Quite a few declarations were made long ago by a young, sheltered, inexperienced, and perhaps foolish girl: I will never have an abortion, my family will be different. I will not have any regrets. I never expected this particular event to happen. Along with a few bombshells/reality checks, my world was turned upside-side down and it shaped me into the Asian-American Christian woman I am today.
I was twenty-four years old when I received the news from my nurse practitioner. Back then I was struggling to find jobs after finding out the hard way that teaching was not my calling. I was job jumping, my finances were dwindling, and I was living with my mother. I was hoping to get birth control to prevent myself from getting pregnant because my boyfriend and I were sexually active. Once she said, “the test is positive”, my mind went blank. There was no room for logic. Instead, a wave of fear coursed through my mind to the point it was too loud to hear anything else. All I could think was:
What am I going to do?
How am I going to tell my mom and my sister?
Should I also tell my friends?
What would my boyfriend think?
Crap, what would his grandparents think? Should we tell them?
Can we support the baby?
Oh shit, what have I done?
I told my boyfriend over the phone, and we agreed to meet up to discuss more in person. When I shared the news, he did his best to comfort me and assure me that everything would be okay. He even tried to assure me that I would be a great mother, but I had mixed feelings about that response. The news was brought to my family afterward. I couldn’t have done it without having my boyfriend by my side, in person and in spirit. I had one-on-one conversations with my sister and my mother. I remember my mother’s reaction: she cried. I never expected her to cry. In a typical Asian household, it is unfortunately common for some parents to not express much emotions like sadness or provide any words of affirmation/encouragement or even a simple “I love you” or a hug; it is a sign of weakness and a way for the kids to “toughen up”. It is however common for Asian parents (don’t know if it still applies today) to hit their kids as a form of discipline. I was expecting her to hit me or yell at me, but instead, she cried and responded with, “What am I supposed to tell my family?”
I felt guilty watching my mother cry like that. I couldn’t respond. What was I supposed to say to that? I felt like I let her down; I felt like I let my sister down. My sister encouraged me to tell my boyfriend that we needed to “take a break.” In reality, I knew deep beneath this fluffy phrase that she actually wanted me to break up with him. There were many discussions between my family and me. My mother wanted me to have an abortion, which I vehemently refused. She even suggested that I give my child to my sister and brother-in-law to raise since they were stable financially. Then there was adoption. All of the other suggestions that were discussed would result in not having my boyfriend be involved in my child’s life at all, even though he wanted to be involved. I refused to cut him off and did not want to break up with him. My child needed a father, and I also did not want to lose him. If I lose my boyfriend, I feared that he would disappear for good this time. I lost him once back in high school, and I did not want to go through that again. Perhaps it did not make sense to some and I understand. Still, it was the best decision for me because I couldn’t just leave him when I loved him. It was also clear that my boyfriend did not want to leave me either. In the end, we didn’t reach a consensus on what to do with my child.
My boyfriend suggested that we keep the baby because it would be painful for me to go through with the pregnancy and then give the child away. He said I would get attached. He did not push and also said that the decision was up to me, and he would be with me to decide to keep the baby or give the baby up for adoption. Part of me was baffled because it felt like I was given a right to decide. My feelings were valued and considered. However, all of the words coming from the people I care for made me even more indecisive. I got myself into this tug-of-war trying to think about what they said, while trying to think of how my loved ones would get along. I was thinking of ways to get my family to approve him. They hated him before, and now they were using this pregnancy against him. My boyfriend respected my family, but he was disappointed that they were so quick to judge him without making any effort in getting to know him. I mean, I understood why, but at the same time it required two to make a baby; I accepted. I wasn’t raped. We got caught in the moment. I wanted to argue back, but I was unable to say anything. I felt powerless. I could not speak my mind because fear took me hostage. It brought back memories of the time I was not able to speak up against my sister and my mom because they were yelling at me. I hated being yelled at. I automatically shut down whenever I get scolded or yelled at. It brought back the times as a shy, weak little girl who was unable to speak against my parents. In my culture (not sure if it applies in other Asian countries), parents have the ultimate say, no ifs ands or buts. I was struggling between having to obey and repress my feelings to please them and choosing to actually do something for myself. I was also struggling to choose what to do with my child. There were a couple of small moments where my pregnancy was not all bad. Of course, morning sickness was NOT fun and even the smell of meat and certain spices was no help either. I remember craving only food from McDonald’s. I did not want to eat anything else. Part of me was still stressed out and terrified, but a small part of me was curious to know more about my child. My kid liked fast food, ha-ha! But by the time my first appointment approached to get my first ultrasound at this nonprofit organization, things changed.
I went to this Christian nonprofit organization that provides resources and counseling for women like me. It was also a small clinic that provided resources like providing ultrasounds and such. It’s like Planned Parenthood, sort of. I was going through the process of having my ultrasound, but the lady could not find a heartbeat. Just to be sure, she referred me to a local OBGYN office. On the day of my appointment with the OBGYN, I remember having this feeling that something was wrong. I couldn’t explain it, but I just felt like something happened to the baby. Maybe it was a mother’s instinct, or was it my anxiety talking? The doctor said the words I did not expect to hear in a gentle voice: there is no heartbeat. My doctor was kind and offered her condolences. She offered to take a bit of my blood to check on my hormone levels just to be sure as I waited for the results at a later date. I did not know what was going through my head. For some reason, the news did not faze me at all. I guess shock and the numbing of my mind was the only thing I felt. Even when I got the blood results back – it was normal, and I still did not feel anything. I was unsure if I should feel sad or not. I was unsure if I should feel guilty for not feeling sad. Nevertheless, I was officially at the end of my 8th week since the results were official. It was after Thanksgiving.
After a week or two passed, I went back to the OBGYN for a checkup, and my mother came with me because my boyfriend was unable to. My doctor asked if I miscarried normally; I said no. Her facial expression changed from a serene, peaceful look to a look of concern. She mentioned that it was too dangerous for me to have the dead fetus inside the womb this long, so she had me scheduled to have a D&C. My mother argued, asking if I could just get a pill; however, my doctor shook her head. She said the pill would not work for someone in the first trimester. We were told what to expect during the procedure, and we went along with it. The procedure ended successfully on December 18, 2018.
The first day after the surgery was hell on Earth for me. I had been getting cramps that had been getting worse and spread to my lower back throughout the day. It felt like someone left a knife in me and just continued to dig and dig all over my lower stomach, my hips, and lower back. I was in a fetal position most of the evening and throughout the dark night on my bed, on the couch, and sometimes on the floor. I could barely take a few steps all the way to the end of the house to the walk-in shower. By far, it was the worst pain I had ever felt. It was also when the realization of my loss finally hit me. I felt like I had been shot in the head and in the heart, along with getting punched constantly. I realized too late that I wanted to keep my child. I was consumed with guilt, thinking I must have done something to kill my child.
Was it my fault? Did I mess up my body so bad that my baby couldn’t be safe in my womb? Did I pray for my baby’s death without knowing somehow? Did my stress kill my baby?
I would never get to see my child, to hold my precious baby. I would never find out if I had a son or a daughter. At the last minute, I had names picked out. What would my child have been like? Was my child like their father or me or a combination of both of us?
I never cried so hard in my life. I tried to constantly reach out for my little child’s hands, but it slipped further and further away from me. The staggering physical pain wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I cried. I kept thinking it was punishment for what I did. I remember screaming to God,
“I GET IT! I FUCKING GET IT! JUST MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT GO AWAY!”
No response.
As time went on and the pain finally subsided, I felt a dark hole in my heart, along with a bitter seed. The feeling of betrayal made its way home once more like it never left. The only comfort I received was from my boyfriend, one of my best friends, and the nice lady I met at the nonprofit organization who also bestowed me a necklace that I now use as a memorial for my child. There were barely any words of comfort from my family. I definitely had a falling out with them, which led me to move out of my mother’s house to my boyfriend’s place. Part of me was happy that I was free, but part of me mourned that my relationship with them was never going to be the same. I could no longer trust them, my own family.
I was angry with them because I felt that they lied to me. I grew up with my mother constantly telling me that my brethren were community-oriented, especially after the Communist takeover at my mother’s home country. We always stick together and support each other. It was beautiful, and it boosted my confidence that nothing would break my family. Even when I heard many stories from Chinese college students who accepted Jesus for the first time and they got disowned by their families, I was in denial. I believed with my whole heart that there was absolutely no way this would happen to me and my family. Once my pregnancy came into light with my family, that truth changed entirely. I realized that my people were only community-oriented if it was convenient for the family and/or for the community. If you choose or encounter something that was outside the Asian box (i.e., having a baby out of wedlock, different religion, different sexual orientation, even different career), you are pretty much disowned or “dead” to the family. It made a lot of sense, and I connected the dots with my family’s reaction and the Chinese students’ stories. I came to a conclusion that this was true. Of course, I know it does not apply to EVERY family, but alas, it does happen. I thought to myself,
Why tell me “We are a family” when my own family doesn’t even believe it themselves? Why tell me at all? What was it all for then, giving up my childhood and dedicated my life for this family? How could I be so blind and be in denial for this long?
I hated myself for being this naïve because I did not see the obvious signs. My mother gave up, and my sister wanted nothing to do with the family since Day 1 (of course, she has her own trauma and problems to deal with). Maybe I was the only one thinking we needed to stay together as a family. Maybe there wasn’t a relationship to begin with. Maybe we weren’t a family to begin with, or the bonds between us were beyond saving from the moment my father walked out on us. Coming upon this dark reality check about my family and my culture crushed me. I am truly the black sheep in the family. For a moment, I had a taste of my worst fear: being left all alone.
My boyfriend did what he could, which I never held against him. He was there for me, and it helped a bit. He was worried that I had been keeping myself isolated too long. I did not blame him for feeling that way, but fear crippled me. Who could I tell? Other than my mother and sister and a couple others, no one else knew about my situation. Why should I reach out to my family when they were not there for me when I needed them? I could not reach out to the lady or my friend because I did not want to burden them. It stopped me from sharing this secret with anyone else because of the fear of being judged. I was scared of being looked at differently, being seen as someone who screwed up. I was afraid of being seen as someone who was unworthy.
One day, I was catching up with one of my friends at my former workplace through text. I was scared at first on sharing this with her, but a small part of me felt that maybe it was okay to tell her. I was not judged when I decided to date my boyfriend, so I thought maybe I could entrust her with this secret. The secret was too heavy to carry by myself. That was when I found out she had a similar experience I had. It was really nice to talk about this with her. It felt liberating. I still remember what she said to me. The pain would get easier over time. It was not my fault; it was nobody’s fault. I would never forget my child, but I could learn to forgive myself. I understood that this road to recovery would not be easy, but I was glad I would not be doing it alone.
It took a long while for me to take steps in moving forward. Of course, I still deal with the trauma, but it does get easier little by little. I get triggered sometimes, even for seemingly no reason. It felt like an eternity, but I have come to terms with the fact that no matter how many times I want to find out why my baby is gone, even if I may have a theory, it wouldn’t magically bring my child back. Sometimes, I dream of a moment where I get to see my child just once. I dreamed of a moment where I get to embrace my child, kiss my child, caress my child’s cheeks, apologize, and prove how loved he/she is. It took me a while to realize that perhaps it was for the best because I was not in the best situation. If my child was alive, my child would be caught in the middle of this conflict and suffering. I grew up with constant conflict, and I did not want that for my child. With my faith, at least I am happy that I will be able to see my child one day; sadly, it won’t happen for a long while. Still, my child is safe. That’s all it matters.
I have come to terms once more (I still tell myself every day) that no matter who I want to blame for my baby’s death or for my suffering, it would not bring my baby back nor would it erase my suffering. Recently my sister texted me, she wanted to check up on me after the news of the overturn of Roe v Wade. She wanted to apologize for not providing the support and the love I needed in the midst of all that. She also told me that she would stand by me. It was very nice to hear that. It will still be a long while before I can trust my family again. At least I am still trying for not just my sake, but for my boyfriend and his family, a couple of close friends I still have in my circle, my nephew, and my beautiful angel child watching over me. I always tell myself every day that my child would not want me to be sad or give up, the same goes for any kid. They always want their parents to be happy and vice versa. My child’s death also taught me to cherish every moment with my loved ones. It wasn’t worth sacrificing relationships to prove whose beliefs are correct, who is right and who is wrong. I choose to continue moving forward, dedicated to continuing to do what’s right. To help people as much as I can.
I have also been thinking a lot after the reconciliation between my sister and I. Mainly, I have been thinking of my nephew as well as my identity as an Asian-American. I know that I cannot change who I am, being Vietnamese is in my blood. I know I cannot change my family’s history and the generational trauma that keeps following us. Still, we can change our choices based on what we learn about our history. I want to change my family’s history by making decisions different from my ancestors, different from my parents. This generational trauma (hiding our flaws – faking it, high and unrealistic expectations set by our parents, constant worries and anxieties of what could benefit or bring down the family name, pretty much the extreme version of “putting one’s family before our own needs”) needs to stop. It ends now, starting with my sister and I. I know the decision I am making will be difficult, but I pray to God to give me strength to make that difference. I want to make a difference for our future generations. Personally, I will make sure that my nephew will always have a family to depend on, no matter his choices in life. We will be community-oriented the right way.
So, there it is. That’s my story; my deep dark secret. I feel that it is necessary to share this story because I want to share with the women that have to make the tough decision to have an abortion or to give up their child for adoption, etc.: you are not alone. Your voice, your feelings, your life – they matter. Sometimes we have to make uneasy decisions in life. Regardless of your reasons, you do what you have to do. You know what is best for you, for your life. I sincerely wish that the opposing side would see that. I keep imagining myself wanting to slap their faces and shake them back and forth out of anger, saying,
“You guys are not doing this right!! You guys are not loving people as God commanded you! You’re disobeying God! You are not the judge!”
Right now, I want to apologize to you on their behalf, even if they do not feel any remorse. I want to apologize to you all for their disrespect of human life, disrespecting you as an individual who has the right to choose. They don’t take into consideration at all what happens once the baby is born and the mother’s feelings throughout the entire pregnancy. They also forgot that parenthood is extremely hard, time-consuming, and expensive. I know apologies might not make much of a difference for you. It probably would not make up for all the wrongs committed against you. Still, it is a start for me to stand and fight against this injustice. This is personal for me.
Hearing the news of the Roe v Wade being overturned fills me with immense fear and determination. I am scared that we are already taking steps down this dark path where no one has a voice. I am scared that I would live in a country where we would be controlled by people for the sake of their own selfish benefits and beliefs. It reminded me of many stories my mother told me of her time in Vietnam, where she grew up before and during the Communist takeover. It was the norm for the people to be voiceless. It was the norm for them to be controlled for the government’s selfish benefits. One could not speak out in public or on social media about certain “forbidden” topics without getting into trouble. My mother made a difficult decision to leave her home, leave behind her family and her memories, to come to the foreign country of the United States for a chance to have a future for herself and for her future generations. She did not have a choice for herself back at her home – her choice was taken away, so it made sense for her to come here to the U.S. I fear that we are following in the footsteps of the Communist government where no one has a choice, no one has the right to speak up, and no one has the right to believe whatever they want to believe in.
I feel that it is a slap to my mother’s face, making her sacrifice for freedom worth nothing. I feel that it is a slap to my face when I am still trying to recover from my trauma. I do want to have children one day and even adopt one day. I want to have a family on my own terms, but I am terrified of the pregnancy process. What happens if the next one is another failure? Do I have the strength to take on another disappointment? Even with all the data of women having a good chance on giving birth successfully after miscarriages, it still did not erase my fears. I could be one of the smaller percentage of people who ends up being a failure. That is why I am on birth control, so I can still have the time to recover, come to terms with my fears. I am also fully aware how big of a responsibility being a parent is, and currently, I am not mentally prepared for that. I want to have a child once I am ready. Is that so wrong, terrible, and unforgivable? How is taking away my choice going to help me? Plus, it also feels like I am getting an indirect accusation from the “pro-lifers” that I am a murderer when I am not! With this accusation, they believed I gleefully killed my child on purpose without knowing the whole story. It’s as if they thought I wanted this to happen, that I somehow magically manipulated this event with witchcraft or something. Nobody has any control over this, not even my doctor. My life was in danger. My doctor was doing her job. If my provider had not given me the care that I needed, I would not even be here to share this story.
I feel that it is a slap to the face for all women and everyone else here in this country trying to do what is necessary for their life no matter what the reason is. It is a way of declaring to all the women and to all the people: “Fuck you, I want the baby! I do not care for your feelings and your life because they do not matter! I own you!”
I can feel and see the arrogance and the pride coming from the people who cheered and sang worship songs in front of the Supreme Court when I watched a particular video on Facebook; I was disgusted. It just makes me wonder if they sincerely believe they are doing God’s work, thinking they are doing God a huge favor. It was clear that they do not realize or forgot that it was God’s idea to grant all of humanity free will out of love for them. To live their life on their own terms. To come to God on their own terms. Yes, I am a Christian. Yes, I believe murder is wrong. However, I sincerely believe taking away everyone’s choices to satisfy ones’ beliefs and hiding behind God’s name to justify their actions is a worse crime. Who are we, the outsiders, to decide some stranger’s life choices? How is it any of our business to pry into someone’s personal decisions? What right do we powerless humans have?
That is why I am standing up against this decision because no one decides someone else’s life, especially about what’s going on in their bodies. That is their decision whether we like it or not, no matter how heartbreaking and infuriating it is. Having the right to choose has been taken away from the women simply because the other side is arrogant enough to believe and declare their way is the only way. They think they know better, which is why I cannot afford to be silent…not anymore. I admit, I am scared internally out of my wits. There is this inner dark part of my Asian side whispering to me, “Don’t make waves, don’t make yourself stand out”. I even kept thinking I should not share this story because it would embarrass my family. Sometimes, I wish I did not have to resort to exposing my scars by sharing my story because sometimes I tear up just thinking about it, having to go through this dark memory. At this point right now, I have to share it. I need to. People need to know these stories. I fear that this may be our last chance before things get worse from here. I need to speak up because my future, my family’s future, our future is at risk. We cannot afford to go backwards. This will result in more deaths, suffering, and hatred. Case in point with the reasons behind the overturn of Roe v Wade and the upcoming results!
Have they learned nothing of years of history of this kind of method? There was an event like the Crusades (1095 until the 1270s) which was organized by Christian powers to retake the “Holy Land” (i.e., Jerusalem) from the Muslims and the “Christ Killers”, which was a common slur against the Jewish people. On November 27, 1095, Pope Urban II delivered a speech amongst the people, particularly the knights. It was clear: those who defended their home, their sins would be cleansed and granted immunity, and their souls would reap rewards in the next life. The Church would also allow a campaign of violence because it was for a just cause. Many intentions and goals created the Crusades, but this was the biggest motivation amongst the army, especially with Christianity being dominant in their everyday life. Between 60,000 and 100,000 people (men, women, and children) of all classes joined the crusade. There was gruesome violence done at the time against the Muslims and the Jews – executed, by the Christians. Many cities were destroyed. Thousands and thousands of people were brutally massacred, some converted out of fear and some resorted to suicide rather than living a life they did not believe in. Pretty much if one was not Christian, one was forcefully converted out of fear or dead.
Then there was the Native American Cultural Cleansing or “Christianization” (1500s to the 1800s) where early Christian colonists deemed the Native Americans “devils” or “heathens” or “enemies of Christ” and did whatever was necessary (i.e., disease, removal, murder, and starvation) to wipe out any trace of their culture from the face of the world. For example, forcefully sending Native children to Christian boarding schools to abandon their ways completely and convert to Christianity with any necessary measures and conducted this removal process by forcefully moving thousands of Native American people away from their homes in deadly marches out of greed. Fear, racism, and “manifest destiny” – the idea that U.S. expansion was destined by God – also led the U.S. government to authorize wars, attacks, and raids on the Native Americans. Alas, that’s just the surface of the horrors these people endured and still have to endure today. All this happened because they were labeled “inferior”, and the European norms were viewed as superior.
Unfortunately, there are similar atrocities throughout human history, and they have one thing in common, the results ended in despair and destruction. So far, I have not encountered any events where the results of this forceful and savage method do not end up in death, bloodshed, suffering, or hatred stemming from the survivors. These events have many goals and intentions, and this simple yet dangerous intention is one of them: I am better than you, my way is superior to yours, leading to this goal: submit to our ways or suffer the consequences. Throughout human history, millennia after millennia, many people suffered and died for it. There is no glory or honor in such a fate. The intentions behind the reversal of Roe v Wade are no different than the past events, no matter how you look at it. If they sincerely believe this would get people to come to Jesus, then this is a HORRIBLE idea. It would only convince people even more to stay away from Christianity – to stay away from Jesus. More lives will suffer, and more lives will be taken. How is that “pro-life”? How does this support the core belief of “All life is precious”? It is no wonder why people hate Christians so much because of all these deaths and suffering and the blood on our hands, along with the never-ending hypocrisy and lack of accountability.
Whatever their intentions are, I will never fully understand why. I just wish that they would see that not every reason behind having an abortion involves running away from responsibility. I just wish that they would see that whatever the reason for having an abortion or placing the child in adoption/foster care, it is not their place to judge. No one has the right to judge.
I just wish they remember that as Christians, our responsibility is to be the messenger (Mark 16:15), help a fellow believer to get back on the right path in a gentle and humble manner (Galatians 6:1-3), and defend others in need (Proverbs 31:8-9). The only enforcer in this world is God, no one else. Frankly, I understand the temptation very well on judging someone’s lifestyle and choices. I am a control freak and made my fair share of mistakes because of it, but I come to an understanding that there is no value in being self-righteous or feeling untouchable anymore. Think about it, without God, how could we find a way out of sin on our own? How could we get out of paying the ultimate price on our own? We’re not powerful or holy by any means, so why be proud and judge? We’re all in the same boat, no matter what status or gender or color of our skin. Just because we dedicate our life to Christ and be cleansed from our sins, it does not mean that we have 100% protection from the world’s temptations and problems – we can fall short. Don’t forget, we’re humans. Being Christian does not make us superior or celestial in any way. Comparing humanity’s level to God’s level, He has every right to judge because He created everything, he’s all-powerful, and sinless. I also find it funny that in a way they challenge God. They take it upon themselves to declare that taking away people’s choices as a way for people to come to Jesus is better. They, the humans, have the guts to declare that their way is superior to God’s way. Makes me think in a smug yet concerned kind of way, who’s in the wrong now?
If I have to pull in an example on how we need to treat people in general regardless of their situation, Jesus looked at Peter with empathy, compassion, and love even when Peter denied him three times. Jesus never looked at the outcasts with hate, never treated them like they have cooties. Here’s another example where we look to our own faults before we find faults in others.
In John 8:1-11, it mentions the story of a woman caught in adultery. Jesus was teaching at the temple, and the Pharisees brought the woman, made her stand before the crowd, and said to Jesus “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” Of course, it was one of their many schemes to catch Jesus off guard as an attempt to prove Jesus was a fraud. Jesus just stooped down and began tracing his finger in the sand. The Pharisees kept questioning him until Jesus finally stood up and said,
“Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her”.
9 At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. 10 Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
11 “No one, sir,” she said.
“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.”
This incident shines light into each and every one of our hearts. Jesus prompted the accusers to look at their own lives, and every single one of them dropped their stones and walked away because they knew deep down, they all sinned as well and deserve the same punishment. This passage is one of the excellent examples of how we have a tendency to react judgmentally or having an attitude of self-righteousness towards someone else’s mistakes. Let’s face it – we all have this problem because it’s easier, and it makes ourselves feel better. No one likes being corrected, especially when it comes to one’s own flaws. We need to remember and remain humble of the fact that God has forgiven us and paid the price for all of us. None of us has the right to throw stones.
And what about Jesus? He could’ve easily joined in the punishment party and picked up the stone too, especially with him not treating sin casually either. Jesus had every right to throw the first stone because he fits the description of one without sin, but he didn’t. He defended the woman and treated her with dignity. I personally love the fact that Jesus waited until he was alone with the woman to talk to her because this was a personal and private matter. It’s not something an outsider should be involved in, not even a person in power. Jesus also respected the woman as an individual who did not deserve that public humiliation. Jesus reassured the woman with words of grace and truth. He did not punish her; instead, he was punished for her. He could have punished her, but he forgave her. He took her place on the cross to die for her sins. Jesus did the same for all humanity. We need to remember that when God revealed His kindness and love, He saved us, not because of our righteous deeds, but because of His mercy. Other than God, what other all-powerful deity would go to all that trouble for us measly, corrupt weak humans? For us nobodies?
I’m just heartbroken and disappointed. More people will suffer because of this decision. It is a major tragedy that affects not just women but affects all of us, especially future generations. What happens if this is your child, your grandchild, your niece, your sister, your best friend, anyone in your social circle? I will not let my future be dictated by some falsely entitled nobodies. I will not let my mother’s sacrifice be in vain. I will not allow tyrants dictate everyone’s choices. It is their life to live. Not mine, not anyone’s. For the pro-lifers who support the decision to overturn Roe v Wade, I implore you to listen to our story. Your life and worldview are not the same as everyone else’s. Things are not as black and white as you think. Things are not as simple as you believe, no matter how much you wish it was. I learned that the hard way because I used to think like you. I am begging you to look at us not with disdain and hatred, but with compassion and empathy. We are not monsters. I beg you to change your approach when looking at us and speaking to us. Please put down your stones and approach us with understanding and with an open mind. Follow Jesus’ example. You have already repeated the same mistakes our ancestors made by forcing other people to live the way you want, for your satisfaction.
