…Mostly because right now danger’s name is Elva. She’s really nice and we’re both wearing equipment. Yes, it’s the next phase in my karate journey, my friends, and they call it sparring: a fancy name for a form of fighting. Elva flashes her hand, I punch it. That kind of thing. I put this off for as long as possible, mind. I didn’t sign up for karate because I actually wanted to do anyone damage. I like the grace and strength of it all, actually. But apparently sans sparring I can’t advance in karate, so once a week I put on a spongy red helmet, and gloves, and shoes that say Ring Star.

I can assure you I am not—a Ring Star, that is. I am waiting for the moment when I deliver a strong upper cut and knock myself out. This, I have learned in kickboxing class, is a distinct possibility. Kickboxing, unlike sparring, is not mandatory. However, it is good exercise and involves looking tough while I punch into the air to a remix version of Billy Jean, Not My Lover by Michael Jackson. Then we switch things up, delivering very fierce roundhouse kicks, also into the air. I wouldn’t mess with some of the women in that class. By the time the remix of Gimme, Gimme, Gimme a Man after Midnight (Abba)—I love 80s remix classes—comes on we are on to a series of very intimidating hook, jab, punch combos.

I am not a fighter. But given that I run a pro-life blog, I really should be. I imagine myself as a kind of Hilary Swank in Million Dollar Baby, but instead of crying out for death, after the critical knockout has been delivered I would cry out for life, and then write my memoirs. (There will be no euthanasia here. I don’t have a will, so I’d appreciate it if someone would print this post out for any critical moments I hope don’t come.) Anyhoo, I imagine I am like Hilary Swank. Then I see myself in the mirrors, and I am very much brought back to the reality that I am–not.

In any event, I think there is a takeaway for any pro-life spokeswoman. Aren’t most journalists boozing softies? Next time I get a hostile question I’ll clamber over the security of the desk and put my newfound skills to good use, ending with a Victory Pose and flashing a quick smile into the camera followed by an even quicker exit. I will lose my day job, but at least I’ll go out with a bang, and be very, very famous on YouTube.

Karate. Enroll your sons and daughters, I say, because in this politically correct age, man to man combat may be the only remaining avenue of cultural coercion. We’ll want to be ready. (I am filing this post into the new “Andrea is losing it” category.)

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Brigitte is loving it: I always say orange belts are the most dangerous people in a dojo. Getting much stronger, but not quite at the point where they control everything the way they will later on. But yes, I agree. Being able to defend oneself is very much pro-life.

A couple of comments about this piece in the Globe.

First, I feel like this is as pro-life as that paper is going to get in the near future. Enjoy it.

Secondly, the comments are really interesting–mostly supportive, some angry because the father wanted his daughter to have the baby at all, some angry because he wanted her to have the baby and give it away, not keep it. Altogether, interesting.

Finally, my opinion: It’s hard for me to imagine that he as the father clearly knows what a baby is (and when life begins) and he clearly has a pretty good relationship with his daughter (they are talking, he is involved in her life) and yet she doesn’t appear to really value life.

But perhaps it’s credit to having a good relationship with her that he was able to coax her away from abortion. (Does the daughter sound somewhat flippant about the whole thing to you? “I’m not keeping it.” “Ok, I will.”) But it’s all about the baby steps (so to speak, no pun intended).

In the balance, nice piece, I say.

New, in North Carolina, a sex hotline for teens. An impersonal, faceless text line so confused kids can get–no answers and a total lack of respect and love:

The texted question: “If I was raped when I was little and just had sex was it technically my first time when I was raped or when I recently had sex?” He wrote three drafts. An hour later, he texted back: “Your first time is whatever you make it. There is no ‘right’ answer: I believe your first time can be many things (good, bad, fun, embarrassing, wonderful) but it should never be non-consensual. Your first time is the first time you choose to have sex, not when some horrible person forces you.”

More from the same article:

Some [questions] reveal dangerous chasms of ignorance. “If ur partner has aids,” one teenager asks, “and u have sex without a condom do u get aids the first time or not?”

You know where there’s a dangerous chasm of ignorance? With the “adults” who started this thing up.

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Brigitte shakes her head in disbelief: To have so much sex ed and know so little… It would be funny if it weren’t so sad.

The beauty of being a woman who is pro-life is that it is fairly easy to annoy my opponents simply by showing up. I don’t need to say all that much, when combatting the anachronistic notion that “abortion is a woman’s right.” I simply need to stand there (with shoes on, outside the kitchen!) and ask–hey, why is that self-evident? Because I don’t get it. And I don’t believe it. And by the way–that’s your opinion, not a fact.

Still, this little YouTube snippet reminds all of us not to shut up–whether you call yourself a conservative or a liberal is of no matter–most of our readers are here because they are pro-life. And my strategy on the life issue is two-fold, designed by prominent activist/communications gurus after much research and study. Ready?

One:  To show up.

Two: To not shut up.

Brilliant, non? Enjoy.  

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWHgUE9AD4s]