Thinking about abortion.
Thinking about the people who couldn’t get an abortion because they couldn’t afford it, the people right after Sandy who had to put them off and go out of state and jump through hoops because some law or other restricts when and where and how you can make decisions about your own body.
Thinking about Thomas Frank in What’s the Matter with Kansas claiming that anti-abortion Republicans don’t actually want to ban abortion, and then the fact that there used to be something like 14 abortion clinics in Mississippi and now there is one. Thinking about transvaginal ultrasounds and bosses who will break the law rather than buy an insurance plan for their workers that covers birth control. Thinking about the way Tea Party Republicans ran on a platform of economic populism in 2010 and then the third bill they proposed was a radical restriction of abortion rights, and how’s that for your bait and switch?
Thinking about a country, a state, a city where a young woman working two jobs still doesn’t make enough money to rent an apartment and feed her kids and why on earth would anyone think that we should be forced to bear children.
Thinking about sex, pleasure, desire, the way a certain someone’s hip fits into my hand, a smile, a moan, intimacy, waking up together, waking up alone.
Thinking about freedom.
Thinking about Emma Goldman in her midwife days.
Thinking about this:
Thinking about our siloed movements, about focus-grouping a better term than “prochoice” as if that’s going to make them not hate us, as if there haven’t been people using terms beyond prochoice for years, as if the reproductive justice movement hadn’t pointed out ages ago that the term doesn’t cover all the angles we need to cover.
Thinking about women shackled while giving birth.
Thinking of ACT UP occupying a cathedral, sex workers occupying a church, workers occupying factories.
Thinking of Stonewall, of Sylvia Rivera.
Thinking of glowing press releases for (male) (Democratic) politicians saying things that should be so obvious, and of a day when we don’t have to give cookies to men who acknowledge that our bodies belong to us.
Thinking of nurses working long hours and then going door to door after Superstorm Sandy to bring medication and care to people trapped in high-rise buildings.
Thinking of a universal healthcare system.
Thinking about organizing, marching, raising hell. Thinking about what it would take to bring our movements together, to stop talking about “safe legal and rare” and “women’s health” and other euphemisms and say what we mean: that we have the right to our basic bodily autonomy, that we have the right to say when and where and how we will have sex, get pregnant, carry that pregnancy to term, and bear and raise children. That we need no one’s permission, and that we will not apologize.