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Thursday, March 12, 2009

Today a woman told me she had enough money to buy diapers for the rest of the month--laid-off for the past few months, homeless, living and eating with a friend, her child. The man involved is long gone. (yawn/ouch). She has sold everything she owns to make it to here. Pause.

Oh. That sucks, I say... But how much is that? Twenty dollars. She has twenty dollars. Her co-pay, right? :(. The surgery will cost from $250 to $7,000. No matter anything. No time. No loans. No payment plans or claims. Cash. Credit card. Money order. She’ll have to find at least $100 more than she couldn’t find yesterday and I will fall short of suggesting she offer sexual favors. Though, that solution may pass between us in silence when I tell her there is nothing left for me to do or suggest, that she’ll have to find that cash in her life amongst those she knows. Nevermind the diapers.

Suppose some abortions are meant to be. Sacrifices. Motherhood. Reflective. Not having an abortion means being a selfish mother. It's important women reclaim/frame this experience from within. The spirit.

Suppose some abortions are a tragic reminder that our society doesn't just fail some women, we burn them at the stake. Pointedly, women who are occupied with surviving--deemed unworthy of assets that float in space in their name, entangled by invisible webs lightly but chronically capturing their most basic human rights. Breaks the heart. Not the spirit.

Suppose I talk to one more woman who has less than $0 in her pocket. Suppose ground zero is different than the newscaster will tell you. Suppose I'll let you know when the recession bottoms out.

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