My parents are Muslims, though they aren't practicing Muslims. My mom only recently started praying at least twice a day (supposed to pray five times), but my dad still doesn't.

I told my mom I was an Atheist back in 8th grade (2003-04 school year). She was upset and told me she didn't want me go to hell.

Over the years, she has told me random stories of miracles in real life to sway my opinion. Usually I'm able to give her a scientific reason behind those "miracles." I can't think of any good examples off the top of my head at the moment.

She's persistent, though. I haven't lived with my parents since 2010, but my mom and I speak often. She will mention faith every couple phone calls from the last time we spoke.

I told my dad about lack of belief in any God in 2007/2008. He was upset, too, but in a different way than my mom. He was upset that I had continued faking being Muslim just to fit in when our relatives would visit.

I recall that day getting into an argument with him, and I referred to all Muslims as terrorists, which was silly of me. I've known far more Muslims who are just average people trying to live their lives than I've met Muslims who are complete religious freaks, refusing to accept non-Muslims in any way.

My dad sat me down and had a stern talk with me. He told me that my disbelief doesn't mean I'm better than anyone. If I can just assume all Muslims are terrorists when I have grown up a Muslim and know they're not, how can I expect others, who haven't grown up with any Muslims, to be accepting?

Both my parents are not the most open-minded people, but they are a bit more open-minded than you'd expect immigrant parents to be. And I'm thankful for that.

Who am I thankful to, though? Fuck if I know. There isn't a God I can thank.