I wrote an article about the Taliban’s effect on Afghanistan women over the summer. I wrote it predominately for a Western audience as a call to action. Only a handful of weeks later, I woke up to the news that the Taliban – or at least their ideologies – had hit Texas.
The hub of cowboy boots, fried foods, country music, and Queen Bey, was overly joyous in their announcement of the abortion ban. A real yeehaw moment for Conservative America. Tragically, several States have since followed suit. Once again submitting women’s health to the dominance of men’s authority. Who would have imagined that the 21st century, for as old as it is, would still procure an oppressive system surrounding women? Women. That’s who.
Pro-lifers are problematic people for a multitude of reasons, but none more imperative than their palpable disdain for women and our uteruses. Coming from another country, I was raised in a community where abortion has always been accessible. The word abortion is comfortable within my language. It has been in my mouth and rolled off my tongue several times throughout my life, and off the top of my head, I can list numerous clinics within my postcode. I remember how teen magazines would run articles on women who’ve had abortions, and how columnist agony aunts were readily comfortable in suggesting terminations to those with unwanted pregnancies. Therefore, advocating abortion is a normal extension of healthcare. Which of course it is.
One of the misconceptions (and there are many) about being pro-women, therefore pro-choice, is that we’re all comfortable with the idea of abortion. I’ve never had a termination. That doesn’t mean I’m special, deserve a red carpet to walk on, or should be rewarded a round of applause. Not only have I never had an abortion, but unless it was a necessary medical decision delivered to me by a trusted gynecologist, I wouldn’t consider having one. Again – hold the applause. The point is this, what is right for my body, isn’t a decision that’s necessarily right for another woman and her body. Who are we to govern each other’s bodies by our own individualized compass? To my Termination Sisters, do you. I fully support you. No judgments here.
For the people in the back row, whose school disastrously failed to deliver adequate and efficient biology lessons, abortions aren’t just used as a form of contraception. And even when they are, that’s ok too. Terminations are used for a multitude of medical reasons, including (but not limited to) miscarriages and life-threatening health risks to either mother or child. I’m sure there are those screaming at me right now for failing to mention sexual assault survivors in need of terminations – I hadn’t forgotten.
Here’s the thing, it narks me that we’re forced to create an elongated list of possible reasons as to why we should be entitled to choose what we do with our bodies. I understand that building a case is important - really, I do – but it’s infuriating that we revictimize sexual assault survivors by detailing their assault as a justification for the most basic right an individual can have: to make choices for their own physical welfare. The alternative means that our bodies do not belong to us, and as far as I’m aware, slavery was abolished in 1865.
I wonder, how far are we to go with this ban? Where are we going to draw the line between what’s medically reasonable, and what’s hypocrisy delivered by tyrannical regulators who don’t support women’s health inclusively? Should women mass together in between our overworked schedules of running the world and taking care of our families, all while campaigning for equalities that we don’t have, only to begin a new campaign against men, dictating their right to choose to have a vasectomy? Maybe we should pass a law so that they need their wives, girlfriends, and boo-thangs consent in order of getting the snip.
It’s interesting (a diplomatic word for WHAT-THE-ACTUAL-FUCK) that here in America women don’t have permission to have their tubes tied without the consent of their (male) significant other. If they don’t have a (male) significant other, they must wait until they find one, who will then hopefully grant them the authorization to be in control of their insides. This doesn’t bode well for those of us who don’t intend on coupling up with uterus regulators. Then again, it isn’t like we don’t already know what persecution feels like; this is another layer on the already mounting heteronormative, anti-women, and Christian supremacy cake.
Adding to that already bizarrely despotic principle, there’s now an angry pursuit to abolish abortion throughout all 50 States; leaving women vulnerable to ‘alternative methods,’ meaning we’ll see an incalculable number of women dying just to be fetus free. After all, coat hangers have never been our friends.
It’s true, abortion isn’t for me. That’s my right. That’s me advocating for my own health and my own principles. It’s an individualized decision, and my right to not have an abortion doesn’t impact anyone. So why is it that if we turned these sentences inside out and stream them the opposite way, they become a problem?
The situation is clear. Women should individually decide what is best for their reproductive organs, without debate, without pressure, without Congress’ influence, and without the external judgment of others. Especially the judgment of other women.
(Image sourced from Google Images)
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