Tag : choice

January 20, 2018 – 11 am

The 2017 Women’s March was unforgettable. Never have I seen so many people on the streets in DC, or felt such a resurgence of energy for all things equality.

While it was Las Vegas, Nevada that hosted the main Women’s March in 2018, we who showed up at the Lincoln Memorial’s reflecting pool for the 2018 Women’s March to the Polls in DC weren’t exactly disappointed, either.

It was cold, and just a day before, the anti-individual liberty, consumption-uber-alles crowd had shown up, leaving their “Defund Planned Parenthood” signs in the rubbish, right where they belong:

As I, along with my awesome, feminist boyfriend (a real one, not one of these gaslighters offering you praise on facebook and abuse-talk in private) made our way toward the Lincoln Memorial, I ran into plenty of kindred. Having been called a “witch” on several occasions by the woman-hating crowd, I really got into this person’s costume:

I’ve been called plenty of interesting names by those who purport to “wuv da wittle baybees,” including those who’ve lovingly told me in their best Jesus-loves-you voices they were “glad I got cancer” because I “would kill babies.” These woman-hating totalitarians don’t fool me with their claims of “sanctity of life” – it’s more like $anctity of the Almighty Dollar and its next-of-kin, consumerism.

Republican opposition to ACA (and its on-board birth control), and to programs like WIC and SNAP mean a baby’s life ain’t so precious, but it sure as hell is lucrative when, as of 2017, it means a $233,610 injection into Trump’s made-in-China economy. Yep, that is how much raising a child in the US costs. It’s no wonder having a kid plunges so many into poverty, which is the real shame going on here.

And regarding all those “heartfelt” pleas to adopt? Once again, please follow the money: The average cost of newborn adoption in the US through an agency is $43,239, while an adoption through an attorney is $37,829 (and yes, this would obviously be on top of the $233,610 figure, above, for raising a child). It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that many of these agencies embrace every two-bit piece of no-choice legislation, every roadblock to abortion they can get their money-grubbing hands on, complete with those tearful, bleeding-heart conservative cries of “life.” If you’ve fallen for those, congrats – you’ve been marketed to (or perhaps a better word, considering the times, is “conned”).

Having had a casual discussion with an adoption attorney years ago at a party who was hinting at having me bird-dog “marks” (iow, scared, pregnant girls) for him at Penn State, I’d say it’s the latter. He backed off when I told him to…and after I stated I was pro-choice and that he should just pull himself up by the bootstraps instead of cashing in on female bodies.

Adoption is big business, and no wonder I read about so many coerced adoptions these days. And – update – what about those 1500 “lost” kids separated from their parents at the US/Mexico border? If all those children were “relinquished,” what would they be worth to adoption industry profiteers, using the average agency cost of adoption of $43,239? Multiplying $43,239 by 1500, that would yield the nice juicy sum of $64,858,500.

Yes, that’s $64,858,500. Wow – and that’s just for adoptions. Adding in the figure to raise all of those 1500 children – or $305,415,000 – we get a grand total of $415,273,500. What a godsend those anti-abortion laws and family separations are to those running adoption agencies, government child support services, diaper manufacturers, clothing manufacturers (China, big time), and baby food…and, and, and! Coerced childbirth pays off, and it’s easy to see why and for whom. And – of course – it’s women’s bodies being used to deliver the profitable “product” – a newborn consumer.

But, the pussy-grabbers and money-grubbers left out some very important things, like individual liberty and, if you’re a believer, god-given free will. Those pesky things! And to think, women were actually born with brains, the nerve! We should just all be headless wombs for profiteering, bodies for the taking. No worries, mates – sexbots are on the way, but be warned: You will have to pay for them.

It is no mystery the fetishization of the fetus – i.e., all those signs you see, showing a disembodied, curled up embryo with the woman on whom it depends nowhere to be found – is all the rage among the profiteering right and their pornographic, wallet-driven obsession with my uterus. I was happy to stand in front of them at the March to the Polls:

[Photo by Matt Neufeld]

But, think I will, and choose I do. As the sign below says, My Pussy, My Rules. I make judgement calls every day, from all options available, my uterus being no exception. It’s called informed consent. I alone have the last word regarding what happens to my body, as well as who – whether it is cancer treatment or the right to end a pregnancy I don’t want…or who I share a bed with.

I’d say this lady sure as hell knows what she wants:

Not everything goes as planned, which is why freedom of choice rules. It is no accident that these times give us so many inventive forms of birth control just as we have a environmental and overpopulation nightmare going on (I’d say that’s what “god’s plan” is). Technology advances for a reason – to allow us choices we would not have had back in, say, the 1950s. (If you don’t like technology, then stay the heck off them airliners – god didn’t give you wings, right?)

Coerced pregnancy does not have a place in a free society. A theocracy, yes. A totalitarian society, yes. And in those societies, note how coerced abortion is the other side of the same coin as forced childbearing. It’s an easy flip of the switch, once the totalitarian machinery is in place.

But not here in the Land of the Free, at least, not for real Americans. Real Americans don’t vote against freedom of choice, or individual liberty, or god-given free will.

Reading the Roe v Wade decision, we see that there is no requirement to have an abortion. There are no protesters outside maternity wards, screaming at women not to have their babies. You are free not to have an abortion just as you are free not to have a kid. It’s the same “on all sides,” this freedom of choice thang. But, if legal abortion threatens your “faith,” then that ain’t a faith worth having – and I’m having none of it.

If you don’t have my back on all of that, you don’t have my vote:

We’re at a point in human history where we don’t need to have kids. They don’t complete everyone’s picture, and cost-wise, they are a luxury. I am not about to shirk my responsibilities in helping resolve some of humankind’s problems now, instead of lazily passing them off to the next generation of unknowns. We need clean air now, not 40 years from now, and it may be a woman who will solve this issue – if she isn’t saddled with another unplanned corporate consumer.

Motherhood – and parenthood – is only genuine and loving if it’s freely given. Otherwise, it is mere production. Thus, I err on the side of making this a society where every child is absolutely wanted and cherished, and dripping with their parents’ love and ever-present attention.

I wish the US was a country that loved children, but it isn’t. It has a fantasy-like love affair with fertilized eggs and beliefs, but no respect for the effort it takes to actually carry a fetus to term and then raise the resulting child in what can be a very harsh reality.

So, how can we love kids through meaningful action? Let me count the ways:

But don’t worry your pretty little head on that last one – you can still pay $1000 a month for insurance if you want to. I assure you, insurance firms will come up with a plan, just for you! And they will take your money, if that’s what does it for you.

As Nancy Pelosi, Tim Kaine and many others spoke in front of the Lincoln Memorial on this cold, but sunny and beautiful winter’s day, I snapped this picture of the woman in front of me, and it’s a perfect way to end this blog, reminding everyone to vote, because if you’re a woman or person with a uterus, your life is on the line. If you’re a man, just think of anti-abortion laws as mandatory fatherhood and child support payment laws, because that is just what they are, if you #FollowtheMoney.

Be Well and Free,
Alison

PS – Thanks to Matt Neufeld for two photos in this article, including the featured photo of me at the 2018 DC Women’s March to the Polls at the top of this blog, and where indicated via caption. All photos © Alison Lorraine or Matt Neufeld.

The 2017 Women’s March in Washington, DC, is billed by Wikipedia as the largest single-day protest in US history.

I’d say! Just check out my view of 14th Street, looking toward the Mall:

It was also the most feared – by potential marchers as well as others.

Countless friends and strangers told me I must be crazy to go to DC and march with Trump (illegitimately) taking over the Oval Office. “Be careful,” they admonished. Even some of the staff at the local UPS store looked at the sign I was printing up, and told me point blank, with fearful looks on their faces: “I would not want to be down there.”

I can only imagine how much bigger it would have been, if not for one thing: fear.

Fear of what, I wondered. Being arrested? Being bashed by counter-protesters? Being injured, or worse? Or – and this is my favorite in corporate-fascist-land Amerikkka: Being caught on facebook by employers for having gone and joined the “rabble-rousers” and “troublemakers?”

Apparently so – and which only made me want to go more. Because we had finally hit rock bottom.

Trump was erected US President by the Electoral College. I had nothing to do with it. The installation of a US President by 538 people, now THAT is something to fear – and something to change. I’d had an immediate conversion of that fear into anger and, even more importantly, action. Because the first woman president, who’d won three million more votes than do-nothing Don, was going home. And the most entitled white male I’d ever seen run for president – one who couldn’t even pull off the popular vote – was going to the White House.

It is no wonder so many people don’t want to work hard or try to win honestly. America is a bona fide rigged system. The scammers and cons and data scientists have figured it all out, right on up to the White House. Flawed democracy, yes we are. If all one needs to do to win the presidency is to “win here, here, and here” per the Electoral College’s welfare-like voting system, which awards more voting power per voter to those residing in less populous states – and not win the majority of our hearts and minds – that is reason enough to be angry as fuck.

The remedy for fear being deliberate, decisive action, I booked a bus ticket to DC, printed out some maps of the metro system, packed up my things, and rolled up my UPS store-made sign, which said, “RESIST” on one side, and “FORWARD” on the other. One word per side, each of which said it all.

I arranged a short stay through All Souls Church Unitarian in DC and landed on a comfy couch bed in Tenleytown. They next morning, I entered the metro station to the excited urgings of a metro worker reminding us – and to be fair, the entire station was full of women’s marchers – to “hurry up! 10 am, people!” A big smile stretched its way across my face. This was going to be a great day of batteries being recharged, of hopes being resurrected.

I rode a crowded red line train to Judiciary Square, and after spending a couple hours attempting to get to the March epicenter at 3rd and Independence, I encountered no cell phone service along with standing room only. I could just about see the large video monitor set up at that location when word came through the crowd that the march itself, at least along its planned, permitted route, had been cancelled. There were just too many people.

With all bets off and nearly a million marchers suddenly loose on the streets, we collectively headed toward the Ellipse and the White House on whatever streets or grassy sections of the Mall would take us there, permitting be damned. Along the way, DC Metro police officers showed up to partition the crowd. Yes, it was that big. I’ll never forget the look on the cop’s face as he put up barrier tape in front of my nearby crowd, which had just crossed the Mall on the way to Pennsylvania Avenue, and effectively sent half of us up Constitution and the other half up Pennsylvania Avenue.

It was fear.

Fear. There it was again, on the opposing side of a police barricade from where I was standing. He was not alone in being frightened by We the Pussy.

Fear of the vagina runs rampant among the American victim-entitlement class these days (largely white, and largely male…and completely insecure). It is the same fear behind all the taxpayer dollar-wasting abortion bans and restrictions, when we should be passing measures guaranteeing all-inclusive healthcare for every citizen. It is the same fear behind the bathroom safety arguments against passing the ERA, the same stupid argument being dusted off and currently used against transgenders having the individual liberty to use the facilities they feel most comfortable using. It is the same fear behind the lack of equal pay. It is the same fear behind the lack of transparency in so many things that keeps the large majority of us in some way screwed over.

I often imagine how great this country could be if there were true and full equality for everyone – and that means ridding ourselves of fear. It means women letting go of their inferiority complexes and the repeat-taught need to be taken care of, or spoken for, or installed into limited societal roles set aside for us. It means men letting go of their unearned superiority and entitlement – especially the attitude that women’s bodies are public property, and somehow theirs to do with or vote on or restrict as they please. Those who created the society where women must work twice as hard to get half as far now find they need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and compete with women who answered that challenge, most often under the constant and rigorous scrutiny and second-guessing that always comes with a big helping of double standards.

And, it means we go to the root of where this bigotry came from – and that is none other than organized religion, or what I’ve come to call the men’s mythology clubs. You know, the ones where men design a god that looks just like them – and then relegate everyone else to second-class status using the concept of – and fear of – a supreme being to artificially inflate their value while minimizing that of all others.

But, like it or not, women have a LOT of power: Women create life. Women decide who gets born. With some exceptions, women raise the next generation. Everyone on this planet has a generous – some may say too generous – woman to thank for their existence. A lot of people live in fear of this reality, and, according to “god” – who I’ve finally figured out is “the little boy who lives in my mouth” from The Shining – they gottacontrolthosesluts. Sluts, of course, being women who enjoy their bodies, along with their nature-given – or god-given, depending on what or who you believe – capacity for multiple orgasm, and who can take care of themselves without needing a male hovering over their every move.

Currently in the US, there are far too many laws and attitudes which reflect fear of women rather than gratitude or respect. And, currently in the US, there are far too many women who fear and refuse to own their own power – and who turn around and vote against their own best interests. A lot of this has to do with what is falsely referred to as faith.

If one cannot view and experience the full menu of choices within a free society and adhere to one’s own faith without violating the freedoms, safety and well-being of other citizens, then that is not faith at all. It is something else. And once again, that something is fear.

Authentic faith has no fear. It does not dictate. It does not seek to control. It doesn’t need to.

I’ve never seen so many people lacking authentic faith as those who voted for Trump. And I’ve never seen as many people in Washington DC, as I saw on the day of the Women’s March, not ever. How appropriate on the day after Fear Itself took office.

For me, it was a reminder that when We the People put our boots on the ground and bodies on the line, we have real power. Imagine that same crowd going rogue. Imagine all of them armed, holding guns instead of signs. Then imagine this: The “scariest” thing I heard at the 2017 Women’s March on DC was “ooops, sorry” when someone inadvertently stepped on my foot, which happened quite a bit during the March, and on the way into and out of the Metro…and where Metro personnel were nothing but encouraging and helpful…and fearless, telling us all to get our butts in gear, and get to the March on time…and don’t forget your kids, your backpacks, your water, your maps…or your First Amendment rights:

In answer to the many concerned people who admonished me to “be safe” at the Women’s March and then asked me what it was like to be there, I told them this: Even with Trump taking office in our midst, I was among hundreds of thousands of my sisters and brothers in intent. I’ve never felt safer.

Nor have I ever felt more fearlessly charged up to go home and do even more – I made it my mission to make at least one call to a representative, senator, state legislator, mayor, council member, governor, etc, per day. And to go to as many protests as possible. And to contribute to causes with time, money and ideas. And…and…AND!!!

Please also see my video of the 2017 Women’s March on DC.

Resist On!

Be Well,

Alison