It almost seems like abortion is a dead issue (no pun intended). When hold-nothing-back mouthpieces of the Twitter generation like Tomi Lahren (of whom I lately wrote) can’t grasp the basic facts as they float one garish utterance after another like helium-filled balloons at a birthday party, discussion no longer appears to have much point. And Tomi, recall, is supposed to represent “conservatism”.
Her position, stated infamously (if very casually) on national television, is essentially, “Hands off my guns, and hands off my body.” In other words, the government’s intruding into a woman’s pregnancy is equivalent to its confiscating the weapon with which she would have deterred a rapist climbing through her window at midnight.
May I offer the following analogy in dissent? Say that you contract to be the lifeguard on a stretch of ocean beach during the summer. You demonstrate superior swimming ability and are offered the job on the spot. Great. Now the summer proceeds to unfold without incident, and you fall into the habit of munching potato chips and swilling softdrinks rather than leaving your shaded throne to swim around the pier once in a while. You grow fat and are easily winded. But so what? It’s your body, isn’t it? Don’t you have a right to abuse it if you so choose?
Well, no, not really. Not in this case. The terms of your employment assume that you will remain performance-ready; and if you fall out of shape, furthermore, another may die. The swimming novice who screams and flails beyond the pier in late August will drown because you can’t reach him, thanks to your consuming interest in supplying pleasure to your taste buds. You were supposed to be that person’s lifeline, the door to another day for someone who can’t survive without help. You should not have accepted your post if you intended to ignore its responsibilities.
Unless a woman is raped (against which outrage a gun is a pretty good insurance policy, as Tomi says), she should be able to partake liberally of the joys of sex—if such is her inclination—while preserving a few abstinent days in the middle of her monthly cycle. Or if that’s just barbarically severe, then she can always equip herself with contraception (or purchase one of the wide variety of contemporary toys that promise to keep her happy). If she chooses to handle her body in such a way that she risks conceiving another life, then she needs to be prepared to supply the lifeline: those are the “terms of engagement”.
Frankly, I don’t see why any educated woman should find herself in an unwanted pregnancy unless she wants the drama of it—unless, that is, she wants to perform the sanguinary rite of passage into a sick sisterhood that is represented by abortion. Today’s cutting-edge feminists say they don’t need or even like men, anyway: they tend to prefer each other. So why does this remain such a hot topic with them, unless they require a blood sacrifice to cut their ties with human decency the way a gang initiation requires a drive-by murder?