Miranda. 22. Useless wastrel who daydreams in sequins, comic book expressions and musical numbers.
You might know me from that one glasses meme.
Prone to posting feminist quotes, various and varying babes, items of the literary and comic nerd culture and the more than occasional tentacle.
Any reaction images/gifs I post (unless they are of my face) are almost definitely not mine.
Via VHS SEXIsn’t it odd how everyone that supports abortion has already been born?
Strangely, everyone who opposes abortion has also been born. It’s almost like you have to be born to have opinions… like it’s part of the basic definition of being a person or something. I’m so glad you pointed that out. It’s a really great point.
Via thus spake sevenhey what if someone invented a machine that allowed women to transfer their pregnancies to men and then the government passed a law that if a woman didn’t want to have a baby the biological father was required to carry it how fast do you think birth control would stop being an issue
BEST NIGHTBLOG POST EVER
“IT’S UNETHICAL TO FORCE PEOPLE TO CARRY A BABY!!!!” MEN SHOUT
“NO FUCKING SHIT!!!!” WOMEN REPLY
My grandmother, who’s a devout Christian born in Texas in 1929, has always been very open minded. She’s not racist or homophobic, most likely because as a Mexican she knew what it was like to face discrimination, but she’s extremely pro-choice, and a few years ago she told us why.
When she was a preteen (11-13), she moved to San Francisco and lived in an apartment building for some time, the woman in the apartment next to her was a young single nurse living on her own. This woman was very friendly, hard not to like.
After a while my grandmother noticed she hadn’t seen the nurse in some time, as did other people in the building. Around the time my grandmother was wondering where she went, she began to notice a bad smell coming from what seemed like somewhere in the apartment. As time went on the smell got worse, until her family realized it was coming from the apartment next to them, the nurse’s home.
When they broke the door down they found the nurse dead in her bathroom, the smell was from her body beginning to rot.
Turns out that the nurse had gotten pregnant from a very high up MARRIED doctor at the hospital she worked at. Of course in that time having a baby out of wedlock, especially from a married man, was something extremely shameful, so she had tried to give herself a home abortion and died in the process.
My grandmother never forgot what had happened to the nurse, and that was the reason she was and still is vehemently pro-choice.
When people say shit like “Our generation survived Roe V Wade” it makes me want to tear my hair out. These people, either out of ignorance or just plain stupidity, don’t acknowledge the FACT that Roe V Wade wasn’t the start of abortion, it was the LEGALIZATION of it.
LEGALIZATION MEANING THAT IT HAD ALREADY BEEN HAPPENING, NOW IT WAS JUST LEGAL TO DO IT.
Before Roe V Wade women like my grandmother’s neighbor were dying or being mutilated by home abortions or unlicensed doctors. Women are going to get abortions whether it’s legal or not, the best thing you can do for them is to give them a safe, clean environment with a licensed doctor and good moral support.Anything less is simply a death sentence.
(Source: choosechoice)
Via STFU, ConservativesVia Better Than YouThank you Joe Biden for pointing out that you can be pro-life personally but pro-choice politically. The country needed to hear that.
Ugh, no. This is just perpetuating the misconception that pro-choice = abortions all the time in every situation. Being “pro-life personally but pro-choice politically” IS being pro-choice, full stop.
There really is no pro-choice vs. pro-life. There is only pro-choice, the protection of woman’s right to choose regardless of whether you would chose abortion for yourself, vs. anti-choice, the desire to strip women of those rights according to your own personal beliefs.
This was my problem with this post as well. As a whole, pro-choice is not pro-abortion. Pro-choice is do whatever the fuck you want because it’s your body and you can choose. Individuals who are pro-choice can be completely against abortion but know that it’s not their place to make that decision for someone else.
But again, the terminology is totally fucked and this pro-life/pro-choice dichotomy needs to end and we need to start using more accurate language that actually resembles what people believe.
After an emotional 14-hour workday that included fist-fights between lobbyists and a walk-out by women Democrats, the Georgia House passed a Senate-approved bill Thursday night that criminalizes abortion after 20 weeks.
The bill, which does not contain rape or incest exemptions, is expected to receive a signature from Republican Gov. Nathan Deal.
HB 954 garnered national attention this month when state Rep. Terry England (R-Auburn) compared pregnant women carrying stillborn fetuses to the cows and pigs on his farm. According to Rep. England and his warped thought process, if farmers have to “deliver calves, dead or alive,” then a woman carrying a dead fetus, or one not expected to survive, should have to carry it to term.
http://msmagazine.com/blog/blog/2012/03/31/at-11th-hour-georgia-passes-women-as-livestock-bill/
I live in Georgia. I’ve had an incomplete miscarriage. This horrifies and sickens me.
Tell me again how there’s no War on Women. I dare you.
I bolded what was used to justify this form of legislation.
If a cow can give birth to a stillborn calf, then a pregnant person should also have to give birth to a stillborn fetus because pregnant people are the same as cows and have no emotions.
Love,
Rabble
Wow. No. Goddamnit, Georgia.
Via UPWORTHY
ViaCouldn’t not post this.
This is missing Barbara Bush - she’s pro-choice too.
It’s also worth mentioning that McCain’s daughter, Meghan is pro-choice too — and George W. Bush’s daughter, Barbara, is super pro-LGBT rights.
It’s almost as if they have something in common…like some sort of organ or something that their husbands/fathers don’t understand…
That’s an interesting observation… but it probably means nothing.
Must just be the ol’ ladybrain acting up again.
Via STFU, ConservativesIt wasn’t a coat hanger. It was a wire.
The theory was that by inserting the wire through the cervix, moving it around a bit and then removing it, an infection would result and the pregnancy would be aborted. It worked. It was March 1967.
Afterward, after I watched the ‘doctor’ wash his hands with one of those little soaps wrapped in white paper, after he tilted the bedside lamp just so and after he said, “That should do it,” I got dressed, left the motel with the flashing vacancy sign, made my way to the bus station in downtown Detroit, and rode in the dark in the eerie silence of a mostly empty Greyhound all the way back to Mt. Pleasant, the tiny Michigan town where I was a freshman in college. Curled up next to the window under my black pea coat, I wondered how long it would take, whether it would be on the bus or later. I worried that something a lot worse than being pregnant would happen to me because of what happened in the motel room, that I’d get sick or bleed to death. I wondered if I would ever feel right about what I had done and if there had been choices that I hadn’t considered. I remember feeling like a mouse that had found the tiniest hole for escape while a giant tomcat loomed. I was distraught, empty, and alone on that bus. Back in my dorm room, Jane, my roommate, held both of my hands in hers and said, “It will be ok. You’ll see. You’ll have lots of children when the time is right.” It was a gesture of kindness and compassion that even now brings tears to my eyes.
I was 19. I had slept with my boyfriend just a single time. When I missed my period, I ever so reluctantly made an appointment with the town gynecologist who confirmed the pregnancy and then quizzed me incessantly about whether I knew who the father was. Did I know who the father was? Of course. There had only been one person ever. Yes, I knew.
The doctor told me to tell my parents but I couldn’t. My mother who had suffered for almost her entire adult life with severe depression was so deep in her terrible place, on the couch or in bed all day, sleeping or staring, that I almost cancelled my departure to college. The last child at home for many years, I had become her driver and caregiver when these episodes occurred. Leaving seemed like the worst kind of betrayal and yet the pull of the relief I knew I would feel being out from under her mental illness was irresistible. I really wanted to be in a place where people were happy. The thought of going home, sitting down on the couch, where I knew she would be, to tell her I’d gotten pregnant was unfathomable. Without question, I could not do that. My problem, then, was mine to solve.
My father, matter of fact as he was about everything, would line up a Justice of the Peace and get us married but my boyfriend had already nixed that plan. He had a friend who had a friend who knew about the ‘wire’ plan. We didn’t have the $250 it would cost to pay a bonafide illegal abortionist so the only option was amateur hour. There was no real discussion. The wire became the path we would follow. I was cornered. I knew I was alone with the consequences whatever they would be. My boyfriend could walk away and no one would ever know. He was free. I was cornered.
I grieved and was wild for a full year after that. I broke up with my boyfriend, realizing right away that any man who would advocate the wire wasn’t lifetime commitment material. I drank too much, bounced from guy to guy, and remember not much from that time except long times in the shower crying in grief and guilt. For years, I counted the days and months - how old the child would be if the pregnancy had not been terminated. The guilt was overwhelming. But as I matured, I recognized the decision for what it was - what I believed was right. I accepted responsibility and forgave myself. In the truest terms, I did what I had to do.
But what I had to do was a dreadful thing. The lack of safe, legal, and affordable abortion put me in a dingy motel in downtown Detroit to undergo a risky, unsanitary procedure that could easily have maimed or killed me. That I lived to tell the tale, to write about it on this page, is a small miracle of my life.
Six years later, abortion became legal in the United States. Of any accomplishment of the women’s movement, this one was always at my core. It wasn’t right for women to risk so much in order to be in control of their own reproductive lives. It wasn’t right to punish women who have been cornered by circumstances - unplanned pregnancy, no job, no money, no options - by daring them to find the $250 illegal abortionist in their city or worse. It wasn’t right that women should have to pay for a mistake with their fear, risk their future health and their very lives while men could walk away and be free. I was happy, so happy about Roe v. Wade. At last, I thought, this one thing for women - at last.
Twenty-five years after my abortion, busloads of anti-abortion protesters came to my town. Each morning they would pick a different abortion clinic and turn out by the hundreds to harass women coming for their abortion appointments. The crowds could be enormous with people waving signs with what they claimed to be pictures of aborted fetuses, and singing “My God is an Awesome God” verse after verse, hour after hour. Right away, I signed up to be a clinic defender and each morning I’d get up at 5, pick up a friend, and go lock arms with hundreds of like-minded folks to ‘protect’ that day’s abortion clinic and the women who needed its services. We’d stand there silently while the protesters yelled at us and sang their hymns. They’d call us baby killers and murderers.
Sometimes it would be nose to nose, shoulder to shoulder. The protesters would bring their children, too, and they would be singing “Jesus Loves Me” between choruses of “Awesome God.” We’d all be standing in a giant scrum while morning traffic zoomed by, horns honking in support of both sides. Special protectors in orange vests would shepherd each woman into the clinic for her appointment while protesters surged to scream at her. I couldn’t believe how evil and cruel it was to be screaming at a woman when she was in such a terrible situation, when she was cornered. I wanted to yell at them, “HASN’T ANYTHING BAD EVER HAPPENED TO YOU?
Where is your loving kindness?
And here we are again. Demonizing women. Limiting birth control. Shrinking access to legal and safe abortion. Daring women to go find the wire. All while men can walk away and be free.
It makes my 64-year old soul angrier than almost anything. The extreme hatred for women voiced by politicians, the talk of legitimate rape, the unbelievability of the idea of an ultrasound probe, the intent to demean me/us - it all puts me back on the bus in the dark, by myself, cornered and alone.
It’s so wrong to treat women this way. So wrong. We just can’t go back.
Where is your loving kindness?
Who knew such republicans existed.
GIVE THIS MAN ALL THE ADSPACE
ALL OF IT
in which there is an ACTUAL ORGANIZATION for republicans who aren’t massive assholes
it does help to remember that the Republican Party was founded on pretty reasonable ideas before the religious nutjobs got to it
Holy shit, this is a republican?
This is what republicans are meant to be, yep.
Sigh.
(Source: stfueverything)
Via A Deluge of Academic Enthusiasm
