sea of religious fervor and a resulting sense of alienation. Surrounded, at her young children\u2019s school where she volunteered, by mothers who spoke constantly about the church they attended and whose communities were church-driven, Monsky felt lonely.<\/p>\n
\u201cI had no one to share my views with. I hemmed and hawed, but I never outed myself,\u201d\u009d Monsky said, borrowing from gay civil rights terminology. \u201cIt felt very oppressive. Not only did everyone go to church, but they believed that belief in God was necessary to be a good person. … I got lonelier and lonelier.\u201d\u009d<\/p>\n