So I decided to begin Lent with penitence, which is to say I read a few articles from the fauxminist blog Jezebel.
Okay, you know how much I hate abortion? Well, multiply that by three, and that’s how much blogger Erin Gloria Ryan loves abortion. In the opening paragraph of a recent post, “What’s the Best Age to Have an Abortion?,” she begins by bragging about how many women she knows who’ve had abortions, even referring to her address book as “Murderer’s Row.” Hilarious!
According to Ryan, women come to her to talk about having abortions because they know she won’t tell them they’re going to hell. She jokes that they’re going to hell for other things, such as wearing “conflict diamonds.”
Remember, please, this is a fauxminist we’re talking about, which is to say a social leftist. These are the same people who support abortion but think you should be charged with a crime if you don’t spent at least an hour a week sobbing openly about animal cruelty, climate change, or “conflict diamonds.”
Ryan then goes on to compare the pros and cons of aborting at different ages. She begins with “Under 18.” Among the pros: “[T]eenagers aren’t … equipped to be mothers.” She points to examples of why this is true, so I assume that these are people she believes to be bad mothers. She names Bristol Palin and “Justin Bieber’s weird mom.”
At no point does she mention that teenagers shouldn’t have sex. She wouldn’t dare entertain the notion that maybe the fact that teenagers aren’t prepared to be parents – a premise I agree with, although many teenagers, with support and love, have become terrific moms – means that teenagers shouldn’t be engaging in baby-making activities.
So what, pray tell, are the cons of abortion under eighteen? “Expense, awkwardness, access.”
Not the horrible, gut-wrenching, soul-maiming experience of going through an abortion, and all that entails, not the least of which is the eventual, inevitable understanding that you paid someone to kill your baby.
No, these aren’t problems for the teen seeking abortion. Not as Ryan sees it. Scraping up the cash, having the “awkward” conversation with your parents, and getting thee hence to a clinic: those are the cons.
She goes on, dissecting the ups and downs of aborting at different ages. In “24-27,” under “Cons,” Ryan points out that you might have met a special guy by then, and “it’s more emotional to abort when you know the guy’s last name.” This is almost a hint that she recognizes that abortion kills a baby. Because why else would it be more emotional? Because you’re attached to this man, because sex has an emotional and spiritual component, and because abortion will kill the human life you created together? She obviously isn’t going into any of that.
Finally, she comes to the conclusion that the “best” age to have an abortion is 25, and invites commenters to “hash out” their disagreements below.
This is…this is just so weird to me. An abortion isn’t Lasik surgery or a breast reduction. An abortion, according to most fauxminists, is something you approach with gravity, a serious decision, a last resort. Ryan represents the new glibness, something I’m seeing more of. More and more fauxminists and anti-lifers are admitting that it’s a life, and they just don’t care. They joke about abortion. They want you to know they are not sorry.
Ryan is at least trying to be honest, I think. In her sicko worldview, abortion really is no big deal. At least, it’s not supposed to be. I wonder how many of her friends have climbed up onto an exam table in an abortion clinic, hearing the pounding of her heart, reminding herself that it’s no big deal, this is empowering, this is my body, it’s no big deal.
I’ve met women who told me they don’t regret their abortions. Some of them, if I’m able to engage them in a conversation over time, eventually admit that they do regret it. Some of them are even deeply hurt, and deeply ashamed of that hurt. After all, it’s no big deal. Right?
So, anyway, 25 is the best age to have an abortion. Start saving now, so you’ll be ready, okay? You don’t want to miss the empowering, earth-mother-goddess rite of passage that is abortion. It’s like the fauxminist quinciañera. Aphrodite, Freya, and Isis appear to you as you eat crackers and drink juice in the recovery room, and they whisper to you of ancient vaginal mysteries as your baby is disposed of as medical waste.
Too bad I’m past my prime abortion time. I guess I really missed out on something special. I guess I’ll just have to settle for, I don’t know, childbirth. Maybe that’ll be sorta-kinda life-altering.