You Forgot the Guys

If we just got rid of men, we could eliminate abortion.

Sounds crazy, right? But it's true. Men are a part of this equation, yet when so many pro-life men call out abortion, they point directly to "baby killing" women. They spit their sanctimony at women who have the nerve to want rights, but they never mention the men.

And guys, we wouldn't be here without you.

In a year that's full of examination, I think we need to reexamine the narrative surrounding abortion. I think we need to recognize that there's a man at the heart of every one.

Sometimes, the man is a rapist. Sometimes he's an abuser. Sometimes he was the love of her life, but when he found out, he walked out. Sometimes he demands the abortion. Sometimes, he's a loving and supportive partner. Sometimes he's a heartbroken husband, holding her hand, as they both mourn a child with health issues too devastating to be compatible with life.

Always, he's there, whether in the shadows or in the room.

This truth hit home for me in a hard way, decades ago. As a young pro-lifer, I met a girl. She was a devout Catholic and she was endlessly kind and adorably quirky. She became a cherished friend, and she told me the story of her first love. She fell for him the way teen girls do, head over heels, heart over mind. She would have done anything for him and in her quest to please him, she become pregnant. Her Catholic faith and her love for him made her decision easy, keep the baby. But he, enrolled in private Catholic school, wanted to forego faith in favor of his already planned future.

They lived in the city and, one day, a week or so after discovering her pregnancy, she was walking home from high school and was jumped by a crew of boys. Their aggression was aimed at her belly. Her first love, the holder of her heart, had ordered them (kids themselves) to do this. He wanted the baby gone.

Decades later, my memory is fuzzy, but my impression is that the boys were too scared to do real damage. Still, the damage was done. She was pregnant, and scared. Soon after, she legally ended her pregnancy.

I think we can all listen to this story and understand that there wasn't some grandstanding girl here, beating her chest and proclaiming her rights. There was a terrified teenager whose heart was broken, trying to survive, and there was a boy who was willing to break her, quite literally, to avoid consequences. It's lot more complicated than "women are baby killers."

I'm not trying to change your minds about abortion, but for heaven's sake, please change your words. If you're against abortion, understand that abortions occur because of men's actions, just as much as because of women's decisions.

We all want less abortions. We all want less trauma. Men are an important part of achieving that goal. We need to raise our boys to appreciate their role in unplanned pregnancies. The only way to protect from STDs and pregnancies is for the man, or the boy, to wear a condom. And yet we don't hold men and boys accountable. We shrug our shoulders and say, "but he says it doesn't feel good." We excuse them of their responsibility and make it the woman's alone.

STOP.

We need to raise our boys to respect women, and all beings. We need to model kind behavior and call out the inexcusable. We need to hold them accountable.

If there were no men, there'd be no more abortions. It's true, but as a woman who is married to a strong, supportive, secure, sensitive, silly at the right times (and often at the wrong times) man, and as a woman who is raising her boys to be the same for their future partners (minus the silly at the wrong times part), I wanna keep the guys. I just want to tell them the truth about their role in our lives.

I wrote a few weeks ago about the role affordable healthcare plays in preventing abortions, and it's still such a valid point, but I missed this vital message - if you want to create a world with less abortions, men are going to have to "man up." Because if men wore condoms, and if men didn't commit rape or abuse...imagine the abortions we could prevent. Imagine the trauma we could eliminate.

We can't forget the guys.

And we can't continue the neanderthal narrative that blames women's clothing choices for rape, women's intoxication for assaults, or the woman alone when we discuss abortion.

Because there's a guy there. Always.

The Thing About Our Hearts...

On Cannon Hinnant, a 5-year-old white child murdered by his black neighbor, and used by racists to denounce a movement:

Know what’s amazing about our hearts? They are filled with infinite amounts of love. When we have another child or meet another forever friend, we don’t somehow subtract from the love we give the others. We love them all.

The same goes for our hearts’ ability to care. Our hearts can ache and bleed for sweet Cannon, just as our hearts can ache and bleed and demand justice for the sweet, innocent lives of Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, Elijah McClain, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and so many others. You heard that extra part, right? The demand justice part? That’s why there are hashtags, marches, and movements. Because while Cannon’s killer is behind bars, and was put there immediately, justice hasn’t been swift, or delivered at all for the others.

You can ache and cry for Cannon. You can send prayers and love for his mama. His poor mama. I know I sure have. And you can also ache and cry for the mothers and fathers and siblings of Tamir, Trayvon, Elijah, Ahmaud, and Breonna. And you can take to the streets to demand that their lives matter enough to receive the same swift justice as little Cannon.

Our hearts can feel all these things. Our hearts should. What our hearts shouldn’t do is use one child’s death to diminish another’s. I guess I want to ask why. Why are some compelled to, instead of honoring and lifting up Cannon’s family, use his death to diminish the death of others, and diminish a necessary movement?

Our hearts can mourn for all the innocent lives lost. Our hearts can love them all. And our minds can sure recognize that when there is no justice, there should be a movement.

*My little Anna on our way to a drive-through BLM protest. She's 5, and she gets it.

Spit and Shit

On Saturday, Anna and I were outside playing. Or, truthfully, I was trying to have a rare phone conversation and Anna was following me around demanding I jump on the trampoline.

As we did our little march back and forth, a yellow and black Dodge Charger came up the road, slowed, and stopped at our gate. I looked up, smiling, assuming it was someone I knew. Instead, a stranger leaned out of his car, stared right at me and my 5-year-old daughter, and spit at us.

We were too far away for him to hit us, but we were close enough to see his spit fly over the fence, and the drool hanging from his bottom lip. We were close enough for my daughter to be confused and scared and ask, "Why does he hate us? He doesn’t even know us.”

What struck me was that this man looked at us, but he failed to see us. He failed to see a mama and her baby girl, standing outside on a sunny day. He saw our Liberty Barn, but he failed to understand its message. The signs on our barn say "Hate Has No Home Here," "Hate Cannot Drive out Hate, Only Love Can Do That," "No Matter Where You’re From, We Are Glad You're Our Neighbor," "Black Lives Matter," and, yes, "Biden Harris." Our signs don’t disparage anyone. Our signs are designed to lift people up, everyone.

But he failed to see that, and I think that's the problem today. The not seeing. The not listening. The assigned sides. The assigned anger.

Enough.

I let my feelings simmer for a few days, and two trains of thought kept emerging. First is this idea of not listening and not seeing. The kids and I recently read "To Kill a Mockingbird.” When we finished, I asked them what they learned, and they all agreed that Atticus's last words were the most profound. He tells Scout that most people are good, "when we finally see them." His comment encompasses race, class, and mental health - all the ways society seeks to divide us. Atticus understood that when we stop seeing ideas of people and start seeing the whole individual, we find common ground; we cultivate love and peace.

But that's the next thing, the ideas, the labels, they’re branding us, and they’re blinding us. I don’t give Donald Trump credit for much, but he is an expert at branding. He erases humanity and replaces it with a label. The result? He makes hate easy. We stop seeing each other and start seeing ideas of each other. We don’t listen to each other’s stories or imagine ourselves in each other’s realities. Instead, we assume we know because of the brand that’s been assigned.

To that fella in the black and yellow Dodge Charger, Anna and I represent a threat. He's been told to hate us, and to fear us. Why? Because our very existence endangers his station in our country's historical hierarchy of power. While he won't be able to rationalize through it (which is why Trump's branding works so well. There's no thought required. He sees us - perceived liberals - and hate is the conditioned reaction), the truth is that equity terrifies him because in an equitable society he'd be forced to evolve into a better human being in order to succeed. That's too much for him, and so, he saw us and he spit.

In the moment, I was stunned. Too shocked to react. Then, I swallowed an impulse to hurl an insult in response. Now, I try to imagine him. Is he a father? Is he worried about his children's future? Does he love to be outdoors like me? Does he love dogs? Where would we find connections? Because there's bound to be some. And maybe if I saw him as a human, he'd find it a little easier to see me. And then maybe, everyone else. And suddenly those signs of mine won't seem so upsetting at all...

Because the Liberty Barn is all about love.