Posts Tagged ‘choice’

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Sunday, April 30th, 2023

One thing I have observed in the aftermath of the repeal of Roe v. Wade that I did not expect to see is that I constantly see women who choose to not have children judge women who do so. Just today my good ol’ TikTok feed supplied me a video about the phenomenon of microchimerism, where fetal stem cells can migrate to the mother’s brain. The science is fascinating and strangely beautiful, and it is a very complex phenomenon still being researched, with its assorted ups and downs. But I had to venture outside of the video’s context to learn about the intricacies of that science, because all the video and its commenters served to do was cement pregnancy as something horrific and undesirable by skewing the facts of the science at face value. The video as a microcosm pushed the message that pregnancy is subjecting yourself to some undesirable body horror, and the women abstaining from that are somehow more righteous than those who do.

Because going about life the way you see fit is obviously a constant war of comparison between who is “better” at “sticking it to the man” and being a perfect agent of self indulgence.

I think that, because abortion rights have been so under attack and undermined, these people are associating having children as something one is forced to do. If you have a kid, now it is automatically assumed that you had no control over your decision, as opposed to choosing to use birth control. Even though it is zero business of other people how a family starts or what other people choose to do with their bodies. It is a misguided form of self reassurance where we create hierarchies based on extremely personal choices and judge others accordingly, with our own choices always being at the top of the ladder. We instinctively attack and attempt to undermine what we don’t understand or what makes us feel uncomfortable due to that lack of understanding.

It is also telling that women are being criticized by other women by doing something so strongly associated with feminine gender roles.

But what’s the difference between a woman who decides to have a kid/start a family, and a woman who doesn’t want to do that in her life? Literally nothing. You have no right to judge someone on their life decisions if it is literally harming no one, and you have no right to make assumptions about someone for simply going about a process of life as they see fit. And we should fight for  the right for bodily autonomy in all of its forms, because true choice means permitting all of the options regarding starting or not starting a family. All of them.

She Don’t Hang

Tuesday, July 19th, 2022

A good fourth of my bedroom floorspace is currently taken up by filled bags and storage bins waiting to be loaded into a car and actually get put to use. I’ve got an upgraded laptop arriving at the beginning of August and numerous niche band posters on my eBay watchlist. A pristine double room in one Johnson Hall awaits five hours away. It feels too good to be true.

One month left.

My anticipation towards heading off to Kent has only been rising recently. So is the anxiety. I’m going off to Ohio, and Ohio is a state currently best known for being a place that ten year old girls have to escape from if they want to get abortions after being raped, so I can’t help but feel…weird…about it. Especially when I get to see people literally flat out say not to go to colleges in states that crack down on abortion, which, despite being aimed at the peanut gallery and not me personally, make me paranoid as hell. Ah, the internet.

Back in the protesty heyday of the swinging sixties, Kent State was considered a “liberal oasis” in a cesspool of rednecks that I can’t imagine being not too dissimilar from the cesspool of rednecks I get to experience living where I have my whole life. Pennsylvania? “Liberal”? Really? When a house a few blocks down from me boasts a cutesy cartoon cutout of No. 45 (seriously) and a “Not My President” sign in the front lawn, I think not. When I say that Ohio feels like a home away from home, I mean that in both the best and worst ways possible.

I tried for college in my supposedly libby home state. It didn’t exactly work out. I actually got accepted into a school not very far from my home base that my parents always dreamed for me to attend. It is much more traditionally prestigious than Kent and also happened to support the draft during the Vietnam War (no kidding). Their admitted student day event opened with possibly the most boring, statistics filled PowerPoint slideshow known to man, one that not even the parents should have had to sit through, never mind the kids. I did not retain most of its pie chart-laden glory. But I do remember the main emphasis of the power-dressing young female presenter’s speech on the school’s well-rounded curriculum: that it would help “market” students to future employers. She then went on to highlight all the shiny big name corporations graduates of the school had entered careers at. What a reason to get an education—so that your parents can smile at your hefty paycheck and how charming it is that you work for Google or Disney. Unlike the squeaky clean cardboard cutout of a college kid that exists inside the heads of people like that, I’m not aiming to stay in a certain lane to make the faceless head honchos I’m apparently supposed to be pleasing feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I may please some people as I make my way down the highway of life, but my trip is mine. I would rather not have someone who thinks they know more about my life than I do try to make life-altering decisions for me. Sound familiar?

I could go on about the multitude of reasons why I’ve chosen Kent State, but I’m not in the mood. I don’t feel the need to ‘prove’ my decision to anyone, and I feel comfortable not having that burden. I was granted the ability to take the chance that I wanted to take, and it would be silly to throw it away for something subpar and unfulfilling.

It’s my choice, and I’m sticking to it. Having few freedoms left, I feel strangely proud of that.

Crockfishing

Thursday, July 29th, 2021

If I owned a nickel for every hard choice I’ve had to make, I’d own a bank’s equivalent, and should the rapidly rising pace of their prevalence keeps up, I’d be a millionaire by the time I get my bachelor’s degree. Since everything seems dire and of utmost importance in these modern day end times, I’ve developed a tendency towards perfectionism in my decision making, and it is both grueling and ultimately satisfying.

Every choice forces the possibilities left behind to die, opening the door to more choices. Fish hatch from eggs only to give birth to more when they mature. It’s an endless cycle. Every choice has impact, which not enough seem to realize, and seeing others make horrible decisions, while painful, comes as no surprise at this point. When boostered by a false sense of superiority, you gain lenience and begin to cut strings between you and your fellow men. What you do matters not as long as it benefits your wants, even when others may need the complete opposite.

When others look down at you from the higher rungs of their constructed Social Ladder, on the other hand, methods of survival must be utilized. Situations must be utilized down to the pinprick, and every move must be made like a chess game. Sense must be made in a world gone mad, reaching a point where what others deem as weird becomes common and not repulsive. Case in point: I keep getting this Captain Beefheart song trapped in my head to the point where mentally reciting it’s lyrics—

I’m gonna grow fins
‘N go back in the water again
If ya don’t leave me alone
I’m gonna take up with ah mermaid
‘N leave you land lubbin’ women alone!

—has become a cute ritual in maintaining my sanity. I guess some people’s blues are gill-bearing, and I guess that includes me. Considering how chronically perseverant I am, I always thought I was more like a cockroach. Maybe when my concerns regarding climate-induced end of the world scenarios become reality, I’ll be among them. If only the things I have actual control over were the most of my concerns. But I don’t plan on riding some easy path of acceptance. I can’t let myself succumb to that, and it pains me to see others do so, blowing their potential in the process.

I could choose routes that serve only to dim my bulbs, routes that satisfy others at the expense of what I truly need. Instead, I make myself that fish out of water, searching for the right pool.

And how right it will be.