One warm day, I was walking to the bus stop with my uncle. My uncle is a short man with a small mustache and a big smile. He’s a nice man and is always cracking a funny joke. My uncle and I were walking and talking when a group of men wearing expensive clothes walked up to us and asked us if we had time to talk about God. My uncle (being an atheist) and I told them that we don’t believe in such a thing. The man who seemed to be leading the group—a tall white man wearing a fancy black suit—started to tell us that we were unknowing fools to not believe in the Lord. “He is our Father and Savior,” the man said in a gruff voice.
My uncle and the man argued for a while about it. Then my uncle said, “Hey man, there is a kid here.”
The man, gesturing to me, stated, “And you are fooling the child into believing your ways.”
My uncle was mad now and obviously wanted to get out of there. “Alright man, believe what you want. I never said that you couldn’t,” my uncle almost yelled. Then we walked to the bus stop. We don’t talk about it that much because it was kind of scary for five-year-old me but I still remember bits and pieces of it. That day I learned that while my family accepted all people, not all people accepted them.