Nice save

Ahh, I just love the smell of lunacy early in the morning.

The time is upon us: "40 Days for Life" is well under way across the U.S. and other countries. I took a moment to peruse the website and found some real gems. Here is my favorite, from a collection of what appears to be soundbites from 40 Days participants:

"Learning that the 'free ultrasound' coupon worked, convincing women to get ultrasounds – and saving lives "

I'm so glad that your scheme "worked", and it doesn't sound the least bit conniving or devious. What a farce; tempting women with coupons? How about you offer her some free childcare for that baby she's about to have that she can't support? Which is not to mention that ultrasounds are also provided in ab clinic, but that's a different can of worms.

In the corner of the website there is this ticker:

September 22 – October 31
Day 29 – 346 babies saved

More like 346 women harassed, accused, guilt-tripped. Oh wait, it's more like a billion women. Those 346 are just the ones who actually stopped to listen to you, who either didn't want to have abortions in the first place or who didn't know where to turn for real information and advice and fell victim to your lies and injustice.

In a list of ways for antis to "get involved", the lovely folks at 40 Days recommend the following:

"And please consider fasting. Some people are unable to fast from food for health reasons; that's understandable. Fasting simply involves renouncing an activity that can put a barrier between you and God. It could be television, the internet, chocolate, coffee, etc. You really can do without it. Take the time you usually spend in those activities and give it back to God."

Yes, please starve yourselves. Not only will it do nothing to end abortion, but it will hopefully reduce your anti vigor and I can enjoy a peaceful walk to work. Maybe you can "fast" from being lazy idiots and go help people in need. Clean up one of the filthy, drug-paraphernalia-ridden parks that unplanned children are playing in/being kidnapped and raped in. Or are you too afraid to know how some people really live once they drive away from that clinic? Maybe. All that matters to you is that you have your chance to scream at people during your free Saturdays and head back to cushy homes where you don't have to worry about others' problems. Helping your fellow man, indeed.

Do us all a favor; if you really want to make lots of happy children why don't you start making this world a better place for them. Better homes for our children mean better communities for everybody, including yourselves you anti pricks.

Surely I don't need to be writing this post at all. Right?

"It's time to stop treating us as two equal sides in a reasonable debate. Let's get it clear -- they are the perpetrators and we are the victims. Any discussion of how to de-escalate the situation should take place within the anti- abortion community. "We do not have anything to bring to the table," said Convisser. "We are not willing to say it's O.K. to shoot every sixth doctor or woman."

Recently I attended a conference all about abortion. It was pretty awesome. I met providers of abortion care, advocates for abortion access, researchers of abortion medical protocols -- and even some fellow abortion bloggers!

Speakers included lawyers who prepare court cases defending the right to abortion from encroachment by state legislators; counselors whose experience assisting abortion patients stretches back to before Roe v. Wade; and the women of the Chicago Abortion Fund representing their efforts at grassroots advocacy for patients by patients, which was incredibly cool.

You know who else was there? Security guards, lots of them, and police officers with explosives-sniffing dogs. Not because they were called in to investigate something, just, you know, every day of the conference as a routine precaution. There was a panel staffed by First-Amendment lawyers, criminal prosecutors, and law enforcement experts. It was all about how to respond to violence and harassment against abortion clinic staff and patients, and what threats are and aren't actionable. You could tell some of the abortioneers in attendance were relieved by the rare chance to talk about what they were enduring and to be around others who understood.

Curious what sorts of activities have been documented? Or what threats aren't actionable (or whether it depends on a particular judge's mood on a particular day)? You might be surprised. You'd definitely be disgusted. No matter what your political stripe, I'm pretty sure you think of yourself as a decent person who wouldn't stalk people, threaten harm to their families, kill their pets and destroy their homes and workplaces in order to get what you wanted. You might even go so far as to say, "Hey, that sounds like, um...terrorism?"

Or would you?

Does your movement accept someone who firebombs women's clinics? How about someone who bursts into them with a shotgun and murders whoever he sees first? Someone who conceals explosives underneath an overturned flower pot, maiming a nurse and killing the security guard who stops to straighten it?
Someone who burns down a doctor's house and barn, killing horses and a dog and a cat? Someone who shoots a hero in the fucking face in his fucking church?

How about the people who visit clinic builders' neighbors with photoshopped fetus posters or greet nurses by name at the door of their own homes? The people who park outside my friend's apartment building night after night, or the ones who followed my patient as she drove home from her appointment? The ones who line the sidewalks outside of clinics and jeer, insult, shove, and elbow pregnant women and their partners and their mothers and the people helping them get inside the clinic? Who say creepy but just-vague-enough shit to clinic counselors as they walk in to work, on the phone at work, in the mail at work?

Not the same, you say? They're only expressing their concern and compassion for the innocent? Protected free speech? I wonder what you'll say when yet another one of those "sidewalk counselors" is added to the list of those arrested for harming born, life-living women and men.

I hate that I have to choose between talking about this so that everyone will know, or reassuring my parents and siblings and partner and best friend that I'm fine, my clinic is fine, we have police-caliber security staff and bulletproof glass and a relatively quiet neighborhood populated with relatively friendly businesses. But those ARE the options, because quitting this work is not an option.

I'm fine, my clinic is fine. I just need to: take a different route to work each day, live in a walk-up, never be a homeowner, not shop online, marry a police officer, not have kids or pets, never be famous, not write about my school or my neighborhood or anything about my family, not tell people I meet about this wonderful blog for fear they might connect the dots. You want to talk about common ground? I'm doing lots to meet you there. What are you doing to prevent my murder?

A Protester's Morning Prep

I’ve talked about protesters before and how I often feel frustrated by them. Recently, as I looked out our bulletproof window, fixated on our local protesters, I daydreamed about how they must prepare for their day at the abortion clinic. I imagined Jude, a loud, black haired, fair skinned woman rising out of bed, her alarm clock waking her early. After her instant coffee, she sits at her Formica table and paints her fingernails a bright, blood red. Her cat jumps on her lap and suddenly, she wants a cigarette, but quit years ago and quickly crosses herself. She proudly eyes the signs placed near her doorway, ready to be hauled to the back of her large, gas guzzling SUV. Jude wishes she had someone to help her carry all the signs to her car.

Jude realizes some of the signs are fading and she may need to find new, large photos of aborted fetuses. As she picks up the phone to call Mary, one of her cohorts, a smile crosses her face because Mary must still have some old pictures of chemical abortions. “That will do the trick,” she thinks. As suspected, Mary does have very “raw” looking photos. “The more grotesque, the better,” Jude brightly tells her. Mary excitedly starts telling Jude that she thinks abortion rates are going down because when she called the clinic yesterday, pretending to get her granddaughter an appointment, the clinic had appointments available for today! They agree to talk more about it after Mass, where they’ll meet the other protesters.

Jude hears the weather alert on television and learns it will be very cold. It’s disappointing news. Whenever it’s too cold or too hot, the others complain and don’t want to walk very long. She doesn’t understand why they can’t be as dedicated as she is. Thumbing her rosary, she makes her goals for the day. She must stop at least two women from killing their babies. Quickly, she ran to find more pamphlets.

Outside the Cathedral, they all meet and Mary has very gruesome pictures, indeed. Jude feels giddy and decides she’ll carry the largest. She took aspirin with her coffee and is certain her arthritis won't kick in for a few more hours. Others brought extra signs to place on the windshields of their cars. The advertisement willd be great.

Like every Friday, they arrive outside the clinic, en masse, slowly picking up their signs. It’s windy and cold; John immediately starts hacking up a lung. He’s getting over bronchitis. Jude rolls her eyes behind her sunglasses and digs her hands deep into her black coat. Sighing, she loudly reminds them all that the terrible weather is just god’s way of punishing the sinners about to enter the clinic. All nodding, she begins passing out rosaries to each of them. All ten of them huddle closely in a circle and pray for the sinning women about to abort their babies. They pray for the abortion clinic workers to come out of the darkness and find new jobs. They feel just and pure and righteous. Jude leads the prayers and firmly instructs five to stay in front of the clinic and the other five to go to the back of the clinic. As they walk off, she yells, “Remember! If you see a car coming, pray loudly and quickly get in front of the driveway. We might save her from killing the innocent today!”

After a few hours, Jude begins thumbing her scarlet rosary; she stares at all the cars in the parking lot. Her eyes burn. “How could this town be filled with so many wicked women,” she wonders in disgust. Frowning, she angrily shoots a look at the newer protesters complaining their arms are hurting. John’s cough gets irritatingly loud and Mary says she’s dizzy. Grace suggests it’s Mary’s low blood sugar. Jude knows what they want: lunch. She’s dissatisfied. She still has 10 pamphlets and 15 little plastic babies left. No one changed their mind. The staff completely ignored her yells and pleas to find new jobs. Even on their smoke breaks. She clenches her sign. A red nail is chipped. It’s been an unsuccessful day. After prayer, she barks they can all meet at the new restaurant that just opened up. Her treat.

Through the window, I watch them pack up their bloody signs. Pamphlets dropped by clients, blowing away in the wind.