Abortion: a love story
I had many abortions. So many I can’t clearly remember whether it was four or five. I do remember four moments of when I said, “Oh shit. I have to get an abortion.” But I can’t quite remember the fifth. Yet that number is the one I have given to doctors on my chart where it aks “Termination of pregnancy? Yes or No. If yes, how many?”
I have no regrets. I wouldn’t even think about them except for the war that Republicans, religious leaders, and various and sundry right wing mostly-male zealots have been waging against abortion since Roe v. Wade and the women’s rights movement that led to it. It feels good to say this publicly but it’s also scary. I do think about it because of, well, vampires.
Roe was a nail in the coffin of patriarchy, and like all vampires who aren’t killed with stakes in their hearts, they can pry open their coffins. I am sure if you held up a mirror to Sen. Mitch McConnell, who did manage to steal President Barack Obama’s SCOTUS appointment of Merrick Garland and then triumphantly manipulated the accession to judicial power of Brett “Devil’s Triangle is a drinking game” Kavanaugh, you would not see his reflection.
Vampires scare me. They have since I was a child and watched the TV horror soap, Dark Shadows. Vampires provoke nightmares, the kind when you try to scream and nothing comes out. Yeah, vampires scared me silent.
