The Misogynistic Nature of Abortion
JMJ
Methinks me hears the the thunder of spiked-heeled jackboots crushing the skulls of infants ‘neath the goose-stepping march of woman’s ambition, woman’s desire to find affirmation in the denial of her body and in the desire to become more like the worst of man’s aspirations to power, to pleasure to wealth. Woman, like man in his most warlike incarnations, pursues her own pleasure, her own wealth, her own esteem, her own power on the altar of human sacrifice. The sacrifice being her own child, the altar her womb, this anti-Madonna does not sacrifice her child out of love for humankind as did the Blessed Virgin Mary, but to meet her own ravenous appetite for the baubles and praises of a Godless, nihilistic society, incarnating an evil so profound, Hell shudders.
In the desire to establish her rightful place in the world, woman has come to believe in the artificial construction of the “man’s world” and rather than to create an equitable, just world, seeks to compete and succeed in that arena.
She, like Lady MacBeth, desires to “unsex” herself and in androgynous glory strike forth into a battle, not of her own design, but of the worst imaginings of men. Modern western culture has demonized even the most sacred, most mystical, most feminine aspect of womanhood declaring a woman’s direct connection to the propagation of life and the growth of that individual life in her womb to be a societal construct that’s sole purpose is her oppression.
Modern society has deemed the new human being, depended on her to be nothing more than the “seed of white male oppression.”
Society tells her this obstacle to her self-actualization must be eradicated, destroyed, erased. In essence, a woman’s natural bodily functions are in opposition to her, repressing her, a woman’s body is an evil to be suppressed and contained.
In this quest for a false equality (I say “false” because it is not “equality” as a woman that is sought, but that she become a functionary of manhood, that she become man-like, that she become man)
rather than bring a truly beautiful spirit of creation, nurture, growth; rather than teaching a deeper compassion, a greater mercy; rather than seeing an unjust world and attempt its healing this modern woman decided to fight for her place in the perpetuation of its horror. This modern woman in being “less woman” and “more man” would there claim her equality.
Many men kill and destroy to advance themselves and their agendas, and like Hitler’s sycophants, women, striving to please an abstract vision, a god of power, she sets will to outdo man. It is not enough to kill, but she claims the right to declare or deny the very humanity of the child she bears in her womb.
“This child,” says she, “is not human until I bestow humanity upon it, and should I wish to revoke that humanity at any time for any reason until it chokes it first breath in this rat race world that is my prerogative and I may snuff its existence without ever looking into its face.”
And then, with the High Priestess of self-affirmation, self-indulgence, self-at-all-cost; Queen of Sluggish Wealth and Purchased Friends OPRAH, she shouts her abortion:
I HAVE ABORTED MY BABY!
NOW, I AM FULLY WOMAN!
PRAISE ME!
PITY ME!
ADMIRE ME!
GIVE ME WHAT I DESIRE!
BEHOLD THE WOMAN!
I HAVE SACRIFICED MY CHILD! I AM NOW FULLY REALIZED!
I WAS ONCE THE WOMB OF LIFE!
I HAVE BECOME DEATH!
BEHOLD MY POWER TO PROCLAIM A CHILD’S HUMANITY OR TO DECLARE ITS DESTRUCTION!
BEHOLD MY POWER TO NURTURE A CHILD OR TO TOSS GROUND MEAT INTO A RUBBISH BIN!
I AM WOMAN—FEAR MY ROAR!
No longer can woman claim victim-hood and blame man. No longer can she justify her claim as precedent to her injustice wars fought under false pretext, and atrocities committed by men.
Deliberate murder of innocents is an evil.
Evil.
Evil.
Evil.
For which there can be no justification.
And abortion
the sterilized, clinical, butchering of infants,
the plastic bags of torn apart bodies
tossed into a furnace or landfill.
Unwanted, unmourned little bodies of big headed, wide-eyed babies.
Modern woman’s sigh of relief that this child’s little face will never shine and laugh in the warmth of a late Spring morning’s Sun humming with the song of cicada and bird carries on a gentle breeze.
(C) Copyright 31 January 2021
For Lourdes Sake 