Editor’s Note: This week, “The Wall of Separation” blog is featuring the essays and videos submitted by the winners of Americans United’s 2024 AU Student Contest, which asked high school and college students to reflect on their vision for church-state separation. Submissions do not necessarily reflect the views of Americans United.
“What’s that on your forehead?” The question came from across the classroom, where a curious classmate squinted at the small, red bindi on my forehead. It was a symbol of my faith, an intimate connection to my roots, yet here in this classroom, it felt out of place — misunderstood, alien. “It’s part of my religion,” I explained, trying to smile through the discomfort. But behind that smile, a deeper question simmered: In a country that prides itself on religious freedom, why does my faith feel like an anomaly?
Growing up as a Hindu girl in a predominantly Christian community wasn’t easy. It meant enduring puzzled looks, subtle exclusions, and sometimes, outright dismissal of my beliefs. What stung the most wasn’t the ignorance of my peers — it was the quiet endorsement of this ignorance by the very institutions that were supposed to protect me. Public schools, places meant to be inclusive and neutral, often felt like battlegrounds where my religion was tolerated at best and erased at worst.
Take, for example, the Christmas assemblies at school, where the hallways were adorned with nativity scenes and students performed Christian carols like “Silent Night.” While my classmates joined in the festivities, I felt excluded in a space that seemed to celebrate one faith while neglecting others. This focus on Christian traditions made me question whether my own heritage had a place in a school meant to embrace all religions.
These experiences underscore a larger, more insidious issue: the erosion of the separation between church and state in public schools. When religious displays and activities are woven into the fabric of public education, they send a clear message about whose beliefs are valued and whose are not. For students like me — students who don’t fit into the Judeo-Christian mold — this message can be alienating, even harmful.
The concept of separating church and state is rooted in the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution, which was designed to ensure that government remains neutral in religious matters. This principle was fiercely debated during the early days of the American republic, as religious groups fought for influence in public life. The landmark case of Everson v. Board of Education (1947) was pivotal in affirming this separation, as the Supreme Court ruled that public funds could not be used to support religious activities. Yet, as the decades have passed, the lines between church and state have become increasingly blurred.
Historical examples abound where the church-state divide has been tested. During the 1920s, the Scopes “Monkey Trial” highlighted the clash between modern science and religious dogma in American schools. The trial centered on whether a teacher could legally teach evolution, reflecting a broader conflict between progressive education and conservative religious views. Despite the trial’s outcome, the debate over religion’s role in public education continued, with varying degrees of influence over time.
More recently, the push for religious symbols in public spaces has echoed past controversies. In 2010, the Supreme Court case Hobby Lobby Stores, Inc. v. Burwell addressed whether for-profit corporations could refuse to provide certain contraceptive coverage based on religious beliefs. The court’s ruling favored the corporation’s religious objections, highlighting how religious considerations increasingly intersect with legislative and corporate policies. Such decisions underscore a growing trend where personal beliefs influence public policy, often at the expense of minority perspectives.
It’s in the textbooks, too. In history class, we learned about the Pilgrims and the Puritans, about the “city upon a hill” and the moral mission of America. But where were the stories of my ancestors, of the great Hindu sages and scholars, of the contributions of non-Christian cultures to this country? They were missing, erased, as if my heritage didn’t matter. As if my story wasn’t part of the American story.
The erasure of minority perspectives is not a new phenomenon. During the early 20th century, Japanese-American students faced discrimination in schools where they were often subjected to derogatory stereotypes and forced assimilation practices. The internment of Japanese Americans during World War II further marginalized these communities, stripping away their cultural identity and reinforcing a narrative of exclusion.
Today, we’re seeing a surge of legislation aimed at blurring the lines between religion and public education. From the proposal to replace school counselors with religious chaplains to the push for “In God We Trust” signs in classrooms, these efforts represent a dangerous shift towards religious indoctrination in spaces that should remain secular.
This isn’t just a battle for religious minorities like myself. It’s a battle for the very soul of
our democracy. When one religion is given precedence in public schools, it paves the way for discrimination and exclusion. It teaches students that conformity is more important than diversity and that their worth is tied to how well they fit into the dominant religious narrative. This is not the America I believe in.
What can be done to counter these threats? How do we ensure that public schools remain places of inclusion and respect for all? The answer lies in education — not just for students, but for communities at large. We need to raise awareness about the importance of church-state separation and the dangers of religious favoritism in public institutions. We need to empower students to speak out against religious coercion, to demand that their beliefs are respected. And most importantly, we need to remind lawmakers that their duty is to all citizens, not just those who share their faith.
For me, it’s about ensuring that future generations of all backgrounds don’t have to feel like outsiders in their own schools. And it’s about reclaiming the promise of America, a promise that all are created equal, regardless of their faith.
Historically, women from marginalized communities have often been silenced or overlooked. My journey is not just about challenging religious discrimination but also about asserting my right to be seen and valued as a woman of color, as an individual with a unique cultural identity.
In the end, religious freedom is all about the right to be different, and the right to belong.
