The connections between and among women are the most feared, the most problematic, and the most potentially transforming force on the planet.
Facing pregnancy and abortion at 16 was one of the most terrifying, traumatic and isolating experiences of my life.
It needn’t have been isolating.
It needn’t have taken more than a dozen years for me to break through the shame and begin to talk about it. It needn’t have taken decades to write about it publically.
But keeping women from knowing their combined humanity and strength has been an effective strategy (conscious or unconscious) of inequality (and free labor and sexual exploitation) through the ages.
Fortunately, for me, the devastating loss of two pregnancies in my late twenties forced me into conversations with other women.
Some women are still carrying the burden of secrets.
Women much older than me are only now speaking of their unwanted conceptions, abortions, adoptions, assaults, rapes. Many die alone with these secrets.
What is particularly unbearable at this moment is to hear boys with whom I attended high school speak of their personal suffering over the unborn. These boys who were among those entitled to our bodies without a care for the conceptions they seeded. These boys who simultaneously celebrate the sham in the Oval Office, the Predator in Chief, who belittles humanity on a daily basis, supported by imposters behind pulpits protecting child molesters.
This is OURS. Our bodies. Our babies. Our stories. Our losses. Our strength.
Get out of the fucking way.
We have a planet to save. A family to protect. A child to raise.