It’s been a little while since I’ve posted. Frankly, I’m overwhelmed.
Every day, every paper, every broadcast, every news site, brings a new and upsetting wrinkle to the “debate” over women’s health and reproductive rights. And yes, that’s “debate” in scare quotes: this isn’t a debate, it’s a temper tantrum. It’s is the farthest thing from a reasoned push-pull of wits that I’ve seen since I worked at a preschool. The lies are getting bigger, the screams louder, the talkers themselves more brazen and unapologetic. The extreme fringe–people who would hesitate to condemn outright acts of violence against women and those who care for them–are the ones driving the discussion. The fate of women across the country is being used as a distraction, a sop thrown to the wingnuts.
I am not a sop to be thrown. And I’m so, so tired of this.
My jaw is sore from gritting my teeth. I find myself wanting to curl my knees to my chest, protectively over my uterus, and just go blank. I’m sick of screaming to myself, the same disconsolate wordless wail. It would be so much easier to stop thinking about all of this, to convince myself quietly that the good guys will win in the end, to retreat back into my daily business and not let all of this mishagas get to me so damn much.
But I’m afraid that if I do that, the terrorists will win.