We were in Borders last night and as we entered we could hear the frenetic rantings of a man, his soap box and his portable amplifier, graphically describing what happens to the foetus during abortion. After referring to brain cells being sucked out he went on to say that this was murder and asked for a comment from the lady nearby. Well if the baby hasn’t been born yet it’s not really murder is it? she replies meekly at which he nearly busted a heart valve as he continued ranting. God will punish us on Judgement Day, he is not a weak judge, there will be no lawyers, yada yada, yada.
Pleeeease, I say, he’s asking for opinions from the pedestrians. Let me go forth and say a few words to the faithful, pleeeeeease!
Looking stricken, Leon shakes his head and moves on to the travel section. Hoping against hope that I will avoid the temptation to get on my own soap box and suffer my own nosebleeds from reaching the dizzying summit of my own moral high ground.
So, taking the microphone I say, You there, Man of God, you care about the lives of children and you think abortion is murder? He nods sanctimoniously, Well your brethren in the Catholic church, some of those men of God are the worst perpetrators of evil against children.
Rundle Mall is very busy on a Friday night and my voice bounces back at me violently almost causing me to lose my courage. However I press on maintaining possession of the microphone from an outraged zealot.
And what about the millions of children who are HIV positive because the head of the Catholic Church refuses to acknowledge that condoms will save lives rather than just prevent birth. His children in the majority world where poverty reigns and corruption is rife, here they are orphaned, as their parents drop like flies from AIDS, because we couldn’t possibly advocate birth control, because after all every HIV infested sperm IS sacred, right? Is this murder?
And what about the woman. She is surrendered on the altar of religion and poverty with monotonous regularity. It’s not enough to take her soul is it? The one possession she has control over, her physical body you want that too. Hide her, reveal her, vilify her, uphold her as saintly mother, she’s either whore or virgin and nothing in between, make her diet until she’s invisible, deny her the priesthood, mock her when she attains power by continuously commenting on her fucking hairdo and not on her policies, you’re no better than the ones who make her wear the veil.
A woman should have the right to choose. The foetus that finds its way into her body through rape, lack of birth control or carelessness, it shouldn’t matter. Many women do not make this choice lightly. She thinks about the life that could have been. Agonises over the decision and lives with the memory forever. And this should be her choice, to be made without men in suits dogging her with images of the mutilated foetus, when they march their own sons off to war to be mutilated by bombs and bullets in the name courage, country and Christ. Is this murder?
What about the children who survive on five litres of water a day, who die from preventable diseases like malaria and diarrhoea, while you irrigate your Church garden with drinking water? Is this not murder?
Does God not advocate abortion in the Old Testament? Hosea 9:11-16 – Give them a miscarrying womb and dry breasts. . .Ephraim is smitten, their root is dried up, they shall bear no fruit: yea though they bring forth, yet will I slay even the beloved fruit of their womb.” And God obliges by making all their unborn children miscarry. Is this the God for whom you speak?
He is not my God. He does not own my body. Take your microphone and shove it up your privileged, white, misogynistic Christian arsehole, because you have absolutely no authority here. And lastly take a message from your own book of teachings – Judge not, and ye shall not be judged, condemn not and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven” (Luke 6:37).
And at that moment my glorious fantasy ended and Leon navigated me up the escalators to have a look at the DVD sale. While the voice of the damned hypocrite outside boomed on. I had to settle for giving him my teacher’s death stare as I left the store, while he was holding an intimate conference, quietly spewing his bilge to the adoring young, devoted, dillusional, dogma-devouring, delinquents with angelic white faces nodding in total agreement.
If I’d had the fortitude I would have vomited my recently digested pasta meal into his brand new speakers. Alas the coward I am, I walked on down the shrine to consumerism and bought myself a birthday present. Sigh!