Making a statement

Sometimes, I consider whether I would love my job as much as I do if it weren't so controversial, if the mere act of going in to work weren't so badass, if the answer to "What do you do?" weren't guaranteed to make a statement. I can't pretend that loving my job isn't partially a political act. I adore advocating for women, fighting the evil forces of the anti-choicers, and the way I feel when a client expresses her appreciation, and those things wouldn't affect me quite the same way if not for how (inexplicably) volatile choice is.

Don't get it twisted; I'm not in any way thanking the antis for making me excited to go to work. Well, unless that angers them...in that case, I will admit that on a day when I didn't sleep enough and I'm walking through puddles and my hair is looking weird, seeing the protesters outside my clinic inspires me to work harder and longer and better.

But that's the dramatic side, the one that gives me activist cred at fundraisers and boosts my ego. The quieter side is the one that truly sustains me and sustains choice and providers and clinics. If I woke up tomorrow in my dream world of abortion on demand and coffee flowing from my faucet and kittens all over my apartment, I would still leave my cat- and caffeine-filled apartment and go and proudly facilitate abortions and choice and justice. Because it would be the same amazing clients, dedicated staff, and a very much needed service. I believe in choice because of what it is fundamentally, not because of what it's been made into politically. Even if abortion were treated as casually as our society treats a Pap smear, if it bored people at cocktail parties, I would still honor and revere it, and THAT is badass.

I'm quite disappointed at the lack of stock images of women of color. I tried.