In January 2019 I will be in Washington, DC, joining the Womens March. Do you have an amazing protest sign? Come say hi.
60 years ago, my grandmother was afraid.
In the hospital after delivering a sixth child. A complicated pregnancy, much like the previous, and each more difficult than the last. Her doctor said, Millie you must stop. This has to be the last. Your body cannot handle another.
What was she afraid of?
As a devout Catholic she was afraid to tell her priest, afraid he’d tell her no: the Lord’s will was more important than her health, superseded her doctor’s orders, more important than ensuring she’d be around to care for six little children.
This is a real person. This is the true story of someone who lived and breathed and taught me to drive. She’s as real as the table I’m sitting at right now.
It’s a little rattling that I hesitate to even post this, considering that equal pay, reproductive rights, and ending violence are considered politically charged topics.
Let’s change that. If you’re reading this, it’s YOU. It’s you and me and all of us. We’re better than this. GO.