The Hero Who Made Me Cringe

Christian schools taught me how to cringe. There, I learned that non-Christians were cringe-worthy. I even learned that other factions of Christianity different from my own were cringe-worthy. Since I was on the Protestant side of the fence, even Catholics made me cringe. These were my villains. It is a difficult device to describe in words other than to say it was the weapon of choice for indoctrinating young minds at the schools that I attended. We were taught to feel sorry for people different from us in a kind of condescending way. I am sad to say, but I can liken it to the same kind of brainwashing that Hitler employed on Germany’s youths, to maintain solidarity for the future by cultivating the single commonality of disdain for Jews.

I have always been an independent person, so it was only natural that I eventually began to question this system of education. I began to question the authenticity of my own personal beliefs. Were they really of my own invention, or were they simply the traditional tenets of the brand of religion to which I subscribed? I decided that it would certainly be easier to simply accept the path that had been prescribed for me by others, but that was not an option for me. I had spent my entire life under the tutelage of only one worldview, and now I intended to break the mold of single-mindedness. How was I ever going to start? This story begins when I realized that what I considered to be my beliefs were not mine at all. The real turning point, however, began when I met my hero Christina, who at first made me cringe.

Realizing that most of my beliefs were essentially plagiarized from the crafters of Christianity, I made a momentous decision. I began to think for myself. I have always been an independent person, and there are not many calculated risks from which I have shied away. So, I blazed a new trail, a meaningful and first-person one. I, unlike most of my high school classmates, opted first for a handful of real world experiences rather than the more popular and immediate alternative of a college education. I knew that what I thought I believed during this transitional time of personal reflection was in question, so I did not want to compound the problem by burying a lifetime’s worth of religious education underneath a liberal arts one. I remember a saying that my teachers would repeat almost weekly: “If you stand for nothing you’ll fall for anything.” Before I invested time and resources into the education that would presumably have the most impact on my life’s direction, I wanted to know that I stood for something. Instead of college, I began a career. Rubbing elbows with individuals that were decades older than me, I learned the practical side of life first-hand, lessons that usually come full circle only after college for most people. This nontraditional path is largely responsible for my confidence as an individual, but it is also responsible in part for me eventually meeting my hero.

Her name was Christina, and she was Catholic, a cringe worthy person if ever I saw one. She was smart and opinionated. Even worse, she claimed to also be Christian. The reality of the situation is that the Protestant circles responsible for my education sort of hijacked the entire Christian faith, and in the minds of their students, cast all other brands of Christianity aside. Therefore, when I encountered this Catholic claiming to also be a Christian, my immediate response was to cringe. Luckily, this seemingly innate response was just the lingering remnants of my former faith. I had begun to question its legitimacy long ago, so I welcomed the different perspective Christina brought me. To borrow an idea from Walt Whitman, Christina was an individual with admirable qualities, and my admiration for these was enough to topple the factional fence between us. From her, I learned to love differences of opinion, and with that, a new appetite for learning was conceived within me. Finally, after years of hiatus, I decided to return to school to find the missing pieces of my life’s puzzle. My unlikely hero, who at first made me cringe, taught me to love diversity. Now I call her Christy, but officially, I call her my wife.

Here we are two individuals from different sides of the fence. Sometimes still, we have differences of opinion, and I revel in those occasions that we do. Today we are excited for what life has already taught us, but tomorrow, we want more, she at her craft and I at the University of [deleted].