"My body, my choice" only makes sense when someone else’s life isn’t at stake.
Fun fact: If my younger sister was in a car accident and desperately needed a blood transfusion to live, and I was the only person on Earth who could donate blood to save her, and even though donating blood is a relatively easy, safe, and quick procedure no one can force me to give blood. Yes, even to save the life of a fully grown person, it would be ILLEGAL to FORCE me to donate blood if I didn’t want to.
See, we have this concept called “bodily autonomy.” It’s this….cultural notion that a person’s control over their own body is above all important and must not be infringed upon.
Like, we can’t even take LIFE SAVING organs from CORPSES unless the person whose corpse it is gave consent before their death. Even corpses get bodily autonomy.
To tell people that they MUST sacrifice their bodily autonomy for 9 months against their will in an incredibly expensive, invasive, difficult process to save what YOU view as another human life (a debatable claim in the early stages of pregnancy when the VAST majority of abortions are performed) is desperately unethical. You can’t even ask people to sacrifice bodily autonomy to give up organs they aren’t using anymore after they have died.
You’re asking people who can become pregnant to accept less bodily autonomy than we grant to dead bodies.
"ThickerThan Blood" 2013, colored pencils on paper, cm 27x27
for Scope Art Fair, Thinkspace Gallery
Omfg the kids were so good and quiet until literally the second their mom calls they scream and slump on the floor crying and when I get off the phone everything’s fine
I’m an adult and I can see again. #notsarcasm #teehee
What will sustain you with any difficulty in your art is your love for that art. So if you’re having problems with your art, you’ve got to re-immerse yourself in your love of it … I always tell anyone who’s a writer who’s like “I got a writer’s block” like, fifty novels in a hundred and fifty days. You will be reminded of why you love this shit. You won’t even get to fifty — no, the love will return.
I think part of the problem is that we think that we can muscle through this shit … if you grew up like me, powering through shit was the way we survived. You’re like, I’m two-hundred dollars in debt? I can work thirty-six hours straight. Art doesn’t respond to that. Art does not respond to the whip. Our bodies do, but art isn’t about our bodies. And so you’ve got to move away from the “powering through it,” it isn’t going to work.
Junot Diaz, on the cure for creative/writer’s “block” (via colporteur
A co worker and I discussed starting a side show and she’d be the ring leader/fire juggler/square head and I’d be the fire swallower cause I could totally do that abd she said “we’d have to make you look more side show” and I was like omfg I am so badass you don’t even know how many tattoos I’d have and piercings and body mods and all I said out loud was how much my dad hates them and the thing is I think we’re finally bonding and it’s great
#spoopy #imean #spooky #fog #nature #trees #nj (at Yanticaw Park)
I hate my body but once chris hugs me or touches me or tells me I’m sexy, I completely forget that I ever hated my body
I love my coworkers. It’s like we’ve become a little dysfunctional family. But I hate retail. I hate leaving my house and dealing with idiotic customers who treat us like we are scum of the earth. I hate minimum wage. I hate not being qualified for health care. I hate being sick all the time and working while I’m sick. I hate my douche of a manager. Ugh. I just want to be able to sleep the sick away.