In my previous post, I spoke a bit of my heritage.
Of course, blood heritage is only part of my history.
Life experiences play a huge part in making us who we are, and it’s of course up to each of us to determine how those experiences will shape us.
I was raped when I was fifteen years old.
A stranger got access into my apartment building, took me to the rooftop, and raped me.
It’s a type of psychic scar that follows you forever, even when you have recognized the trauma, and the fear, that has lived with you for almost forty years. Some people choose to let the trauma decide the course of their lives, others take the trauma and deal with it.
Sometimes, there’s more trauma — like the alcoholic lover who went on a binge and beat the crap out of me; yet I went on with life, even got married.
Which brings me to choice.
I got into a discussion about choice with a guy I met once, and I learned then how immensely difficult it is to talk about this subject dispassionately. While I still remember how I terrified I was at fifteen — not knowing if I was pregnant or what would I do if I was pregnant, he feels that if abortion had been available to his mother back in the day, he would not be here today.
I understood what he was talking about and he understood what I was talking about, but the emotional component was something neither of us could really set aside. And while we may have rationally understood each other’s point of view, that emotionally charged element would always get in the way.
Ultimately, however, I am female. I have been raped by a stranger; I was molested by my father’s adopted father. I do not believe legislators who have no experienced some of the things I’ve lived through should be able to tell me what I can do with my body, especially if, on the other hand, they say we need less government in our lives.