Dear Mr. President:
(Um, that totally turns me on. Sorreh? Have crush? Also really like the way you pronounce the EEs at word endings as eh's as in "responsibiliteh." It makes me think of lolcats. Kittehs make me happy.)
I have spent every Roe v. Wade Anniversary since the birth (by choice; Yes...) of my child and my blog raging against the former administration, recalling my days of serving women at a family planning facility, and waxing poetic about the beautiful, empowering thing it is to choose motherhood. To plan for it (Well, mostly. Almost. Shut up, people) to embrace it, to want and decide it and own it with every ounce of desire and intention my mind and body could summon.
This year, shortly after waking and handing over my warmly bundled and drowsy daughter to her grandparents, I was literally jumping for joy with the radio's news that today you might sign away some of the horrible injustices Bush has done to women in the US and abroad. The reporter said the rule that tied the hands of my old clinic might go away- they can, we hope, give contraceptives again for free under the Family Planning program, to girls and women after their abortions, so they can be better educated and protected. This will, for so many of them, prevent the need for the procedure again in the future. This will let my very dear friends and champions of women do the work they are called to do. It fills me with joy and power that had been lost, gagged, buried for eight long years.
My laundry list of pro-choice legislation and repeals is short, punchy, and reflects my giddy attitude this week of your inauguration:
Also, I <3 you a really whole lot and plz to be not fucking that up? Trust is wee bit shaky. See above RE: last eight horrific, tragic years.
Love and puppies,