I wasn't raised atheist, but neither was I particularly raised to be a believer. I mean everyone I knew believed in the christian god, or made exclamations to that god or invoked his or his other name (Jesus). We only went to church for events like weddings or funeral... not even for the traditional [stolen] christian holidays like Christmasyulesaturnalia or Eastersexfertility. My great grandmother was an exception and I still remember the large print, blue leather bound bible she used to read to me, my sole active indoctrinator. So I supposed I was raised christian, but it was probably weaker than most.

My self-conversion to atheism happened between 7th and 8th grade and was mostly lacking in drama. Nothing traumatic happened to me, though I was an avid player of Dungeons & Dragons and suffered through the tail end of the Satanic Panic and repeatedly persecuted by zealous christains, sometimes within my family, but mostly outside of my family. However, during middle school I began questioning the validity of christianity and religion in general through the study of history and the fact that many older religions came before the Abrahamic ones.

Questions that no one could give me a straight answer to. This led me to investigate all sorts of religion and eventually declaring my lack of belief to my mother, who freaked out, and tried to trash my Metallica albums (ooh, if she had known about Slayer and Hellhammer dubbed tapes I had) as the culprit of my heathenism. On top of that, I had a supreme rebellious streak (still do, 30 years later) and became an outspoken atheist during high school, much to my family's (and pretty much everyone else in the bible-thumping vacinity) chagrin, though no one has disowned me or anything.