It’s one of the more common questions I’ve encountered since becoming an atheist: “Well, where do you get your morals from, then?” Usually, it’s presented with genuine curiosity. Sometimes though it’s met with all the derision of an overzealous chess player declaring “Checkmate!” Irrespective of the tone of the speaker, though, the implied sentiment rings clear: “You can’t have morals without a belief in (my) God, so you–Godless, faithless–must be devoid of morality.”

As an ex-Christian, I can speak mostly to my response to this question in a Christian context. But it’s an idea that isn’t unique to Christianity.

Many religious people find a moral guideline within their various holy texts–a place of respite to which they can turn for advice on how to do the right thing. In my experience, morality became a thing so tied up with the Bible that the two were nearly indistinguishable. When I initially became an atheist I felt stranded, dizzy with the pressure of discerning a set of values without the Bible to rely on.

Perhaps another reason people doubt the morality of those with different beliefs (in this case, specifically atheists) is the perceived loss of incentive. Under many faith systems, the reward for living a good life is pleasing your creator, or a pleasant afterlife or the accruement of good energy for yourself and your loved ones. Presuming that the atheist believes in nothing after death–no Judgement Day, no divine punishment for their behavior–it is easy to leap to the question of what motivation atheists might have to be good.

I take no issue with relying on one’s religion for guidance. The problem arises in the claim that without a certain religion (or God), morality is impossible. It’s exclusionary in every form of the word–not only insulting to atheists, but to adherents to every other religion. At best, it renders those outside the morality-claiming religion as merely confused, pitiable souls who secretly follow the code of a God who they don’t worship. At worst, it rejects the morality–and thus, humanity–of huge swaths of people.

This claim is also somewhat nonsensical. To claim that religion has a monopoly on morality begs the question of what people did before that religion existed. To take Christianity, for example: Did pre-monotheistic cultures devolve into chaos? Was ancient Greece devoid of kindness, fairness, justice?

Good people have been doing good things since the inception of humanity. Christians created The Salvation Army to help the homeless and the hungry. A group of Muslims founded Islamic Relief to provide humanitarian relief and promote preparedness for disasters, among other things. Goodwill is an entirely secular nonprofit that seeks to help the jobless. Similarly, people from all walks of faith have committed atrocities upon their fellow humans–and have done so while claiming their own gods–or lack thereof–condoned it. If it is true that one religion holds the key to moral behavior, it is puzzling to consider why those of other faiths–even those who may never have heard of said religion–can behave more morally than the devout.

As for what incentive atheists might have to lead good lives or behave morally, the general desire for the well-being of yourself and others is not as elusive as one might think. Even if we assume the worst of humanity–that we are all intrinsically selfish, and do what is best for ourselves–it is in a selfish person’s best interests to cooperate with those around them, to work for the rights of everyone because you are part of everyone, too. Assuming the best of humanity–or at least assuming (as I do) that most of us fall somewhere on the spectrum between selfishness and selflessness–it is senseless to gatekeep goodness. Anyone who has ever flinched at a gory scene in a movie or seen a child share their snack or felt tears rising while comforting an upset friend knows that empathy is universal. The concept of fairness is not so complex that we need a particular Bible or parish or faith to grasp it.

I–Godless, faithless heathenry and all–am capable of moral behavior. I exercise it when I can, and I am ashamed of myself when I don’t. This is not due to my Christian roots, or my secret adherence to some faith. This is due to my humanity.