For all Americans, the South holds a grim fascination. For the right, it is the last bastion of Christian gentility holding out against a secular civilisation grown mad on its own technological success. For the left, it is the ceaseless font of a medieval barbarism too powerful to look away from, too absurd to be quite real.

It’s the site of some of the darkest episodes in US history, and from it have emerged versions of Christianity that have for centuries brutalised the children of the South. None have borne the worst of this land in greater measure than its black population. And yet, among all demographic groups in the United States, none is as regularly church-going as the non-Hispanic black community (55 per cent according to a 2010 Gallup Daily poll, against a 43 per cent national average).

How has this happened, and what is it like to be a secret atheist in such a community? To answer those questions, I talked with Mandisa Lateefah Thomas, founder of Black Nonbelievers, Inc. Created in 2011 in Atlanta, Georgia “to provide secular fellowship, to nurture and support nonbelievers (particularly of color) in open identification, to promote secular pride, and to organise nonbelievers for charitable causes”, it has in three short years sparked affiliated groups in Dallas, Detroit, and Orlando.

Growth like that suggests a real need is being filled, that there is a silent stratum of America’s black population quietly doubting, but too afraid of losing their cultural identity to speak out. As Thomas explains it, “Because of the historical role that religion and the church played in the black community, many tie in belief as being inherently part of black identity. Therefore, to be someone that doesn’t believe in God is to be considered a traitor. Most of our community – from the people to the leaders – incorporates belief in almost every aspect of their lives, and it is assumed (and sometimes expected) that we all do. So it can be extremely intimidating and stigmatising to openly admit to being a nonbeliever.”

But why does Christianity still have this allure after having been forcefully foisted so many centuries ago? “The historical aspect of Christianity’s influence in the community plays a huge role in why many blacks still believe. While it was used to justify slavery and was imposed on people of color, the church also served as a system for support at a time when legislation discriminated against blacks. So there is a strong loyalty, although the doctrine is very detrimental to growth and development.”

It reminds me of the church billboard on the “Hurricane Neddy” episode of The Simpsons: “God welcomes his victims.” The power structure of Southern religion is this intricate cloth woven of suffering and humanity, where the self-serving dictates of the Baptist community created a situation of such overarching despair that the only refuge from it was the religion that started it all. Caught in that vicious dynamic for centuries, ultimately reclaiming it and using the social organisations that it spawned as a source of strength throughout the 20th century, is it really that surprising that so many in the US black community have remained so loyal to it, to the tune of an astounding 85 per cent of non-Hispanic blacks identifying as Christian (Pew Report, 2007)?

It is not backwards thinking or cultural inertia that keeps belief running that high, it is a historical situation with remarkable and inspiring triumphs against overwhelming adversity at its core. Transitioning away from that place of security and community is incredibly difficult, particularly in an area of the country where the lingering remnants of systemic racism make such security and common identity so important to everyday agency. So, to really impact the religious landscape of the South, fundamental social and economic concerns have to be addressed first, and Black Nonbelievers, Inc. is working on plans to do just that.

“We are in the process,” Thomas reveals, “of creating a program that will assist ex-convicts and at-risk youth develop professional skills which will help them find jobs and start their own businesses. We also want to intermittently help nonbelievers who need assistance if they lose jobs, or face financial challenges as a result of losing business or a loved one due to being a nonbeliever.” This is critically important work, not only for the cause of humanism, but for that of humanity. If they are successful in creating their support group for ex-cons and youths, it could go far to rewriting how the South interprets its sense of self. This is new ground for a secular group to tread there, and few areas of the nation need it more.

One of my favourite things is watching old episodes of QI is to see the panel shudder in disbelief as Stephen Fry unveils horrendous details about the Southern United States. The region is an international punchline, a caricature of which any amount of brutish gullibility is believed. But it need not be, and there are local heroes, like Mandisa Thomas, who are working hard to bring something true and human to the mix and din of Southern society. Yes, it’s fun to laugh and then move on with the day, but more important still to listen and believe that good can be done, even here, and give what support we can. Because only when the least free of western society are able to breathe easily in their open identity can the rest of us actually have a sense of what our identity fundamentally is.