Navigating Secular Spaces as a Puerto Rican, Black Atheist: Why Representation Matters

As a Puerto Rican, Black, and atheist student, navigating secular spaces has often felt like stepping into uncharted territory. For many communities of color, religion is more than just a belief system—it is a cornerstone of identity, culture, and resilience in the face of historical oppression. In these contexts, questioning or rejecting religious beliefs can feel like questioning your community, your heritage, or even your own worth.

I may be what some consider a “new atheist,” having only begun identifying as such in January 2023. And yet, one of the most terrifying things I have ever done was coming out as an atheist to my mother on January 1, 2025. I know this because, instead of telling her in person, I recorded a video of myself doing it. Ironically, I was more afraid of coming out as an atheist than I had been of coming out as gay—an announcement I actually made face-to-face. Thankfully, my mother took the news well, and our relationship remains strong.

Now, some might think this reaction is overblown. “Is not believing in God really that big of a deal in communities of color?” The answer is a resounding yes. A 2021 study titled “You Don’t Believe in God? You Ain’t Black”: Identifying as Atheist Elicits Identity Denial From Black Ingroup Members found that:

Black participants, regardless of how strongly they identified racially, perceived a Black atheist as less racially identified than a Black Christian or someone whose religious affiliation was unknown. Additionally, a Black atheist was perceived as less trustworthy than a Black Christian.

This is the isolating reality for many Black atheists. In communities that are already marginalized, rejecting religion can feel like an added layer of ostracization. If your own community sees you as less trustworthy and less authentically Black simply because you reject unsubstantiated beliefs, it is no wonder that so many Black atheists hesitate to come out.

To be fair, I understand where this perception comes from. The assumption that atheism is a “white people thing” is not entirely unfounded. According to Pew Research Center, the majority of atheists in the United States are white, college-educated men who lean toward the Democratic Party. Given this demographic reality, it is unsurprising that many people of color perceive atheism as something that does not belong to us. But is that really a good reason to hold on to religious beliefs or traditions out of fear of being the odd one out?

This is why spaces like the Secular Student Alliance (SSA) are invaluable. Organizations like the SSA remind us that we are not alone. They provide the opportunity to redefine belonging—not by conforming, but by being unapologetically ourselves. For me, secular identity is not about rejecting my heritage; it is about embracing autonomy. It is about creating new definitions of community that value inclusion and diversity over dogma.

Why Representation Matters

Representation plays a critical role in this process. When atheists of color see people like themselves in leadership roles, media, or at the forefront of the secular movement, it sends a powerful message: We exist, and we belong here, too. It challenges the idea that secularism is exclusively for white people and paves the way for others to join without fear of being “othered” or erased.

There are already signs of progress. As of 2020, 21% of Black Americans are religiously unaffiliated, and 1 in 5 Latinx Americans identify as religious “nones.” Even marking “nonreligious” on a survey—or saying it aloud to a friend or family member—can be a brave step in communities where faith is deeply embedded. Groups like Black Nonbelievers and Latinx Humanists have created spaces for secular people of color to connect, share experiences, and find empowerment. Their work proves that amplifying diverse voices is not just about inviting people to the table—it is about ensuring they have the space to speak, lead, and thrive.

A Secular Movement That Reflects Us

The need for inclusivity in the secular movement is especially urgent in today’s political climate. As we face a second Trump administration, the stakes could not be higher. Trump’s political strategy thrives on division—through racist rhetoric, xenophobic policies, attacks on marginalized groups, and defunding essential social programs. His first term left a legacy of amplifying these divisions, and his second term has only intensified them, further marginalizing communities of color while emboldening those who seek to establish authoritarian rule in America.

In this context, the secular movement has a unique opportunity to stand as a unifying force. By making inclusivity a priority, we can counteract these forces of division and prove that our movement is not just about rejecting religion—it is about building a world that values equality, justice, and human connection.

Representation strengthens our movement, making it more inclusive and reflective of the world we want to create. It reminds us that diversity is not just an abstract ideal—it is a necessity. And for atheists like me, it is a reminder that we do not have to choose between our identities. We can be Puerto Rican, Black, queer, atheist, and proud—all at once.

By working with SSA and other secular organizations, I look forward to forging new paths for those who come after me. The more visible we are, the more we challenge outdated narratives about who belongs in secular spaces. Because the truth is, we always have.

Tags: Black History Month