Life After…Go figure

A Narrative of Life Outside The Box

I don’t know how to write about politics.

I don’t know how to write about politics. It’s not because I lack an opinion. It’s not because I don’t do enough research or keep myself informed. (Although I will never admit, as a good History MA, how much news I get from The Daily Show.) Also, there are so many writing with so much more focus and detail in concert with my beliefs about women’s reproductive freedom and sovereignty than I can summon right now (thinking of Labrat at finally, I guess I hesitate to write about politics because I simply do not understand why basic premises of health, citizenship and marriage equality are at the bottom of the right wing’s toilet bowl. (Considering the size of Newt Gingrich’s behind, you may understand where I’m coming from with that fear.)

I don’t write about politics because lately, I don’t know how to do it without rage breaking through. Without my disgust and nearly helpless loss of any hope of articulation. I don’t know how to express my outrage at Santorum, Gingrich, Romney, and yes, Fox News and, yes, Rush. Not to mention anybody who wrote, lobbied for or promoted a law in Virginia that says before she has an abortion, a woman has to have a wand ultra sound–a kind of rape-for-freedom exchange.

Why do we still have to fight for our freedoms as women? Why is a ball of cells, regardless of potential, considered over the health, psychological recovery or future of a woman in an unwanted pregnancy? Why is it preferable to circle children through underfunded and (despite the system’s best efforts) potentially dangerous or abusive foster or group homes than for two men or two women to love and protect them? Why do I still have a nagging suspicion, two years later, that I was almost unable to sell the house Steve and I had lived in, which was a horrendous financial burden (on a widow from the sort of ‘marriage’ that the GOP seems to get aroused on behalf of) because the bank was hesitating to finance a mortgage to the lesbian couple who bought it?
And yes, I know the horse is dead, I know I’m merely repeating the assault, but Why, WHY is a woman who suggests that many of us need birth control treatments for other health problems being called a slut? (Personally, I think there has to be a more compelling way to argue that in a formal hearing beyond “my friend went through this__” because while I am not a lawyer that sounds like anecdotal evidence or hearsay and this is a hugely real problem that must have statistics and expert testimony hiding somewhere in the waiting room to back it up. Of course considering that the woman in reference was on a short list of witnesses with x chromosomes called to testify, she only had so many options)

I’m sorry. I know it’s simplistic. I know it’s immature to want a just world according to my definition of ‘Just’. I read Ken at Popehat’s post about “The Difference between Us and Them” ( I think he’s right; it’s too easy to demonize people over cultural differences, and I don’t want to fall down that slippery slope. My minister preaches–and I must say practices–the philosophy of going to the people we do not agree with and saying “tell me more. I want to understand. I want to live in harmony even if we don’t agree.” Well, There’s a reason she’s been ordained for so many years and I’m not yet even a ministerial embryo.

I want to write about politics more and if I go to Divinity School, I intend to. I just needed to get the repeated cry of “this is not fair!” that I felt as a High School student in a building full of homophobes, rabid supporters of ‘preserve the life of the embryo even if the mother is a victim of rape/incest/at risk of death/all of the above’ and even more restrictive tenets.

The positions and laws about women’s bodies, human rights and marriage equality that the right keeps presenting are not fair. And I feel sometimes that no matter how I vote, how many protests I’ve attended (not many, I confess), who I donate to (out of an admittedly lean checkbook), what I say they keep coming. I don’t know yet, today, how to write about something that should never have been open to debate in the first place.

And now I have to learn.


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