Affected by an Atheist: How Hitch Changed Me
It was 2007 and I stood amongst a long line of others at the Freedom From Religion Foundation (FFRF) conference, waiting with breathless anticipation to have Christopher Hitchens sign my copy of God Is Not Great.
Before me was a man who had helped me find my own expressions of strength and doubt about religion and atheism. But as I inched closer to him with each step, by the time my turn was up, I had forgotten everything I wanted to say. He gently pulled the book from my hands, and I blurted out “I’m a big fan!” Hitch paused, and looking up at me from over the rim of his glasses, asked “Do you know the root for the word ‘fan’?” My scrambled brain kicked in gear—and I said, “Fanatic.” He replied, “Correct, I don’t want fanatics. So next time you come see me, come with a great question instead.”
Abashed, but not quite embarrassed enough to run and hide, I asked for a picture. He kindly agreed.
That was my first personal encounter with a living legend in the nontheistic community. But he was so much more. Hitch was a lightning rod for controversy because he was not a liberal—he was a conservative and supported the Iraq war. A fact that caused many attendees of the FFRF conference to protest his appearance.
What made Hitch an inspiration and a role model for me were not so much his debates with religious leaders and politicians or his particular views, but his astounding breadth of knowledge, vocabulary, and ability to use words—written and orally—to eviscerate an opponent or convey the most intimate moments of life. Hitch never backed down and he rarely had cause. He did his research; he knew what he was talking about; and he backed up everything he said with facts, prose, poetry, and personal stories.
The second and final time I had a personal encounter with Christopher Hitchens was this past October at the joint Texas Freethought and Atheist Alliance for America Convention. Hitch made a rare appearance to accept an award and spoke for several minutes. Then graciously, along with his friend (and another nontheistic leader) Richard Dawkins, took questions from the audience.
I was ready this time to ask a “great question”—I hoped. When it was my turn to ask my question, I was able to share the story of the first time I met Hitch—with him and the entire audience. It was a wonderful moment for me to share with others how he had been so gracious—and a bit stern—to a wide-eyed kid. Then I asked him about how religion and the nontheistic movement could be better to women. And Hitch was Hitch—I received a wonderful answer about how and why religion has such an effect on women to their detriment.
That evening no one wanted to leave, it seemed—especially Hitch. When the evening came to a close, Hitch met with a young girl to provide her with a list of books he recommended she should read. That was one of his greatest gifts—his generosity; encouraging people to think for themselves.
This is the Hitch I will remember: the unparalleled intelligence, effortless wit, and countless kindnesses to everyday people who drew inspiration and strength from his words and actions.
Thank you, Mr. Hitchens, thank you.
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