I really did pay quite a bit of attention during this last election. I really wanted to know what these two guys thought and felt about everything and anything they were willing to let slip.
And so I paid a whole lot of attention to what the people of the country, themselves, were saying. The strongly against (whichever guy); the strongly for (whichever guy). The strongly FOR something or other. The strongly AGAINST something or other.
And let’s face it, in this last election, there were a whole lot of something or others. There was whole handfuls of stuff being slung about as though we were all just a huge schoolyard of children with an infinite supply of goop.
And there were times, I will admit, that I found some of the globs that I was studying to be so fascinatingly inane that I had to address the issue myself.
One was this whole idea that abortion is a gift to women because it gives women choice. And choice, clearly, was something that put women into an entire class separate from the rest of humanity (that would be men).
Because, see, if a man chose to rape a woman, that would be, predictably, a bad thing. But if women chose to kill an unborn child, that would be a good thing.
Somehow the combination of the concepts, woman and choice, created this whole new world of absolute righteousness, this rising above the Earth in a majestic, winged glory that made every whim a sacred decree.
I want this unborn child removed from my body now.
It shall be done, your majesty.
And so I stuck my finger here and there into the silliness and kept repeating: what is it about the concept of choice that imbues it with morality? I can choose to burn down my neighbors house. That’s not necessarily a good thing. Or a moral thing.
Every man you talk to in prison will tell you about the choices he made and how those exact same choices got him to the exact cell where he is now sitting.
Choice in no way equals morality, or strength, or wisdom. It’s just: this or that? Which will it be?
But really I’ve discovered with even more poking around, not about politics this time, but about other things, that the real term used by pro-death-to-unborns activists is right.
It’s my right to have this child removed from my body now.
Yes, your majesty.
I get the feeling sometimes that nobody really sits down and thinks about the words that are being used, their meanings, and how using these words makes them sound.
And, really, WHY DOESN’T THE WORD, SEX, EVER APPEAR IN ANYONE’S ARGUMENT?
Are we really so prudish that we don’t want to talk about any region below the waist in public?
If you look at any piece of media, that would not seem to be the case, so why, then, is sex – you know, that act that brings about the conception of the unwanted child in the first place – the bottom line?
Because the assertion, it is my right to destroy my unborn child, is the second-half of the assertion. The first half being: I have the right to have sex and conceive (create) a child.
I have the right to make it.
I have the right to unmake it.
I have the right to create.
I have the right to destroy.
Some of us get a little excited about this kind of assertion because normally we associate destruction of life (that is to say, death) with either God or the state.
We tend to shy away from individuals taking the matter of destruction into their own hands.
But for women with the right to destroy, hey, no problem. Here let me hold your coat while you get your baby killed.
All this argument really does for the one who asserts it to make the woman out to be both arbitrary and irresponsible.
I wanted something, I got that, but, nah, I don’t want that. The something was nice. But the that, nah, I don’t feel like dealing with it. I just want to go back to doing something.
I want the sex. I just don’t want the consequences of the sex.
AND THAT’S MY RIGHT!
How did we get here, exactly?
What this argument does is devalue both the act of creation and the act of destruction. It reduces life and death to nothing more than dental care.
I have the right to have perfect teeth, and so you have to give me what I want.
Teeth don’t matter so much. You can have them pulled. You can put fake ones in to take the place of missing ones. You can have them shined like a new car. You can reshape them. What you do to them really doesn’t matter.
Same as with this unborn child. You can let it grow into a birthed child, or you can kill it. Doesn’t really matter. Either way.
IT’S MY RIGHT TO CHOOSE!
(I am kind of charmed by the term “pro-choice,” as it really means: if you choose what I tell you to choose then you are being given the freedom to choose. If you don’t choose what I tell you to choose, then you are WRONG and will be condemned! Freedom as the gift of dictatorship. Ah.)
But then there’s the argument that the fetus does not have a right to life. (I have the right to kill, but you don’t have the right to live unless I tell you you do.)
But here’s how it looks to my mind: the woman has inside her a living egg cell. A man lets loose a living sperm cell, that actually has to wiggle and jiggle its way to where its meant to go.
You have two living cells that combine to create something that continues to live. And then it’s told, well, um, you don’t have to right to continue living.
So death it is to you.
I have the right to decree it.
Because I am a woman.
And people wonder why I am so solidly against the ordination of women.
Not only do they tend to give themselves the power of God, but creation is not seen as a blessed stewardship, a magnificence embodied; no, instead, creation just becomes the victim of a malignant dictator.
Maybe I want this child. Maybe I don’t. I’ll see. It’s my choice.
The holiness of creation is so scrubbed out we have a man going to jail for the obscenities of his work as an abortionist.
This is not God.
And yet some churches support it whole-heartedly.
But in the end, it’s about motherhood. A woman should have the right to choose whether or not she will be a mother. Shouldn’t that decision occur before sex? (Oops, there’s that taboo word, again.)
You don’t want children, don’t have sex. Or don’t get into a situation where you are creating life.
In other words, grow up.
And here are women saying, it’s about motherhood. Women who have children. Women who have daughters.
They tell their own children, I could have had you, I could have aborted you. It was my choice.
What a heart-warming message to give to one’s children. That the power of your life was in my hands and I just happened to be in the right mood to decide to keep you. Kind of like a plant. Should I let you continue to grow, or should I weed you out?
I don’t know, it’s my choice to think it over.
A child as merely a choice. Warms the heart, doesn’t it?
And you know, as I know, that it is these exact same women who will be the very first people on Earth to point their fingers and condemn a despot who decides to “cull” his population of dissenters.
It’s not right, they’ll say. He doesn’t have the god-given right to decide who gets to live and who gets to die!
Because it’s our right.
We said so.