Tonight after an exhausting weekend of carrying boxes up and down three flights of stairs, I made my way over to the New Abortion Caravan event here in Ottawa. Because I am currently semi-comatose my blog post will not be long or profound, but simply say Get Thee to Hear a CCBR presentation when you can, because they do good work. And you may feel conflicted over their use of graphic visuals, but their explanation for this is eloquent and thought-provoking.
What wasn’t eloquent or thought-provoking was walking out through a wall of protestors calling out “My body, my choice” in both official languages. I left early, too, and by myself, and they still kicked into high gear as they saw me coming. I smiled and waved. I do feel badly for these protestors, in a way, and it’s important to remember that those folks are not the target audience. They would be, if they would stop shouting for long enough to carry on a conversation, but until that point, I’ll leave them be.
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The strategy has changed . No longer does Planned Parenthood engage in debate. Planned Parenthood advises its’ members not to debate about when life begins or any other medical, or for that matter emotional, psychological or circumstantial issue, because such a debate leads to a recognition of life and abortion is not about women’s health. Planned Parenthood now directs it supporters to construe things so that the debate is about the mantra of choice and individualism. Hence, ‘my body, my choice’. If we were all the centre of the universe, obviously impossible, then we could do whatever we wanted with no consequence to others. However, we live in a universe wherein we are connected to all else and thus abortion affects the ‘else’s’ of one’s self and the unborn.
While we were inside the church hearing positive and persuasive speech (and, as you say, an eloquent defense of the use of disturbing graphics to effect social change), the crowd outside engaged in an overt display of naked anti-intellectualism. The constant shouting of bumper-sticker slogans couldn’t possibly persuade anyone of anything – there is simply nothing there to persuade with. Obviously the point was to harrass, not educate.
Sorry I missed you. I figured our paths would inevitably cross in person, and I looked out for you to say “hi.” Not this time . . .
Oh dear! Would have loved to meet you, Scott. How many people I missed at that event. However, I’d be happier to meet everyone at a time when I can remember the date and time instead of wandering in bleary-eyed “for moral support.” (Can one be morally supportive when one is unsure of one’s own name?)
“Can one be morally supportive when one is unsure of one’s own name?”
Of course. Indeed, one can be even more morally supportive than normal. If you introduce yourself to four different people at the event, using a different name each time, you will have quadrupled your contribution to the event’s attendance figures …