Monday, October 3, 2011

Miss Guided

I had to run errands today. Apparently it's October and that means it's extra important to tell people their bodies are not their own, so there were a bunch of anti-choice church-related protesters all along Woodward for a good mile stretch surrounding the Shrine of the Little Flower. Signs that separated Jesus from baby-killing women, all that. I know that the people protesting (including preteen girls and boys and men and women of every age, all caucasian besides one family I saw) have no ill intent, and genuinely think that they are helping people with the blanketing notion of no abortion, and I feel no contempt for the actual vessels that hold the misguided ideas that seem to be spreading through a tired and cranky America.

But I couldn't just ignore it. It made my blood boil. The youth were laughing about the seriously twisted things they were saying: a joyful fellowship of horrific judgment. I had to express what I was feeling. Not angrily. I had to go to the mega-grocery store anyway for a couple things and I picked up a marker, poster board, and masking tape. In the windy lot I marked the thing up and then taped it to the passenger door (I debated the hood at first, which may have been more effective, but who knows). I trawled by. I don't think anyone even tried reading the sign, but you know, I don't care. Because I said something I believe wholeheartedly, publicly, without malice. And this was such a trivial little gesture, but for me it was big because I'm mostly unable to articulate myself. It's a step, just one of many. Ineffective to others as it in all probability was (except maybe for that middle aged guy with the pickup who watched me tape the sign up), it still signified a movement within me; a movement from reserved, tongue-tied sputtering frustration to clear, responsible expression. Whew.

The displays of white crosses I see on church lawns are angering and disturbing. I know someone who walked up to some protesters and asked them if they wanted someone else's shoes to walk in. I'm realistic; I know that this issue will be debated for a long time. But really, being vehemently against personal bodily choices is silly at best in the grand scheme of things. Really

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