I’m Christian. According to statistics, I’m a majority.

But what isn’t “majority” is that I’m a practicing Christian. I read the Bible every night, I go to church every week, I talk to God every day.
This still may not seem out of the ordinary to most people. Most people, upon reading what I just said, would probably be confused. “What isn’t “majority” about that?” they would ask.

What isn’t “majority” about that is that I’m a seventeen year old girl living in the Bay Area in California. I was raised in an almost completely secular environment (with a few exceptions) and, up until I was sixteen, I wasn’t very strong in my faith because of that. In my case, even if I am not statistically a minority, I feel like one.

I was first truly exposed to what religion was like in another state when I went to Tulsa, Oklahoma for the first time. Tulsa is what is commonly referred to as the buckle of the Bible Belt. Many people I know would crinkle their noses in disgust at this expression and think about how awful it must be to live in a place that is so overwhelmingly religious.

I, on the other hand, find myself increasingly excited to move there for college, and I hate to admit that a great deal of that excitement comes from the fact that I will no longer feel like a minority. I will no longer have to deal with the rude words of people who may not agree with my religious views. I will not have to sink down in my seat whenever something about Christianity comes up in class and everyone makes fun of it.

Yes, what may seem like Hell to many is the one thing that keeps me going most days.

But there are some days that not even the idea of being in Tulsa in less than a year can make me feel better. There are some days where I feel so discriminated against that I want to cry because of the rude comments my classmates may intentionally or unintentionally make.

Recently, in one of my classes, we were discussing the idea of religious freedom. Most of the things that were said in class simply made me shake my head in disagreement. I wasn’t offended, but I didn’t necessarily agree with what was said. Even when a court case was brought up about a certain state in the Bible Belt making the decision that evolution should not be taught in schools, I didn’t expect what was coming.
Most of my classmates shook their heads in disgust at the idea that some idiots would believe that God created the world in six days.
I kept quiet, because, although I do not believe in creationism (Catholics are taught not to interpret the Bible literally,) I know a lot of people who do. This did not bother me. This disgust is something that I am used to. But what came next made my heart drop and my hands shake for the rest of the day.

One of my classmates decided it would be funny to joke around at the expense of Christians.

“Well, if they think that it’s okay to teach only creationism and not evolutionism, isn’t that pretty much the same thing as them deciding not to teach sexual reproduction and instead teach that babies come from storks?”

Most people I know wouldn’t come to the same conclusion as I did. In fact, when I tried to explain to my friends why I was so offended, I don’t think any of them understood.

My classmate, perhaps without knowing it, had implied that Christians are ignorant.

The class laughed as I stared up at the board, trying to control my emotions. Class ended, the day ended, but the words were etched in my mind.

To some people, my reaction may seem dramatic. And perhaps it would be dramatic if this had been the only incident along those lines. But it wasn’t. More and more frequently, my religion, my faith, and my belief are insulted.

The San Francisco Bay Area and Carlmont in particular has done a great job of tolerance. We have been taught to be tolerant of most things, but something that we have not yet mastered is religious tolerance.