I decided after the Miley Cyrus debacle that I was disgusted with Robin Thicke. And absolutely couldn’t dance to his song, Blurred Lines, in spite of how fun the beat was. I recall the cultural-disaster-sliding-into-the-sea-as-a-society-morals-are-dead-I-wish-I-was-too moment at the MTV awards–which I didn’t watch. Of course, we were all “treated” to hearing about it afterwards.
Now, people of goodwill no longer have to choose. Weird Al provides a positive messaging version of the same song. Everyone can dance to this one. (I hope this post is grammatically correct.)
Watch this. Sweet. A mom, and I gather a Gold-medal winning gymnast, watches her daughter perform as she comments. (With enthusiasm, shall we say. She’s really living it with her daughter. Which does remind me of my mom, albeit at an entirely different level of sport. If you can call what my sister and I did a “level of sport” at all. Nonetheless, my mom was there, living it, excited. I’d call it a small blessing, except it’s not. It’s a big one, to have supportive parents, these days.)
I love the close physical contact between the mothers and their children. I love the nakedness of the children. I love the warm hugs, that eternally nurturing posture. I love the ordinariness of their affection.
But most of all, I LOVE that these photos were taken in a time before the concept of the Yummy Mommy or the Hot Mama, in a time before the perpetually sexualized woman. These images have a carefreeness about them that betrays today’s misunderstanding of love, of womanhood and of motherhood.
Our democracy has a rich tradition of allowing conscientious objection, be it for pacifists or pro-lifers. Not so, argues Joyce Arthur of the Abortion Rights Coalition. Blogger Pat Maloney explains the issue.
I think I feel an op-ed coming on, about why this issue is not about the Pill or abortion at all, but rather a basic issue of the right to free speech, which stems from free thought, which is at risk of being curtailed here. Achtung: No thinking allowed in dogmatic pro-abortion ranks.
It is called “We Do Abortions Here: A Nurse’s Story.” In it, she calls abortion a “sweet brutality,” and attempts to justify what she sees as a necessary evil:
But when I look in the basin, among the curdlike blood clots, I see an elfin thorax, attenuated, its pencilline ribs all in parallel rows with tiny knobs of spine rounding upwards. A translucent arm and hand swim beside. The girl asks to see it, sitting up. “It’s not allowed,” I told her sternly.
I have fetus dreams, we all do here: dreams of abortions one after the other; of buckets of blood splashed on the walls; trees full of crawling fetuses. I dreamed that two men grabbed me and began to drag me away. ‘Let’s do an abortion,’ they said with a sickening leer, and I began to scream, plunged into a vision of sucking, scraping pain, of being spread and torn by impartial instruments that do only what they are bidden.
A website is being launched this week to allow individuals who have had their babies aborted a chance to acknowledge and grieve their loss, as well as memorialize the unborn child, without guilt or politics.
Located at www.abortionmemorial.com, the website provides a wall where individuals can post thoughts, poems, images or video – whatever they consider a fitting tribute – to honor the life of the child that could have been. Not only for parents who’ve experienced abortion, but grandparents, siblings and extended family and friends are also invited to post in the baby’s honor, acknowledging the loss that they, too, may feel because of the relationship they would have had with the child.
Abortion isn’t just some other medical procedure. It’s the taking of a life.
“What makes you different, makes you beautiful.” Yay. So nice to hear someone say that and mean it. And a billboard at Bay and Bloor!! Wow! A major, busy intersection in downtown Toronto. I hope the bad traffic causes people to sit and ponder it. It looms over a strip of pretty fancy pants shops, with fancy pants people buying expensive stuff.
Given the choice between living my life how I please and having my body within my control and the fate of a lentil-sized, brainless embryo that has half a chance of dying on its own anyway, I choose me….Either way, what she ( a mother) wants trumps the non-existent desires of a mindless pre-person that is so small it can be removed in about two minutes during an outpatient procedure. Your cavities fight harder to stay in place,” says Marcotte.
I am relieved to read that these British MPs are outraged. There is enough outrage to go around on this one. It is particularly applicable in Canada should physicians in Ontario loose their protection of conscience rights. The options will be dictated to them, no matter how barbaric.
But in this UK story, as in Marcotte’s piece, it is the utter failure of these responses to crisis and to fear that also shape a culture. Pure ugliness vs the beauty of compassion. And whether in word or in deed, brutality causes people to seek truth. It is ultimately in their humanity to do so, though some I fear, may have lost part of their humanity.
And so I think there’s something else going on. If you’re a young adult surveying the parental scene, you see harried parents chronically short on cash because hockey costs so much this year. You see them tying themselves in knots because their toddler won’t sleep through the night, their seven-year-old can’t read, or their teenager has gotten into the wrong crowd. It looks like a recipe for an ulcer.
The one thing you can’t see is what’s going on inside those parents. [...]
At one point parenthood was one of the experiences that we all had in common.
We had all gone through labour in some form or another, or stayed up all night with a child with croup, or kissed a boo-boo. Even if language or religion or culture or class separated us, we were all parents. When we lose these shared experiences we lose a shared culture. Parenting is hard work, and it requires more sacrifice today, perhaps, than it did a century ago. But it is still worth it. I know some will always choose to remain childless, and that’s okay. But I hope our country as a whole does not turn its back on parenthood. Babies are our future, and they really are irreplaceable.