REPEAL THE EIGHT


I haven’t written for a while because I felt like I had nothing worth saying. Not in a bad way, but in a normal way. Life ebs and flows and sometimes you have something to write about, and sometimes you don’t. 

The woman standing on outside reproductive choices changed all that. I wasn’t about to walk in because I was pregnant. I can’t imagine what that would be like. I know that if the situation arose, I would have an abortion. My body, my choice. Thirty years after my mum campaigned for the freedom to choose, my body is still not mine. I don’t have to justify my reasons for this to anybody, but I know there are people who will scream and shove pictures of foetuses in my face. All I will say on the matter is, if I was a the only match for a bone marrow transplant that would save a life, I would not be forced to give that transplant because I have bodily autonomy  I have the right to choose what happens to my body, except when I happen to be pregnant. Once the baby is born nobody will give a fuck. 

As I walked into the clinic, a woman grabbed my arm. It caught me so unawares, because she looked like a normal passerby and not a protestor. Before I knew it, a leaflet was in my hand and she was standing in front of me, blocking my route in the door. “I know why you are going in, pet. you are so young, you are making the wrong choice. let us help you” 

She thought I was pregnant, and I was going to the clinic to get adivice on abortion. All this was definitly assumed because I was single and alone, despite the fact the clinic offers many services, help getting an abortion just one of them. 

She started talking to me about a clinic down the road, and shepherding me towards it. Of support for my choice. She didn’t want to let me in the door, did not want to hear that I wasn’t pregnant, that in fact I was just seeing a doctor. And suddenly I was standing alone, several doors down, with a leaflet in my hand telling me that a choice I would make about my body was evil and wrong, and that I would regret it for the rest of my life and feel empty and have helped murder an innocent life. 

I crumpled it up and put it in the bin before it could poison someone else. I regret not standing up to that woman, looking her in the eyes and telling her to fuck off with her phamplets, to keep her views and beliefs out of my reproductive system. Every woman knows best what is right for her. And illegal abortion does not mean no abortion. It just makes accessing safe procedures finically impossible for poorer women. Which is why, when I stand up a fight for the 8th amendment to be repealed, I am not standing for myself. I could, if the worst came to the worst, scrape together the money to get a flight to England  I am standing up to fight for all the women who can’t. 

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