“I’m to the point where I just don’t know,” I said. 

“Well, you can call yourself agnostic then,” I heard with little variance from a few different people. 

I didn’t know how to respond. I just knew that for some reason, that label didn’t fit right. A part of me wondered if it was just the fear of concretely shedding my last label of “LDS” and taking on something new. After all, that would make my shift in beliefs more official – more real. Perhaps that was the reason I felt uncertain about accepting the label. It had been hard enough to admit the transition to myself, and by the time I started to talk about this change, I’m not sure I’d even fully accepted the transformation. So, perhaps it was fear of really embracing my new, uncharted, and originally unwanted change. But even this conclusion felt incomplete. 

Now, I think I’ve figured it out. 

In junior high school I met someone who has remained a good friend of mine to this day. We both valued doing well in school, being good people, and being respectful. So, when I learned she was an atheist, I hardly thought anything of it. She was my friend, and that was that. The only thing learning that information did for me was open up some interesting conversations. I loved how we could talk together about our differing beliefs and never stir any hurt feelings, frustration, or the desire to convert the other. Knowing her simply helped me open my mind, be a better person, and have a lasting friendship that I still value to this day. 

One day, when I was working at Little Caesar’s, it somehow got brought up with one of my coworkers that I had this friend who was an atheist. I can’t even remember the details, only impressions of what happened and how I felt as I walked away. My coworker showed shock and negativity towards her being atheist. She was not over the top or dramatic. But the little reaction she did show created a lasting impression and made me wonder how someone could hear one thing about this amazing friend and think negatively because of it, without even taking the chance to learn more or know her. It just didn’t sit right. 

Now, to skip back to just a few months ago, my husband decided to brave sharing his belief shifts on Facebook and said that he was feeling more atheist now. First off, I want to say that those who responded did so respectfully and were often loving, kind, and understanding. No one was outright mean, unkind, or spiteful. This was a big relief to both of us. 

Not everyone could understand, but they weren’t unkind about it. As some discussions continued, I noticed something interesting. A lot of people seemed to have preconceived opinions on how my husband thought and believed now. It took a little bit of time and talking, but I think that for the most part he cleared it up with those that asked him. 

As I’ve given it more thought, I have realized that my husband spent a lot of time trying to explain himself and clear up misconceptions people had about his shift in beliefs. I couldn’t help but wonder if the label he had given himself had anything to do with that. If he hadn’t given himself a label, could he have avoided facing this? I doubt it. I just don’t think it helped. 

This led me to realize that with a label comes preconceived notions. After all, a label gives shape to concepts and allows us to pass on information quickly about ideas that can be broad and otherwise time consuming to explain over and over again. This can save time. In this way, it isn’t bad. I just realized that it isn’t for me. I don’t want someone to start talking to me, hear a label, and assume things about me. I want a blank slate. I don’t want the baggage that can come with a label.

The feeling of not wanting a label has changed for me. I didn’t start off this way. I used to proudly wear the badge of being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That label allowed me quick connection with other members and helped me feel a sense of community. I think that is another good thing that can come with a label. In that sense, I see why people do choose to have a label, and I think that is perfectly fine. It’s just been interesting to me to see that I’ve shifted. 

Granted, I think it can be harder for me to find community as easily with an agnostic label than the religious one I used to have. After all, I could go to an LDS church and quickly make friends with that label. I had grown up with it. It was taught to be part of my identity and my way of life. 

“Agnostic” or any other label is foreign to me. I only have a vague idea of what the label agnostic means. Perhaps if I dived in and really connected with the label, I’d want to wear it. But, for now, I don’t. For now, as I feel like I’ve cleared my own slate, I want others to have a blank slate for me as well. I’m afraid that preconceived notions could close doors and create incorrect assumptions. My journey has been personal, heart-wrenching, painful, and life changing. And it isn’t over yet. I don’t think a label can capture my journeys individuality, nor would I want it too. I want to be able to have open discussions with people. I feel like that’s the only way that I can learn more and continue to gain a better understanding of the world we live in. 

My goal is also to not let the labels I hear attached to others close my own mind. I hope that just like I want, I can give others a blank slate and let them fill it. That idea sounds both refreshing and good to me.