1/2
I don't know if I told this story here or not. I was 17. And had just moved into my older sisters house to attend university. She was a radical feminist, and running consciousness raising groups out of her living room. In '67. One day she thought I was out, and a bunch of women came over. They were all talking in hushed voices. Telling each other the story's of their rapes. The horror, the fear, and eventually their horrendous illegal abortions. I was shocked into silence. Frozen in place.
2/2
When my sister found me. She introduced me to all, and now I had faces, and names. To this day I remember each. Not one of those women was untouched by rape. All had suffered beyond my comprehension. This then led to my radicalization. My involvement in direct action. Through these brave women, I began to get involved in an underground organization that helped secure abortions. At great danger, and unbelievable trauma.
I know well the world before roe.
And Fuck That Shit.
@corlin 💙
I thought of you as we wound down the mountain from Crater Lake over to Ashland and back up to Medford during the blizzard Sunday night.
If there had been more internet and less coffee you may have had unexpected Visitors🤣
@damselfly59
Yes.
I am my mother's son.
And my sister's brother.
(note: I kinda didn't have a chance to turn out otherwise)
😉