Treehouse Writers

I’m late with everything this week. Part of this is because the year is always crazy busy when the last term of everything educational in Australia collides with Jewish holidays. This year is worse because most people are ignoring the Jewish side of things or make snide remarks about Jews. I’m lucky that so far it’s only been snide remarks and veiled bigotry. These remarks become time consuming. They may be harmless, but given the current environment they could also be hiding dangerous bigotry. it’s not entirely safe to be Jewish most places right now. I need to check those remarks out. It’s the sensible thing to do. Earlier this year they led me to a bunch of evidence that one of our major political parties is strongly antisemitic. I keep checking this out, because I really don’t want to believe it and this week I discovered again, that not only am I right, they’re putting forward candidates who don’t hide these views. My local elections (the equivalent of state and council combined) are this Saturday, and I have factored this into how I vote. The party have gone, over the last few years, from having candidates near or at the top of my ballot to being buried deep inside the “Please don’t elect this person” part of it.
Also, I tested my capacity to dance yesterday. I did better than I expected, but I’ve been paying for it ever since. I go back to folk dancing next year, all going well. My teacher wanted me to go back properly now, but there will be issues with joints if I do that. Also, I would be dancing on the Jewish anniversary of the day of the Nova massacre, in a class that has put Israeli folk dances on hold. That would be a lot to handle, I think.
Add all this to work stuff and health stuff and I’m in Red Queen month and running very hard to just keep up.

I hope these are sufficient reasons for being a day and a half late!

Note: This was published here about three years ago. I’m reposting it because we cannot underestimate the stakes in the election that is coming up. Not just the Presidential election, but everything up and down the ballot.

There are, I suppose, as many different stories about why and how a woman gets an abortion as there are women.

Here’s one: In the bad old days before Roe, my mother once drove a friend from New York City to a parking lot in New Jersey, where her friend got into a waiting car. Five hours later the car returned, her friend got out (sheet white and trembling, but okay), got in my mother’s car, and they drove back to the city. She went on with her life, with what residual emotion from the experience I don’t know; I do know my mother was deeply shaken by her small part in it.

And another: I remember several girls in college who got pregnant, before and after Roe. After Roe some things were the same: the secrecy, the collections taken up to help defray the cost, the sympathetic pampering when the girl returned to the dorm. But some things were very different: before Roe there was a well of secret knowledge–all I knew was that someone knew someone who knew a real doctor… and the rest of the process was shrouded in mystery, not as dire or scary as my mother’s friend’s experience, but sufficiently clandestine. After Roe, if memory serves, you had to cross the state line to reach a state where the procedure was legal. But there were official resources on campus which could explain and expedite the process. Still expensive, still vaguely clandestine, but without the gloss of criminality which made a bad situation terrifying.

And one more: mine. Continue reading “Three Stories”…