I have been mostly lost for words this past twenty-four hours. Lots of cursing. A fury that would frighten civilized people if I were to describe the details. My right hand has been aching; the two knuckles that I broke on a man’s forehead when he put his hand up under my dress as I climbed the stairs in the subway. There are other things I can’t speak of. Statute of limitations stuff.
I have ongoing heartburn, headaches, and something I can only describe as the ghost of monthly cramps. But underlying all of these is anxiety. Dread. A feeling of being penned in with a clock ticking in the background. The fear peaks, the fury returns, I want to break things, and again, I remind myself that the Buddha said holding on to hate is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die.
All of this adds up to what I suspect is a kind of PTSD that women who have had abortions might be experiencing now in light of what that orange shitbag has bought and paid for - “his” puppet supreme court judges. He’ll be bragging about it any second now.
It was hard enough to make those choices so many years ago when it was legal.
Now, all I can do is vote the bastards out and drive. I will drive Georgia campers to the nearest camping-friendly state. No praying. I’ve never been more sure that there is no god running things. The only godlike thing there is - is the energy, the fire we have inside to make sure this gets corrected. That women have autonomy over their bodies and their health.
3 comments:
(((Deb))) thank you for writing these words with such fierce love, especially this;
"No praying. I’ve never been more sure that there is no god running things. The only godlike thing there is - is the energy, the fire we have inside to make sure this gets corrected. That women have autonomy over their bodies and their health."
My paternal grandmother was a tiny woman with a disabled husband, she had two sons, the birth of my Dad nearly killed her, the doctor said if she had another child it would so she had a backyard abortion in Brooklyn in the early 30's, she died.
My mother is a Catholic, she had 5 children from 1955 to 1963, the doctors told her she could not risk having any more. The pill was invented and she took it even though the church forbade it.
I never liked how the pill made me feel, I won't tell you how many abortions I had before I had my tubes tied at 32!
So I have some deep history with this issue. When Margaret Atwood wrote the Handmaid's Tale back in the 80's it seemed too far fetched...
Dear Mo, even this...
That we are compelled to speak to and about these deeply personal and private stories because some shriveled-dick male has the desperate need to demonstrate his power over us.
It's not as if any of us could forget the particulars. We knew what we were doing - determining the course of the rest of our lives. Something that takes a kind of strength I doubt few men have.
Deb, Mo...oh man. Words escape, feelings of love for you both do not...yes, that ones should have to tell their stories as a reaction to this horror...horrors all their own.
xo
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