My Abortion Story

*TW: Sexual assault, domestic abuse, pregnancy, abortion

I’ve struggled to write this blog for years. Little blurbs that I want to make sure are included are sloppily typed in the Notes app, scribbled on scratch paper littering my office, and spoken into voice memos from random days. For so long, I didn’t know how to turn some of the worst moments of my life into something that would actually benefit someone. All the emotions and thoughts bouncing around my head were difficult to streamline into anything productive.

I have struggled with the implications putting this on the internet might have on me, my relationships, or my future. To not share my story, however, would mean that I wasn’t fully getting all the purpose from my pain. Today, on a day that sets our country back 50+ years, the words seem to sew themselves together pretty easily. It’s actually been somewhat easy to type the words I’ve been struggling with for so long: I had an abortion.

Setting Some Things Straight

Here on the blog, I share a lot of things that someone else might consider a “skeleton in the closet.” From the gruesome details of chronic pain to the lowest of my mental health lows, I have never felt ashamed in being honest about where I’ve come from. This is not an exception to that.

It has been a long time coming, but The Supreme Court’s direct attack on women’s rights makes this essential now. The face of abortion is not a bunch of high-school aged girls using it as a form of birth control or women making the “selfish” choice to live without the stress of a child. It’s mothers who are experiencing liver failure and risking her life. There’s women of all ages who simply cannot afford to have a baby or give a child any sort of quality life. It’s young girls and women that are victims of sexual abuse.

There’s wealthy women, incarcerated women, victims, unemployed women, wives, daughters, sick women, and so many more of us in between. One of the only things that we have in common is that we had to make decision that no one wants to make and now, we have to be synonymous with murderers because of it.

My Abortion Story

The Background

There’s a long, long story leading up to my abortion. Some of the details, however, aren’t helpful toward the goal of this blog. They’re wounds that I’ve exhaustively talked about with therapists and medical professionals on more than one occasion, but that have started to heal. So, I’ll give you the details that are important to the story while still guarding my heart a little.

The foundational information to this story is this: I got pregnant at 20 years old with an ex. The promise of “getting back together” left me really naive to the problems that we’d broken up over in the first place.  I was still blind to all the instances of narcissistic abuse within my relationship. I’ve spoken about my experience with a partner displaying narcissistic tendencies, but I’ll never be able to really describe the day in and day outs of those days.

I saw what so many people beg to see, but felt nothing but pain, confusion, and darkness. One day, I will share this amazing, happy moment with a partner who’s equally as happy, rather than one that tells you all the reasons you can’t do it.

To say that I was innocent wouldn’t be truthful. As I’ve said before, I acted horrible in moments of hurt and pain. There were absolutely moments where I was adding toxicity to an already volatile relationship. And, as people are quick to point out, I do know what a consequence of sex is. Just as I answered when seeking an abortion, I was not convinced, blackmailed, or coerced into my decision. I would still make the same decision over again today if 50 years of women’s rights weren’t just stripped from me, that is.

The Reason

I don’t feel I need to give anyone a reason as to why I didn’t want to have a child at 20 years old. I definitely don’t feel like I have to prove instances of abuse within my relationship to be validated in that difficult choice. It was my body, my life, and my future that were affected in that moment.

Coming to the decision that I would choose abortion was the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. It was harder than dealing with the endometriosis pain since I started my period, losing 11 pounds because I couldn’t keep anything down while pregnant, or even having the actual abortion.

Obviously, there are so many horrible moments that lead up to this decision. I don’t want to give those moments life with a blog. The reason for my abortion doesn’t matter; sharing my story and putting a different face to something so stigmatized does. I’m sharing my story in hopes that it finds a woman that needs it. I just really hope that she knows that she doesn’t need a “good reason” to make a decision about her own uterus.

The Abortion: First Appointment

My first trip to the clinic was traumatic. My partner was not able to be there for some reason or another. So, my mom held my hand and soothed me as I walked into an appointment that would change my life.

Planned Parenthood of Wisconsin literally saved my life. They were paramount in getting me safe care, even though they were restricted by our state’s laws. They also helped me to get another form of birth control that has worked for me for years.

People approached our car and yelled to me about “all the other options”. There were other options, but none that would work for me. My decision had been made. Throughout the first appointment, the staff always had disclaimers about what they were able to do and say per Wisconsin State Law. They were obligated to use the word “baby” and made sure that I saw the ultrasound. That staff was forced by State Law to make this as unappealing as possible in hopes that the gravity of the decision would change my mind.

That gravity had been weighing on me since my first pregnancy test. The weight of which was making me very physically ill. I was anemic, dehydrated, and losing weight rapidly. The doctor prescribed some anti nausea medicine so that I could actually get my body some nutrients.  Then, I was sent home. Wisconsin had a 48-hour minimum waiting period between the initial appointment and procedure. I think it was in hopes that I would change my mind. I didn’t. Don’t worry though, I could have immediately gotten a gun if I wanted it.

The Abortion: Second Appointment

My partner begrudgingly agreed to attend the actual procedure with me. Looking back, one of my parents would have been a better option as you can only have one guest. He had somewhere to be (which I later found out was someone to see) and let me know before we walked in. “This needs to be done by one. I have class,” he had said.

Because of my anxiety and depression, the clinic-appointment counselor had suggested the suction abortion method. It was one where ending my pregnancy was completely done by a doctor that day. No pills that my anxiety would probably cause me to throw up.

I was given 600 mg of ibuprofen and something to avoid infection as preparation. As I laid there, I gripped the hand of a stranger. No guests were allowed in treatment rooms or the recovery area. She asked me about shows I was watching on Netflix. It was a stupid conversation, but it kept the focus off the pain. I watched as the bedpan was taken away and only half listened as the doctor described what she had done to my body. My life had just completely changed in the presence of two strangers. It was overwhelming to say the least.

The recovery room was lonely, sterile, and distant. No guests are allowed to hold your hand or decompress with you per Wisconsin State Law. You spend the first moments after a terrible moment of your life with a juice, thick maxi-pad, and microwavable heating pad.

The Aftermath

My recovery was uncomfortable to say the very least. As someone that was very much struggling in my journey with endometriosis (another reason that motivated my abortion decision), my recovery was unique. When professionally done, the rate of complications only hover at about 1%. I was given a lot of grace from my family, friends, and workplace to recover at my own pace – a privilege very few women who seek abortions have.

My ex and I went no contact a year later after a particularly heated argument. From then on, my abortion has never been used against me. His exit from my life and an extensive therapy schedule was the start of my mental recovery.  The days that I thought about it started to get fewer. Tears shed less frequently and in smaller waves. As with most past traumas, there are days that are harder than others. There is a lot more guarding of my heart now. Today, however, there are long periods of time where it won’t cross my mind even once.

I’m easily able to say that I made the right call. If I had to go back, I’d do it again. My story was just that: MY story. The more that I dealt with the recovery and trauma, I was able to truly understand that it had nothing to do with anyone else. On that day, I made the absolute best decision for me, my future, my mental health, my finances, my physical health, and my life for the ONLY person that would have to live through it all…me.

What Hitting Post Means

As I type this, I’m not sure what will come of hitting Post. I’m not sure what relationships in my life will change or how differently people will think of me. It could lose followers or supporters of my business. At the end of the day, though, I’ve felt my emotions about this skeleton. I’ve cried, screamed, and said worse things to myself than any stranger on the internet can say.

I’ve realized that hitting the Post button will not change my value to those that matter in my life. Hitting Post is something that I’ve felt I needed to do for so long. Now, more than ever, as our country steps into the scariest parts of our past. You are not alone and I will not stop fighting for us.

My Abortion in Perspective

My abortion story is one of so much privilege. I was able to seek safe abortion care in a clean facility. Nearly, 45% percent of women already have unsafe abortions due to lack of access. I had a support system for my mental and physical recovery. In the grand scheme, however, maternal deaths are increasing as the stigma of abortion care changes legislation. Overturning Roe vs. Wade is a direct attack on millions of women. They are women with so many different contexts and needs.

Restricting access to abortion care isn’t about protecting the lives of the unborn. The “Pro-Life” movement never cared about my life or the lives of women who are currently in my position. It’s about having power and control over lives that we then aren’t responsible for living. After all, Pro-Life certainly doesn’t mean pro-women lives or pro-quality of life. 

I’m furious. I hope you are too. If you or someone you know can relate to this in some way, reach out. I am one of millions of people in this country that are by your side. Connect with me at any of the socials below. Fight with me here:

Why I Wear My Mask

** This post may contain affiliate links, which means I may receive a small commission, at no cost to you, if you make a purchase through one of the links! **

I live in a place where not everyone is sold on masks. It’s not like New York City where people want to wear masks because nearly everyone has either had this virus or seen a loved one have it. I live in Wisconsin where open farmland stretches between every big city. There’s a lot more space and less people so the case numbers don’t look so bad on paper. You’d think that it would only push people to wear masks in the bigger cities…nope. I guess I never really had to think about why I wear my mask.

People DON’T Wear Masks?

I’m not going to trash Wisconsin too much in this post. There’s too many die-hard Badgers on all of my social media feeds. Also, it’s still the place that I call home. Milwaukee and Madison make up a huge percentage of the State’s population which tend to be very liberal parts of the state. Smaller counties tend to be more conservative with far less people. There’s obvious outliers like cities with big universities or one’s that are closer to the Illinois border, but you generally see those liberal vs. conservative trends throughout the state. Living in two fairly liberal counties for all my life, I always thought that Wisconsin was split. Then, I started to go up north.

After we all took COVID tests, self-quarantined, and bought enough hand sanitizer to fill a bathtub, my friends and I went to an AirBNB in Somerset, Wisconsin. It’s a tiny little town near the Minnesota border. I would definitely consider it “up north” even if my friends would laugh at me. 

The most outrageous P. Diddy party that you’ve ever seen. We know. But, we got swabs up our nose for this so cut us some slack.

While I’ve been buying disposable masks for my car and researching where to buy good hand sanitizer, I would bet money that half the residents of these small towns didn’t even think to buy one yet. In small town Wisconsin, the threat of a pandemic truly hadn’t brought stress to their everyday lives – not because they couldn’t see it on their TV or weren’t worried about their families, but because they hadn’t necessarily seen it with their own eyes yet.

Why DO We Wear Masks?

As humans, empathy can be hard. We have to watch our role models care about things that might not directly be affecting them. We feel sad when mommy cries even if we have no idea what’s going on. As we grow up, we’re really angry that our friend got bullied on the playground, even if it wasn’t us. We learn that the actions toward others and of others can affect us. Enter global pandemic and perfect opportunity for us to show our empathetic sides!

My sweet friends, Megan and Nathan, have put masks on their children since March. Their kids are a whopping 2 years old and 3 years old (he would tell you he’s about to be 4 and he wants an ankylosaurus for his birthday). They know that taking their children into public places, like a quick Target run, does not guarantee anyone in their house safety. They know that the little piece of fabric covering their child’s face doesn’t protect against everything. They’ve taught their children, however, that masks are what superheroes wear to keep everyone else safe.

Photo credit: Nicodemas Nimmo

They know that they have to wear their masks to keep others safe. So, those little babes and my sweet friends teaching them empathy are why I wear my mask. Because if toddlers can wear masks for a grocery run to keep other people safe, my grown 23-year old ass can.

I Wear My Mask Because…

I wear my mask to keep people like my grandma safe. That little lady has spent the better part of 5 months in her house with only a couple adventures to the outside world. As someone who is extremely high risk, my grandma and other people’s grandparents are braving it to get their errands done. I wear my mask to do whatever possible to keep them safe!

I wear my mask for my amazing hair dresser. I’ve been seeing her for years. Even if I wasn’t picketing with signs about it, my roots were looking pretty rough in quarantine. I’ve done enough hair treatments to sing “Beauty School Dropout” as my theme song. Truthfully, I will be adding those Shea moisture products (here are the ones I use) as a source of amazing self care long after COVID, but a girl needs some stylist attention too! Her business and clients are a livelihood that she depends on for financial security and her own sanity. I wear my mask to keep her safe so that she can snuggle her grandkids on the days she has off. If I want to enjoy the luxury that is going to get my hair done, I can prioritize health in that process.

I wear a mask for my immunocompromised friends who’ve already had a hard go at life. I’ve watched some take their blood sugar before we go out and give themselves insulin. Some have lost a ton of muscle mass just trying to figure out what they could eat. Others can’t even go a week without having a fever. I wear a mask for my friends with asthma, allergies, and colds. Those who normally feel fine but wouldn’t be okay I exposed them to something.

I Wear My Mask Because I’m a Superhero

At the end of the day, I wear a mask for me. I wear a mask because it sends the message that I want to send out into the world. It says that I care about others – that I’m empathetic to their health, well-being, and lives. It shows that I will do what’s in my power to end this weird period of pandemic. I wear a mask to set an example that it’s the “cool” thing to do even though I’m surprised it’s a discussion. I wear a mask because I’m a superhero and they always help others.

Why do you wear YOUR mask? Tell me using the links to any of the socials below! I want to hear your story!

Review of ‘Knock Down the House’

If you can’t tell by anywhere else on this website, I’m SO into a boss bitch and story of a come up. My brother, Sullivan, and I recently sat down to watch “Knock Down the House” on Netflix. You need to watch this documentary.

It’s the story of four women and their fight for seats in Congress. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez who ran for New York’s 14th Congressional District which includes Queens and the Bronx – areas full of working class voters and minorities. Amy Vilela who ran for Nevada’s 4th Congressional District on a campaign that targeted the lack of affordable health care for workers in her community. Cori Bush, a candidate from Missouri’s 1st District, took on Lacy Cook a powerful Democratic incumbent. Last, but certainly not least, the documentary covers the race of Paula Jean Swearengin for a United States Senate seat representing West Virginia.

I’ve been on Twitter for about a decade. I read a lot of political articles and listen to all of the podcasts. I would love to say that I’m not biased, but I do seek out information and media outlets that report on those that I favor in primary, Congressional, and Presidential election. With a Bachelor’s in Political Science, I definitely walk around thinking that I know more than the average American. However, “Knock Down the House” made me reconsider everything I knew about politics.

We’re so used to political campaigns being these huge movements that we see on TV. We’re used to donations of millions of dollars being the foundation to getting anything we want. Usually, those that have that kind of money are corporations or lobbyists that don’t have the collective good in mind. Rather, it’s oil companies shelling out big bucks for votes in favor of fracking or against climate change.

About these political powerhouses

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is known for getting criticism from coming from a life of serving and bartending to politics. However, the documentary shows just how much work goes into a grassroots campaign. While she’s not a millionaire and can’t quit her job, she must work even harder than others around the clock on campaign work.

Amy Vilela, a strong woman running in Nevada, does so to honor her daughter. Because the family lacked adequate health insurance, her daughter wasn’t able to get a necessary test that could have saved her life. Throughout the documentary, Amy runs on the stance that Americans should not have to misunderstand insurance, go in debt to afford insurance, or worry about the death of a family member so that someone in Corporate America can get rich.

Cori Bush takes on incumbent, Lacy Cook, whose family has served Missouri’s first district for many years. Though Cook is also a Democrat, Cori Bush hopes to amplify the voices of those who have gone unheard. Missouri’s 1st District is where Michael Brown, an 18-year old black citizen, was shot by a police officer. Political unrest after the shooting was watched by the entire world from its epicenter in Fergusson, MO. Cori Bush wants people to realize that being a Democrat doesn’t always mean that they’re fighting for the community. She wants to see serious change.

Lastly, Paula Jean Swearengin runs against a longstanding incumbent for one of West Virginia’s Senate seats. West Virginia continues to be torn apart by the government for coal and other natural resources. “If another country was doing this, we’d go to war,” she says about the destruction of mountains that are releasing toxins into the air and water. West Virginia has a high rate of cancers due to the exposure to these elements which are making the citizens die young. As someone who watched her father die too young of cancer, Paula Jean Swearengin uses passion and anger to try and change the tides.

My reaction

I was excited to watch “Knock Down the House” in general. Like I said, I love a strong woman and the story of an underdog. However, I was surprised by how moved I was at the conclusion of the film. I spent all of my higher education studying policies and campaigns that are shown in this documentary. These women break the barriers for what is expected in politics. Like most other parts of life, money speaks when it comes to voting and campaigning. These women aren’t worried about money, fame, or later reelection. They’re worried about the people within their communities.

I took this at a political rally when I was feeling a fire about politics. Look out, guys, it’s back.

This documentary reminded me what I believed politics to be before I studied a bunch of textbooks. It reminded me that people who want who see injustice and want to do good are always out there. Hope now surges through my muscles in a system I had given up on. It made me proud that behind every ambition to change the world is thousands of hours of work, people who support, and vote. Watching this documentary made me feel like I mattered in the world of politics.

If you haven’t watched this documentary yet, watch it. If you don’t have a Netflix account, get one just to watch this. It will change how you view the world of politics. “Knock Down the House” will be the light at the end of your political tunnel.

Have you watched this documentary? What did you think? Connect with me through any of the social media links below – let’s talk about it!

I Don’t Decide If I’m an Ally

There are very few times in my life where I’ve felt a loss for words. I’m full of them. Some of those words come to the surface automatically and make my mom blush. Others are thoughtful and well-rehearsed. I’d like to think I have more of the latter.

Recently though, I  cannot find the words to say. Unless my grandma comes over and starts spouting off lines she’s heard on Fox News, I don’t  know where to start. In my heart, I know where my morals lie. I know which Facebook posts from distant family members make me say “Wow, that’s blatant racism,” under my breath while some Twitter videos make me so prideful to be part of this generation of change. In my head, I know that any black person has a place at my table, in my home, and ALWAYS in the nation I want to be a part of. For so long, I thought that the absence of hate made me an ally, but I don’t get to choose if I’m an ally to the black community. It’s up to them.

Photo credit: Hunter Hanthorn (Milwaukee, WI)

I recently wrote a blog post about my white privilege. It’s centered around the fact that I don’t walk around this world aware of my skin tone. The lack of awareness is a privilege in itself. I acknowledge that I will never know the full capabilities of my privilege because that would be fully understanding the experience of those who are oppressed. I can empathize but I will never truly know what it’s like to have to be aware of the color of your skin at all times.

I chose Political Science as one of my majors because I saw how many men were in the program. My ego definitely played a big part in the decision. I’ve been ready to argue about politics for most of my life. In feeling so “woke,” for lack of a better term, there were times when I thought I was the best ally that I could possibly be. Because I spoke up in my lectures against hate, I pat myself on the back for supporting the movement. Because I retweeted something, I snubbed my nose at those who weren’t educated on politics around the world. Because I had been to a protest or two, it wasn’t my job to keep showing up. Yet, I still thought of myself as doing everything that I possibly could to show that I cared.

In all honesty, I was doing more than most. However, when some people are doing nothing, doing the bare minimum is nothing to feel proud about. More importantly, it wasn’t my stubborn ass that needed to be heard in those lecture halls. It was the black students. It was their experience that I needed to learn from before I spoke.  By encouraging their voices, I could have asked questions and found a path that better suited my allyship. Maybe then, I would have realized that it’s not my place to announce to the world “I AM AN ALLY!”

I don’t want to make this confusing. Announce to the world that you are open-minded, full of love, and tolerant as much as humanly possible. Make it known that you are trying to do better and learn more, but don’t take this time to boost your own ego in being the “performative ally” that no one needs right now. It’s not black people’s responsibility to teach you, however, they have the right to decide if you are an ally to the Black Lives Matter movement or not.

Photo credit: Hunter Hanthorn (Milwaukee, WI)

The movement has done an amazing job in providing resources to donate to, petitions to sign, and events to attend that allow you to be the kind ally that they are looking for. It allows you to be a part of the movement without taking the microphone from the community that has gone unheard. It’s our job to LISTEN. It’s our job to LEARN. It’s our job to CHANGE.

That being said, there are some amazing ways that you can support that don’t always include joining the ranks on the street. Protests are SO important, but so is funding, supplies, and political advocacy all of which you can do from your  couch. There really is no excuse for not getting involved.

Here are some amazing resources that I found (sponsored by the official Black Lives Matter website) if you want to be a better ally:

  • Donate to Black Lives Matter today!
  • Sign the #DefundthePolice petition here to speak out against racism in incarceration!
  • Contribute to the GoFundMe of Brandon Saenz who lost his eye due to rubber bullets shot into peaceful protestors by police in Dallas, TX
  • Start reading about race in this country as it’s presented through the eyes of black authors
  • Call the Louisville Mayor at 844-298-2731 and demand justice for Breonna Taylor who was killed after a no knock warrant was served on the incorrect house. Demand that the officers involved be charged and fired!
  • Sign the Justice For Breonna Taylor petition that’s almost 6 million strong!!

I have done all of these things from under my comforter in my bed. Chapters of Black Lives Matter in your area can be found through their website (most of which will accept Venmo!) if you’d like to see your money going directly to protestors in your community. If you’re uncomfortable being in the thick of it, donate. If you don’t have the means to donate, call, sign, or post. You know what’s best for you. But know that sometimes, doing what’s right isn’t always the easiest path to take. You might get push back. You might feel a little helpless and you might feel overwhelmed, but it’s a big part of learning as you go. 

No, you don’t get to decide if you’re the best ally. You don’t get to receive a Political Science degree and debate some close minded kid in class and think that your work is done. As white people, there’s SO much this movement can help us learn about ourselves, our community, and the fractures within our system that we might have been blind to. You might not get to decide if you can be labeled an “ally” for the cause, but what you can decide to do is learn, grow, accept that your allyship might be off course, and just listen to those around you.

Special thanks to Hunter Hanthorn for these photos from the Milwaukee protests! Like I said, I want to learn & grow to be whatever this movement needs me to be! If you have resources that should be added to this list, please contact me at any of the socials below!

Edited by Vanessa Reza. Contact info can be found on the ‘Contact Me’ page.

Checking My White Privilege

The fact that I’m even writing a blog like this hurts my whole heart. The fact that I’m preparing for it to be met with some hate on my Facebook or Twitter feed makes me lose all hope. For those of you who this blog does not find well, I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry that you’ve chosen to close your eyes and mouth to the clear lines drawn in the sand. I’m not sorry that you’ve chosen to act like your privilege was something you “earned” rather than something you were genetically encoded with when you came into the world with white skin. If this finds you poorly and you want to spit some fire back, go for it. But, I’m not going to be silent about this & passively sit back. 

I’m tired of us killing each other. I’m so tired of us using fear of what we don’t know or refuse to understand as a reason to shoot at, choke, or murder each other in cold blood. And honestly, saying “each other” is doing a disservice. I’m tired of us killing people because they have black skin. It sends a shiver down my spine that we refer to this as “brutality” when it’s only one thing; murder.

Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you about the experience of a person of color. First, because I can’t even begin to understand that experience; thus, write about it. Second, there are millions of more important narratives you should be reading if you want to truly understand the experience of a person of color. What I am going to do, though, is check my privilege.

Truthfully, there’s never going to be a time when I fully understand my privilege. I try my best to be aware most of the time of my circumstances, but I, like many others, don’t have to walk through life thinking about the color of my skin. I was born into this world with white skin which gives me an unbelievable amount of privilege, that I can acknowledge. But, I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand my privilege, purely because I won’t ever understand the experience of not having it. Does that make sense? Not everyone gets to walk around and not think about the color of their skin all the time like I do. Not everyone gets to walk out of the house worrying only about if your outfit makes you look chubby, rather than drawing implication on who I am as a person. The experience of a person of color is one that I will never have, be able to speak on, or claim to know.

I recently shared a post on Facebook that really made me consider all the things I have the privilege of doing without thinking twice. 

Some of these stuck with me more than others, of course. My younger brother and I have been sitting in our home for 2 months. We’ve never been scared for our lives. Even if a police officer knocked on our door, we wouldn’t be scared of THEM. We’d be scared of the information that they would calmly give us. 

I mean, I’m a blonde, white girl. When I’m in the gas station, I worry about men yelling inappropriate things at me rather than calling the police because they just assume I am shoplifting. When I tell people I’m a first generation college student, they’re genuinely surprised. It’s as if my pale skin indicates that my parents are ultimately together, rich, and successful. However, with my black classmates, struggle has always just been assumed and thus placed upon them. Even if you’re NOT struggling with family or money or foundational stressors, the constant assumption that you are can lead you to a pretty angry and lonely lifestyle. Not to mention that the lack of confidence that the world seems to have that you’re tasked to disprove is like a ladder that just keeps getting taller. 

The REALLY fucked up thing is that these notions are placed upon us before we speak or act. Purely by looking at me, I appear “safer” than women of color. To police in this country, it’s been made obvious that my life is worth more. But, why?

The obvious answer is inherent racism set on us due to years and years of oppression. Institutions that came from trying to punish slaves and maintain Jim Crow laws, such as the modern police force, are still in place – just as the War on Drugs has been unfairly prosecuting people of color since its creation. Reforming institutions that are so clearly based on the foundation of racism is not possible. New and improved models are needed in the 21st century after years of technological, scientific, and academic advances.

I don’t hate police officers. However, I’m not going to sit here and say, “There are a few bad apples just like in everything.” That is diminishing these events. If good officers passively stand by and watch their partners or fellow officers commit murder, they might as well hold the civilian down. If the department puts those officers on “paid leave” until giving them a slap on the wrist, that’s condoning murder in their precinct. Maybe that’s an unpopular opinion. Maybe this paragraph is going to be the one that ruffles the feathers. But, feeling nothing, saying nothing, and DOING NOTHING makes you an instigator, whether you want to be or not. Holding criminal justice as we know it, officers who joined for the right and the wrong reasons, accountable for these actions are the only way that change occurs. 

Photo credit:

Truthfully, white people don’t have to worry about protesting… we saw that in the peak of the pandemic. thousands of Americans screamed in the faces of police officers because they felt their Constitutional rights were being infringed when asked to wear a mask. Some were armed, but of course, that is within their Second Amendment right. Oh, and they were white. But, people of color and their active allies take to the streets to protest the blatant murder and they’re called “rioters” rather than protestors. Their right to peacefully assemble, which is covered by the Constitution, is almost always interrupted with tear gas, violence, or more death. 

And you know what, I don’t have to worry about it. I had another blog that could have gone up. I could turn my head and keep going without saying a word. The privilege that I was born with could carry me through this life. OR, I could say something. I could join in on the conversations, not just for the clout of saying something, but for more information from the black community in how to be the best ally. I can be an active part of the protests. I can write to my representatives because their bias to listen to my voice coming from my skin tone can be seen so clearly sometimes. I can check my white privilege every day and then check it again. So, what can you do?

Let’s talk about this. If you have a way to get involved, donate, or advocate, please get into my DMs and let me know! For anyone that reads this post, or any post in the future, you are so welcome here. I am proud of you. You are worthy. I will not stop advocating for OUR freedoms.

My Take: March for Life

I know that not all my followers are going to agree with me here. I know that not even all my friends agree with me. It’s controversial – I’m not really sure why sexuality or reproductive rights fall under that hush-hush category, but here we are.

My hot take: Abortion is health care.

Listen, I’m so for collective, social action. The people that are in office are working FOR us. Our votes got them into their seats and their votes should therefore reflect those Americans. I’m gonna say it, though, I think March for Life is grasping.

I read a lot of news through the explore page on Twitter. It pissed me off to see captions that read “We are the generation for life.” I think that you’d have to be a literal psychopath to not want happy, healthy life for Americans.

Before we move forward, I should just make sure that I say that I consider myself VERY much pro-choice. I absolutely don’t want more women to get abortions because the circumstances that lead them to make that decision are just awful. So, fighting for that right does not mean that I want more women to do it. What it means, is that the choices about my body, my future, and whether or not I’m ready for a family will be made by me. At risk of sounding a little cold, Karen from Montana’s choices about reproduction do not affect me at all….. so who the fuck am I to stop her from doing what she feels is right? So, pro-choice is just that. If abortion goes against your morals or your religion, don’t get one. If you know in your bones that it’s the right decision to make based on the circumstances that got you there, you should have that right.

March for Life isn’t even about life, though. I mean, that’s a generalization, but if you talk to anyone that is fiercely “pro-life” they’ll start arguing that there are other options. “You’re old enough to have sex, you should be old enough to deal with the consequences.” and “What about the adoption?” Those would be really valid arguments, if any government money was then being allocated to social programs to help children in need or the foster care system? You can’t force women to have children when they would have chosen abortion and call that a “solution”, when the problem is that the needs of the child can’t be met for the next 18 years.

So, “pro-life” shouldn’t even be what that side is called. It’s pro-birth. You don’t want increase tax money that can go to resources to help these mothers in need. You don’t give a fuck that the foster system is one of the most broken institutions in our country. You want a woman to carry a sack of cells to full term just for the purpose of birth. I will add, the woman’s life is also a life, right? Or, does it only count as a life when it’s in someone’s uterus? If you’re going to state that you’re fighting for life, it’s gotta be for all lives involved!

I will clarify for some people who are ready to tear me apart in a comment or tweet. A) This is my singular opinion. It’s a personal blog. Chill. B) Of course, life has context that should be considered! Like do I think that they should allow a woman to get an abortion at 39 weeks pregnant? No. Like all rights and freedoms that we have in this country, there is reasonable and rational guidelines. For example, you have all the free speech you want until you start saying racial slurs in a mall, then your ass is going to jail.

The most important decorations at the bar! Planned Parenthood has a ton of cool mass mobilization initiatives & ways to get involved @PPact on Twitter!

I’m not even going to get into the broken record that is “What about women who are raped or victims of incest?” In my mind, all reasonable people are empathetic enough to understand that a woman should not be forced into motherhood as she was forced into a sexual encounter. So, I’m not even going to use that argument to backup my argument.

What I will say, is that 77% of Americans do NOT want to overturn Roe v. Wade, according to NPR and PBSNews. That’s a pretty hefty majority. So yes, there are thousands of people at this march – but there have been millions of people who’ve marched for women’s rights since the 1920s’. Honestly, I know that I’m on the right side of history here, but there was, at one point, a group of people that thought women voting was morally wrong as well. That is definitely comparing apples to oranges, but historical context – wins and losses from both sides – are so important in making these policy changes.

Overturning Roe v. Wade might make you sleep better at night or that a group is a bunch of murderers. It doesn’t stop abortions though. It opens the flood gates of unsafe, unclean, or at-home abortions that woman will see as a last resort. Which puts the life of the mother in danger and still terminates a pregnancy like this movement doesn’t want? I guess, I’m just confused…

If you don’t believe in abortions, don’t get one. If you think that pre-marital sex is a sin, don’t have it. If you believe that a sack of cells is considered a baby, more fucking power to you. But, just no one should be forced to get an abortion by their government, no one should be forced to be a mother either.