Sunday, January 25, 2015

The Pro-Choice Catfish

*Reposted with the fabulous Robin Marty's permission* We give you, the pro-choice catfish....

We've all gotten that email before... well, at least most of us probably have. If you're in any way vocal about your prolife beliefs people start reaching out to you when they (or someone they know) is facing an unplanned pregnancy. And it's awesome. It's an amazing opportunity to put our activism where our mouth is and help them find support and resources.

But then, every once in a while we'll get a troll. You know what I'm talking about... someone who's TOTALLY not pregnant, but they'll pretend they are in an attempt to a) get us to admit that their awful, crazy, completely insane situation is the one permissible exception for abortion, in turn "busting" us for not really being prolife, or b) once they realize we're never going to do that, they just want to waste our time with stupid hypothetical arguments.

And here's the thing, while it's usually pretty obvious that they're trying to reverse Lila Rose us, there's always that .00000001% chance it's legit, so we still go to the ends of the earth to find their headless AIDs baby with Spina Bifida and fetal alcohol syndrome medical care, right?

After a while cray stuff like that takes its toll, and with just enough wine and dark humor added, a video like this is made...

*Also, that's a picture of Robin Marty, a writer for Rolling Stone & Cosmo, who has never (to the best of our knowledge) ever tried to pro-choice catfish us. She'd just started following NWF on twitter and had the look of a women's studies major going on so we decided to borrow her face. Sorry about that RM.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

We interrupt this feminist blog to bring you… a mommy blog.

(*This really has nothing to do with pro-life feminism, but oh well. Two pro-life feminists are in it, so that gets us close enough, right?)
Ross. Short on apostrophes, but they have good deals in spades. For women.
After all, it's our world, ladies.

Dear Older Judgmental Woman at Ross who was judging me so super hard this morning, 

Hi. My name is Destiny, and I totally get it. I would be judging me hard too. Let's look at the facts:

I was sitting on the floor of a Ross while my almost three year old threw the most epic fit I'd ever seen him throw, with tears of laughter running down my face.

What you couldn't see:

The complete horror and frustration in my soul that this was happening and I couldn't do anything about it because I was temporarily peebilitated.

Let me start from the beginning so you'll have some background of how and why we arrived at this point…

This morning Kristen Hatten and I wanted to meet up to do some March for Life shopping, and decided we'd start at TJ Maxx. I had my little one with me and he was being a complete angel, like he normally is. We looked through their pathetically Texasy excuse for winter wear, then K-Hatt turns to me (while gently caressing a cashmere cord sweater) and says, "I don't really think this is my place, we should go to Ross." I asked her if there was just not enough clothing strewn on the floor here and she said, "yeah, that... and no screaming Mexican babies." I offered to pinch my Mexican baby if it would make her feel more comfortable, but we decided it would probably just be best to head next door. (Which according to Kristen is a federal law: you can't have a TJ Maxx without a Ross right next to it. If you find one by itself, let us know and we'll report them.)

As soon as we walked through those automatic sliding doors something came over my little. He didn't want to get in a cart. He wanted to throw his jacket on top of the racks and pull down multiple pieces of hanging merchandise each time he retrieved it. (I guess now we know why the floors are always covered with clothes.) Kristen and I decided to look for wool socks because evidently that's a thing people wear in other states, but of course we can't find any since, again, this is Texas.

But my toddler refused to leave the sock section which he'd now decided was his own personal jungle gym. K-Hatt went to look for the socks in the men's section (because the patriarchy) and I hung back. If we're being totally honest I was just dreading pulling my kid off the hat and scarf bench because I just knew…. He'd caught the Ross.

Five minutes go by when finally I decided enough was enough. I pried his little fingers off of the mitten adorned metal grid, and of course he started flailing and screaming, grabbing at the air as if he was trying to pull his way back over to it. I walked to Kristen and delivered the diagnosis: "He's got the Ross." At which point both of us realize how funnyawful this is and I had to put my temperamental toddler down and sit. Immediately.

Now there's something else you should know Judgey Judy. My friend Kristen has made me pee my pants at least a dozen times. So many times in fact it's mentioned in the endorsement I gave her for her website. At one point there was even talk of me wearing Joy Behars every time we hung out so I didn't have to do so much laundry. Usually, this happens in the comfort of my own home, but today… well, today it was unfortunately not. 

It started. I stopped it. I took a deep breath, regained my composure, attempted to stand, and there it was again. Just a few drops warning me I'd better sit back down fast. That's when I saw you. Glaring at me and my atrocious parenting. Like I said, I get it. I'd probably judge that chick too. I guess it could've looked like I was just laughing at my son's fit, but why was I sitting down in the tightest criss cross applesauce ever documented then? Did that clue not tip you off? I guess you could've thought my son's tantrum was so hilarious to me it caused me to pee, but that doesn't really make sense either, now does it?

Oh well, you went about your business, and after another 60 seconds I was finally able to stand *almost* completely upright. By this point I was only damp, and luckily, wearing black pants. I waddled to the register and purchased the most amazing pair of March For Life gloves I've ever found, all the while my kiddo was still Rossing out. When I went to pay I made the mistake of putting him down at which point he took off. Like…gone. He hid behind a car charger display, but at least he was momentarily quiet. 

Dude, they're the best, right? 
Ross owed me these gloves after it cast that spell on my kid.

I gathered my bag and moved towards him and we were like two negatively charged magnets. The closer I got, the farther he moved. I took a step, he took three. And that's when I remembered some highly touted parenting advice from one of those toddler whispering mommy blogs: "If your child is throwing a fit in a store, whether you're finished shopping or not, just leave. You have to just walk away."

I think they meant with your kid, but I didn't realize that until I was already standing outside of Ross sans spawn.

I stood.

I waited. 

I thought about texting K-Hatt since she was still inside, then I realized for all I knew he'd reverted back to his on-the-floor writhing and the cashier was already on the phone with child protective services.

I decided to go back in. I knew it would be perceived by my toddler as a sign of weakness, but considering he'd just watched me pee my pants on the floor of a Ross, I don't know if there was much authority left for him to respect anyway. 

Thankfully, my nightmare had not come true and he was still standing by the phone chargers, just looking. Staring me down. I took a step forward and he was off again, this time darting toward the back of the store. 

The worst part about dealing with Comedically Induced Incontinence (CII), is that even when you think you have it under control, you don't. It can strike at any hilarious moment. You might be trying to retrieve your toddler from a strip shopping center when suddenly your brain internally jokes to you, "It's the Roooooooooossssssss! Yo baby's got the Roooooooosssssssssss!" And before you know it you're hunched back over, kegeling like your life depends on it. I couldn't breathe. I was so furious, but also so enraptured by the absurdity of this moment. It was like an out of body experience. I had floated up above myself and was watching this crazy woman frantically pee-chase her out-of-control offspring across aisles of cluttered clothes. 

I finally caught him and pulled him out from between a faux leather ottoman and aqua arm chair (which was actually kinda cute, I might go back… wearing a disguise of course). 

By this point, I was more than just "damp." I was straight up soaked as I wrestled my husband's son out of that store. 

So in conclusion, Mrs. Judge Dread, I hope you can appreciate the fact that I was indeed trying. More than most people probably would have. But my body was working against me, which come to think of it, is also that little punk's, and his siblings', fault*. So there.


*This might be a lie. Growing up my brother made me pee my pants at the mall, at a CVS, and at a Brookshire's. It just happens a little easier now, that's all. 

**If you also suffer from CII, talk to your doctor.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Why You Should March with NWF in 2015

Gerri Santoro deserved better than abortion...

Marla Cardamone deserved better. Lakisha Wilson deserved better. Tonya Reaves deserved better… the list goes on. 

No woman should ever die from an abortion, because no woman should ever feel she has to have one.

Sunday, December 28, 2014

(Baby) Jesus, What's Wrong With These People?

You’ve probably seen it floating around your preferred window into cyberspace lately: “Topless FEMEN activist kidnaps Baby Jesus from Vatican nativity scene.” So the story goes, a woman bearing the phrase “GOD IS A WOMAN” across her bare chest snuck into the Vatican nativity scene, rushed to the manger, took the little Baby Jesus statue, and darted off. She was quickly chased down and apprehended by a security guard who covered her up with his cape, but FEMEN has called for similar stunts to be pulled around the world, their website offering the following reasoning:

“The maniacal desire to control women’s fertility is a common trait of many religions…Abortion is sacred!

“Control women’s fertility?”


I have to admit, when I first heard about this story I was furious, but when I read that bit, I couldn’t help but laugh … and laugh … and laugh. Rarely can such a brazen display of hypocrisy be observed so succinctly.

I’m sure the “radical” feminists of the 21st century would hate to all be grouped in with the likes of FEMEN, and I would hate to do that to them; but let’s not be na├»ve – the ladies of FEMEN totally consider themselves radical feminists. They’re all about some birth control, and their own website proclaims their ideology that “abortion is sacred.” Now, let’s be real – women’s fertility is definitely being controlled, and in fact, there are many in the world who strive to completely impede it, whether temporarily or permanently. Women’s fertility is under attack constantly in a world that doesn’t even realize it’s doing it. But FEMEN is looking for the villain in all the wrong places.

I don’t want to toot my little Catholic horn for too long, but the Catholic Church isn’t exactly out to control anyone’s fertility. There is no great Vatican conspiracy to see to it that every woman everywhere gets pregnant at exactly this time on exactly this day and if she doesn’t off-with-her-head. I mean, if there is, I haven’t heard about it. Not a single Vatican official has ever contacted me to make sure I’m maintaining strict obedience to a conception-or-not-conception schedule, is all I can say.

But, I am regularly told by people of all sorts that I “need” birth control. People ask “how I’ll keep myself from having kids” if I never plan to use contraception when I’m married, and I’m constantly reminded in the media and politics circus which surrounds me that contraception is something I *need* – something I *need* so badly it should be free – even provided by my employer. When I tell people I plan to use NFP and work with my awesome body when a baby just isn’t feasible, I’m told “that sounds like too much work, why not just take a pill every morning and not think so much about it?” as if education about my body and the way it works is somehow a waste of time in a world where I can just pop a pill or get something implanted into my arm and be done with that pesky womanhood inherent to my existence. Not to mention, I’m constantly grouped under the umbrella of “young women” who “need” abortion in order to be successful people – some even have the audacity to claim that I’m not equal to men unless abortion is accessible to me (as if the equality of the sexes is situational and not inherent). The amazing things my body is capable of – like, you know, making people – are considered a waste of time and money that will hold me back if they aren’t chained down and drugged into a state of manageable torpidity. And should all these efforts to imprison my fertility fail, I’m offered the “comfort” of knowing that, it’s okay … there are ways to “take care of” that.
Who was trying to control women’s fertility again?

It is a serious and deeply-held belief of mine that women will not be truly liberated until womanhood is. And as long as femalefertility is treated as a disease with useful benefits when its primary function is restrained, and as something that’s nice for a while but then needs to be tamed and shut down, I really don’t think we can consider women, or womanhood, truly liberated. How can anyone claim to be for women and against patriarchy and at the same time say women “need” contraception and abortion to be successful – to have the same opportunities as men? Is a culture that does not afford the same opportunities and freedoms and considerations to women with children as it does to men with or without not misogynistic at its core?

Here’s how I see it: as long as an organization aims to protest oppression by freeing their breasts while calling for the submission and restraint of the female reproductive system by force of chemicals and devices, and considering “sacred” the act of deliberately eliminating the natural consequence of female fertility – they’re hypocrites. Or, at very best, dramatically inconsistent in their claims; not to mention, quite frankly,altogether useless to any serious movement for women’s rights and equality anywhere in the world.


Post by Tori Long

Monday, December 1, 2014

Gather 'round feminists, and let me tell you a little story…

A few years back some local NWF came over to my place and we had our first ever "Sign Drinking Wine Making Party." No that is not a typo. It's a hilarious joke, because that's how much wine we made, er, I mean drank. The poster board was plentiful and the glue sticks were a-flyin' ...then finally around 2am pretty much everyone passed out on my living room floor at which point I did the only thing a slightly tipsy, scissor wielding type-A nut job like myself could- I trashed all the hideous garbage signs my dear friends had crapped out and remade every single one of them into the glorious pieces of protest art they deserved to be.

Basically, I was the sign fairy that night. Minus the tutu and double the glitter.

Why was something so seemingly trivial that important to me? Well, because branding. Our movement is pretty freaking terrible at it. So terrible that every year we actually joke about which completely looney looking demonstrator will make the cover of the Dallas Morning News, and sadly we're almost always right. There are never very many of them, but what they lack in people they make up for in hot glue'd monstrosities which is like media crack. (Side note: Dude holding the baby doll nailed to the cross with the 10 inch long ketchup laden butcher knife sticking out of its chest… stop. please stop. just stop. I truly believe your heart is in the right place, but your body is not… it should never enter a Hobby Lobby. Like, ever.)

See, marches seldom save any babies, but they're still important. They're a way for us to show our community that when it comes to women in crisis and children who might lose their lives, we care. We care about our neighbors, the born and the preborn. We care about human rights for ALL human beings.

They're also a great chance for us to show our cities/towns/gypsy camps how NOT crazy most of us are. It's a chance for us to let people know that this is where the cool kids hang and they should come out of the shadows and be proud of their pro life beliefs as well. It's a chance to show people that we look, act, love, and laugh just like them. Oh, and that we watch The Simpson's too, because we're normal rational peeps with a sense of humor.

So this season amidst all of your Festivus parties, Kwanzaa gatherings, and Christmas shindigs please consider throwing your very own 'Sign Drinking Wine Making Party.' We always march around January 22nd, so you have plenty of time to get-a-Evitin'. It's a great chance to connect with other badass pro-lifers in your community… and maybe ever talk them outta doing that whole baby doll butcher knife piece they've been working on.

Let us know if you need help connecting with others in your area or finding out when your local march is happening. That's what we're here for! …well that, and to sneak into your house and remake your signs in the middle of the night, but only if they're super, super ug-o.

Friday, November 21, 2014

Life or Death for Scott Panetti

When Destiny asked me to write about Scott Panetti, the mentally ill man who will be executed in Texas on December 3, my first response was: "Uh. Why?"

You see, I am not an anti-death penalty activist. I'm not even 100% against the death penalty. (And before you start screaming at your monitor that being anti-abortion and pro-death penalty are morally and logically inconsistent, sorry, but they're totally not.)

To be utterly honest and fair, I should begin by saying that when it comes to the death penalty, I am ambivalent. I hate being ambivalent about moral issues, but here I sit, ambivalent as hell.

I don't have a problem with the death penalty in theory. ​The problem I have is with its practical application. The meting out of death can be just, but our governments almost never are. We can very often be reasonably certain of a person's guilt or innocence. But we can't be certain we are giving the power of life and death over citizens to a system worthy of this power.

In the case of Scott Panetti, we are dealing with a man who is mentally ill; in particular, he is schizophrenic.

Now, the headlines are designed to elicit an emotional reaction: "Texas to execute mentally ill man," they scream over and over. But we have to stop and remember: "mentally ill" can mean a lot of things, and a person's mental illness doesn't necessarily keep him from knowing the difference between right and wrong.

I am neither a psychiatrist nor a lawyer, so the medical and legal details of the case are not, as the kids say, my jam. I can't look at Panetti's file and decide he is what the doctors call "mos def cray," nor can I decipher the legal jargon and argue that he wasn't treated fairly by the court. 

I can't even look at some of the more sensational details of the case - such as the fact that he represented himself in court dressed in a cowboy outfit and put Jesus Christ on his witness list - and know whether or not he was (this is Latin) cray-cray in the bray-brain, or hamming it up for that insanity appeal.

What I do know is that we don't know. And it's not a good idea to execute someone if he might be playing with less than half of a deck.

It is one thing to execute a man who murdered and knows he murdered, repentant or not. It is another thing entirely to execute a man who may have murdered what he thought were Care Bears with what he thought was a ray-gun from space. And here I don't intend to make light of the murders of two people (his in-laws, which incidentally may go toward establishing his sanity, ba-dum-chik) but to illustrate that all legal technicalities aside, there is a possibility that Scott Panetti didn't know what the eff he was doing when he committed those murders.

It is my opinion that in instances such as these, we must err on the side of mercy.

Even when I was 100% anti-death penalty, I didn't believe it was an issue as worthy of our time as abortion. After all, Scott Panetti has a team of lawyers, a bunch of judges looking at his case, psychiatrists and witnesses and supporters ad nauseam. The unborn baby has what? Me and you. Writing. Arguing. Standing on sidewalks. Asking for her mother to show mercy.

The unborn baby gets no trial, fair or otherwise, no appeals process, no Constitutional rights. The whim of her mother is all that stands between her and death.

In this case, though, we should think of what we tell abortion supporters who argue that the unborn child is just a worthless clump of cells: "But what if it isn't?"

Maybe Scott Panettis dozen or so stays in a mental hospital, his decades-long history of schizophrenia, and his tendency toward delusions don't mean anything. Maybe he's sane enough for us to execute.

But what if he isn't?

I am not anti-death penalty, and I certainly believe the murders of two innocent people demand justice. But the extraordinary circumstances of this case demand extraordinary prudence and mercy.


Post by Kristen Hatten