My body. My choice.
These are scary times in America, especially for people of color, lgbtq+, and women. Or even worse, a POC lgbtq+ woman. Slowly over the course of my life I've somehow watched my country backslide into former more prejudiced days, instead of moving forward as a truly free and progressive country like we are advertised to be.
And maybe this topic is especially sensitive for me based on my upcoming circumstances and how completely out of control I feel about them. How I lost my right to choose for myself when Vitaly re entered my life.
It's scary to know your autonomy, your anatomy belongs to someone other than yourself.
I'd like to think of myself as a strong woman. I'd like to think that I could stand up to my father or my brothers when they threaten me with their power.
Maybe that's why seeing my internal conflicts being projected into my external surroundings has me feeling so passionate about this, but, last night was a great tragedy for those communities I mentioned before and others like it. In light of the Roe V wade law being overturned in some states it stirred up a lot of issues in America that we cannot ignore.
For those who don't know it. Roe V. Wade was a landmark decision of the U.S supreme court in which the court rules that the constitution of the United States generally protects the liberty to choose to have an abortion.
Now, no matter your views on abortion itself, that doesn't matter when addressing the point that a federal government wants to take away a woman's right to choose. That her body somehow has regulations, as though we are property of the state.
To remove one's choice is one of the most dangerous backslides in this false-progressive country. Because when does it stop?
If America can make abortions illegal in some states again, then who's to say they don't take a woman's right to vote away again. Who's to say that they don't make gay marriage illegal again. Who's to say they don't segregate people of color again?
People say 'oh that wouldn't happen', but the fact of the matter is that a dystopian novel is just a few misplaced laws devastating a country into past historical mistakes, and how the people handle those issues in modern day America... Like what we're facing here.
It's easier for a teenager to buy an AR-15 deadly weapon than it is for some women to find a safe way to terminate a pregnancy. Especially with extraordinary circumstances like a woman who's been raped, or suffers a medical issue that threatens the mothers life if the pregnancy continues. Nope. They don't care.
That's how threatening a woman with her own power is viewed to be. A gun seems less threatening to those ignorant and self important people who think freedom means the right to violence. Living breathing people being killed off instead of the right to choose to terminate before there is a person created.
And many peoples argument against abortion stems from a religious beleif. Church and state is meant to be separate in America, but it has increasingly become a factor in the decision of all people. Even for those who don't practice the same religion, share those same beliefs, or rather rely on science for their answers.
That isn't to say all religions in general is solely the problem. It's just been a widely used counter position to the 'pro life' community versus the pro choice.
Last night was tragic for women everywhere because during a Women's rights Rally that took place in Texas a 'pro life' extremist drove his car into a crowd of women for the sole purpose of killing them. It was the town of Pflugerville, Texas, which also happens to have a predominantly black population.
Coincidence? Maybe. Probably not though.
So many people across America were outraged at this senseless act of violence, and in response to the hatred against women- a man who claimed to be 'pro life' took 6 lives last night and injured a grave deal more.
Today our response is women's rallies all across America. Not just to say only women, but anyone who is, identifies as, or supports women of all shapes and colors. I was one of those women.
Today I went to Washington Square Park to protest with others against all that is wrong in what the supreme court decided for women's bodies, what senseless violence was perpetuated because of it, and just for general prejudice. It was an inclusive rally to rise up against the racists, sexist, bigots, the women haters and neo-nazi white supremacy groups. The brain dead politics extremists.
I was overwhelmed by the crowd that showed up today. So many beautiful like minded people came together. I looked around and observed the people before I even submerged myself to join them.
I wanted to see, to understand what I was ready to be a part of.
Maybe the empowerment of a thousand voices fighting for a million more would give me the courage to be as outraged and unforgiving of what my own family expects of me. What they are willing, no, expecting from me. If you don't fight for yourself who are you fighting for?
I'm just white noise in a city of a million voices.
Washington Square Park itself is a marsh, a cemetery, a parade ground, and a common gathering place for avant garde artists, and now for protesters. It's well known for its arches honoring Ol' white wig George Washington. It meets into a circle surrounding a round fountain between the trees and cemented path.
I wasn't paying attention to the greenery, the backdrop of a clear sky, or any of that. I focused solely on its people.
Beautiful women from all walks of life standing hand in hand.
Black women, POC women, Asian and Muslim women. Trans woman, white women, and lesbian women. Tall women, heavy women, curly haired women, redhead women. Black Muslim women, Sunni muslim women, European, American, South American, Indian women, indigenous women. Catholic, Christian, agnostic women. Disabled women, older or younger women.
Or I guess they were just people.
What they identified as were living, breathing people. And they should have a choice. They shouldn't fear for their lives simply for being them. They should thrive despite the hate, the laws, the disappointments of other humans who aren't so progressive, who are uneducated and spiteful.
And with those women came the allies. The men, the non binary, the people not directly affected by certain laws or prejudices. They came too.
One hand holding the other. Many were complete strangers, and yet we were the same in our individualism. All the diverse communities came together with their signs and their joint messages. I read many of the picket signs or poster boards.
-Black Lives Matter
-My body my choice
-Abort the court
-If god hates gays why are we so cute?
-Gay power, Black power, women power.
-keep your rosaries off my ovaries
-if I wanted the congress in my uterus I'd screw a congressman
-gun violence is a woman's issue
-WE ARE THE RESISTANCE
I think it was one of the most glorious things I've ever seen.
I've never been to a protest before, so I honestly had no idea what to expect, but I felt compelled to go stand with my sisters. To be a part of something greater than myself. As a model I feel the stigma against women. I'm viewed as an object, an advertisement who's clearly 'asking for it' because I'm not afraid to show my body. People feel entitled to me.
I'm judged for my weight. For how I look. How I should act. Told by men what to do for half my adult life.
I've lived around women forced to pleasure men. Witnessed women trying to sneak away to get an abortion when poverty and circumstance or no circumstance, but just personal choice alone drives them to that decision.
For my protest sign specifically I decided to write, 'we'll stop fucking you so you can go fuck yourselves'.
I walked into the ever growing crowd with my sign in hand, black poster board with silver sharpie marker writing. I held my hand out to a Muslim girl whose sign read, 'my hijab my choice, my body my choice', and we smiled at each other.
Chants could be heard all across the park. Someone had a megaphone further down somewhere. The echo of a hundred voices calling out until it was a ballad of one continuous voice that carried in the wind.
-
I had only touched my phone a few times to record and take pictures of the Women's rally to capture the powerful moments. I took pictures of the masses of people like a sea of moving fish. I took pictures of all the different colored hands holding the other. I took pictures of women crying and hugging other women.
As those dressed in costumes for The HandMaid's Tale, which is quite relevant to the dystopian future we fear could happen should we let the wrong people continue to rise to power.
It's a Margret Atwood book. Look it up if you don't know it.
Only when I got home did I realize I had a text message from Anthony. I hadn't heard from him since the night we had sex, which was five or six days ago. Not that I expected him to reach out to me. I held no high hopes for any continuous line of communication.
Still, he texted me today, so I opened the message while sitting on my laminate kitchen counter that was sticking to my thighs, with a popsicle in my mouth. Summer heat in New York.
*Anthony: Hey gorgeous, it's been a busy week. I haven't been able to reach out, but what're you up to this weekend? Up for seconds?* He asked me outright. I can respect that.
*Me: This weekend? Who knows* I decided not to jump to the idea of seeing him again. If Anthony wants casual I can do casual indeed.
The reality of it is, I have nowhere to go. I'll be home reading or something like that. I'm a homebody. But that's a dull way to answer a question. Rather I leave it vague.
*Anthony: Uh, well for one, I would like to know* he was quick with the retort as always.
Do I wanna see Anthony again? It's futile to build up too much enjoyment between us when I know there is an expiration date. But then again, why not have the fun while I can, and wherever the future Vitaly takes me I'll at least have these memories to play back in my mind. Something to look fondly on when I will most likely be miserable. I decided.
*Me: I suppose we could grab another drink. I get to choose the place this time though.*
That seemed to intrigue him. He asked me where, but I told him he'd only know on the day he takes me out. "Anthony: And when can that day be? Thursday? Saturday?* He gave me a few options. Thursday...that's tomorrow. Yeah...I think I'd like that.
The first thing that crossed my mind was the answer yes. The second thing that crossed my mind was, can I give Boris the slip? I feel like a guy like Anthony would notice Boris right away. He's such an observant person even if people don't realize that he's always paying attention.
Boris is built like a wide thick giant with a flat crooked nose and a very serious expression. He can speak English, but usually refuses to. He hates Americans. You'd be surprised at how good a man that large can be at being invisible.
Even knowing all that about him I still decided to say yes to Anthony's plan to see me tomorrow. I was actually kind of excited about it, which is rare. Men don't make me jolly. But I guess it's the taboo of it all. It's gotten my full attention.
As I said, my body my choice, and I'd like to leave it in Anthony's hands for a while.