Dana lives in Seattle, and Tracie lives in Germany. We are businesswomen, writers and humorists. We write about life, dating, and today's modern women.
After saying my prayers and before getting out of bed this morning, I checked to see what everybody had been doing for the last few hours on Instagram. I came across a story that my niece, graduating from high-school this year and Chapman University bound, posted. It was a picture of the 25 men who voted YES on the Alabama abortion bill. Under the picture she posted the following comment: “Not that great at math–but I’m sensing a pattern here.”
Staring at her post, I remembered why I went to bed irritated last night.
I rolled the bed covers back and got up to get a coffee before I turned the morning news on. Maybe I’d just been dreaming about the vote in Alabama last night. And if I hadn’t maybe something had happened during the night so that my niece could remove her post.
We walked into the kitchen at the same time. We embraced and I kissed her on the cheek. I could see that she was irritated/sad/and not quite right.
“What’s up little girl?” I said.
“Oh Auntie,” she said, “I don’t have time now to talk about it now,” she said. (She was rushing off to school.) “But we’ll have to talk about it later. I just don’t understand how a man can be in charge of all of this,” she said sweeping her hand across the front of her body.
“I don’t either little girl. But we’ll talk later. Have a good day and make it rock,” I said.
A good day. This is actually a very sad day for America. How can we possibly, possibly be going back in time? Fred Flintstone and every other prehistoric Stone Age man is dead! And the Flintstones were an animated comedy–this is real life and it is far, far from funny.
Regardless of your religious or political persuasion, or whatever stance you hold on this issue, it is simply UNJUST/WRONG/AND UNACCEPTABLE for a woman not to have control over her OWN BODY/HER OWN LIFE/HER OWN DESTINY.
In 1662, Virginia legally recognized slavery as a hereditary, lifelong condition. The station of slaves was one of inferiority that left them vulnerable to mistreatment by masters. This oppressive institution was law. Fact.
So now, here we are 357 years later. Let me just draw a parallel. Bear with me.
Let’s stay a poor little girl in Alabama is victim to an incestuous attack. She is forced to be shackled to the unwanted child/trespasser/invader disfiguring her child body; forced to be reminded of the crime against her daily. And let’s say that the child born of this incestuous attack is born with some kind of genetic mutation–there’s a host of them which you can google. And let’s take our scenario one step further and imagine that this poor little girl in Alabama has no or inadequate health care. She will forever be shackled to a life of struggle, one she didn’t choose; a life that is not a life. Who is going to deal with this poor little girl’s psychological injuries? How the hell will she be fully able to make someone understand–through her eyes–the absolute destructive nature of incest and rape and no freedom of choice? Who and what is going to make her life worth living? And just how am I supposed to explain this to my niece???
Lawmakers and the laws they make. Shame on you. Break the shackles.
Set my people free.