Posts Tagged ‘feminism’
Jill Stanek provides a peek into the world of radical abortion culture, and one woman’s journey out of it.
I suspect many of you will understand and appreciate this part of the story:
Abigail continued some of her destructive habits until last year when her oldest son was diagnosed with autism. She began conducting online research for help, but got nowhere with the atheist groups. “Their overwhelming response was, ‘I’m sorry you weren’t able to find out and abort him in time.'”
The thought of not having her son, difficult though his condition sometimes is, was unthinkable. “I realized I was a good mother, a loving mother and, most importantly, now, without question, a pro-life mother,” she said.
Abigail began to research Christianity, which “somehow didn’t seem as hostile and threatening now. In fact, it seemed like just what I needed.”
Never underestimate the power of real love.
hat tip: Oregon Right to Life (Facebook page)
… but then Patricia Ireland goes on to say that she thinks a mother has the right to kill her child anyway. She doesn’t say it quite like that, but I think that’s a fair translation. Suzy B. has the quote, and ponders this “chink in the armor” of the pro-abortion forces.
When I went to college in the 1970s, the feminists on campus swooped me into their clique and told me they needed my help changing the world, and I was so flattered and naive I bought into it. More specifically, I bought into it for a while. What cured me more than anything else is that I started taking walks off campus every day. So, every day I got a dose of women walking down the street hand in hand with a husband, or playing tag with their kids, or visiting over the fence with a neighbor, and then I’d go back to the dorm and get a dose of bitterness and ideology. Every day I’d get a dose of women who were comfortable in their own skin, and then I’d go back to hang out with women who pretty much hated their own lives.
One day, sitting on my very 1970s bright orange-yellow bedspread, leaning up against a dorm wall plastered with mottoes such as “Give me a place to stand and I will move the world” (written in a phonetic approximation of Greek, no less), it hit me like a ton of bricks that I had never heard my feminist ‘friends’ laugh with joy. Not once. Nearly every day, away from college, I heard joyous laughter, healthy laughter, heart deep and loving, build-a-person-up laughter, but from the people who were serving as my mentors the closest to that they’d ever come was laughing at someone’s expense. It was mean laughter, cruel and sneering, superior, sometimes triumphant laughter. But it was always at somebody’s expense. There was no happiness in it. Read the rest of this entry »