That was the very first bumper sticker I ever put on my car… let’s say, almost two decades ago. Out of all the packers, rainbows, wigs, and glitter in that little LGBTQ shop, that was the item I ultimately came away with. It said everything I needed to say: I don’t have a problem with the whole god concept… I have a problem with the people that do horrible things in the name of their god. You don’t need to go far into the recent news cycles– and take note of the context of where I bought said bumper sticker– to see exactly what I mean.

When I slapped that thing on, I was a bit naive (or a bit dim): I didn’t think about any confrontation I may have had to endure. In the Bible Belt. And twice I was walked up to and asked to explain what I meant by that bumper sticker. Fortunately, everyone involved remained civil (the other party didn’t escalate and I kept my composure). I was also fortunate that they seemed satisfied with my response and didn’t get belligerent or even violent– doubly so when it was white folks stepping up to me, a Black stranger.

What was my answer? I simply had to Not All Religious People out those conversations. I specified “only the bad ones, and I assume you’re not one of them since we’re having a rational discussion in a parking lot instead of giving me an asphalt sandwich.”

I did have one more incident, and I promise it’s a funny one: I was dropping someone off and we were stopped at a red light. A car comes up behind me, and in the rearview mirror I see the driver absolutely losing his shit. It was after I stopped panicking that I realized that he was laughing, clapping, and pointing to the back of my car before giving me a thumbs up: turns out, that bumper sticker made his day.

I thought of that guy in my commute to work today, and I hope he’s living his best life.

I also thought of that bumper sticker… and how I’d probably get assaulted over it nowadays. Sigh.