Picture this: you’re sitting in the dentist’s chair, a devoted Christian, making small talk with the dental assistant about the usual topics—weather, kids, and their ages. As the appointment progresses, the chatter quiets down since you’re lying back with your mouth wide open, drool pooling under your tongue while metal instruments and that little suction device take turns invading your mouth.
Suddenly, the assistant says, “You know, I identify as an atheist. I feel a spiritual connection to the universe, but the concept of a god creating everything and judging us just doesn’t resonate with me.” You want to respond, but it’s hard to do so with a dental scraper wedged between your molars. She continues, “To me, being a good person should be motivated by personal values, not fear of divine punishment. Are you flossing regularly?”
Would you consider that an appropriate conversation?
I experienced something similar recently, but I was the non-religious individual in this situation. Lying in the chair, I received a lecture about the significance of adhering to God’s Word while various dental tools invaded my mouth. I was the one in a vulnerable state, unable to speak back. It truly redefined the phrase “shoving your beliefs down my throat.”
Let me clarify: I fully support people having faith and practicing any religion that brings them joy and comfort. However, my support has a significant condition—it ceases when that belief system marginalizes or harms others based on their identity. The assistant in my dental scenario was a Jehovah’s Witness. While she didn’t invite me to her service and was generally kind, I still felt uneasy.
During our initial small talk, she asked about the pronunciation of my last name and its origin. I explained it belonged to my ex-husband, and I kept it to share a name with my children. She expressed her condolences regarding my divorce in a way that felt more genuine than usual, saying it was “a shame.” I told her thanks, but that it “needed to happen.” I nearly mentioned that my coming out as gay was the reason for the divorce, but I held back. Living in my area, I never know how my queer identity will be received. Sometimes, passing as straight feels like a protective measure, but it also makes me feel invisible.
I’m not implying this woman would have treated me poorly if I had shared my identity. Yet, lying there with her discussing her faith made me grateful I hadn’t mentioned it before. Now, I’m left with conflicting feelings. Should I have spoken out? Should I have walked out? Is it fair to judge someone based solely on their religion? Many Christians are ardent allies for the LGBTQ+ community, so not all Jehovah’s Witnesses may hold homophobic views. Perhaps we shouldn’t choose our dental hygienists based on their religious beliefs or our own sexual orientation.
What I do know is that I felt extraordinarily uncomfortable that day in the dentist’s chair. I wanted to disappear. Afterward, I did some research. Statistically, Jehovah’s Witnesses tend to disapprove of homosexuality; according to the Pew Research Center, 76% believe it should be discouraged. If this is accurate, it positions their faith as one of the most homophobic in the U.S.
While I hesitate to judge anyone based on one aspect of their identity (even though religion is significant), I cannot ignore what this institution communicates about me, my partner, and the entire queer community. The official stance of Jehovah’s Witnesses is that “The Bible leaves no room for confusion.”
Even if this woman didn’t hold strong beliefs, and even if I weren’t gay, it was still inappropriate for her to discuss her religion while performing dental work. It’s simply not right to impose one’s beliefs on anyone, anywhere. Not everyone wants to engage with religion, nor do they want to follow the same beliefs you do. It’s one thing to have an open, consensual dialogue about religion (or lack thereof) where all parties agree to participate. Too often, such conversations unfold in a manner that lacks mutual consent.
In a nation that prides itself on religious freedom, belief still wields considerable influence in politics, particularly within the GOP. That party’s official stance on same-sex marriage aims to overturn Obergefell v. Hodges, the 2015 ruling affirming the constitutional right for same-sex couples to marry—rooted entirely in Christian doctrine stating that homosexuality is a sin.
In schools, students from all backgrounds must pledge allegiance to a flag that includes the phrase “under God,” implying a connection to the Christian deity. Parents who challenge this practice often face accusations of being anti-American. But is it truly anti-American, or merely anti-religion? For some, these ideas may be synonymous.
For me, this reality translates to half of the country supporting a political party intent on stripping away my right to marry. I can’t even get my teeth cleaned without a well-meaning individual attempting to impose her beliefs on me. This occurs in a country where religious freedom is a guaranteed right. Freedom of religion means everyone can practice their beliefs, but it also includes the right to reject religion entirely. I wish more people would recognize and respect that.
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Summary
The article discusses a personal experience of feeling uncomfortable in a dental appointment where the hygienist shared her religious beliefs. The author reflects on the appropriateness of discussing religion in a professional setting, especially when it involves marginalized identities. It highlights the importance of respecting individual beliefs and the right to opt out of religious discourse.