My heart burns with the passionate fire of a soul who's tasted both sides of the choice coin. Born in early January '73, I was often called "lucky" - lucky Roe v. Wade hadn't landed before me. It was something I heard repeatedly growing up. "You're so lucky you were born before it passed." 💘
My childhood was filled with contradictions - a mother who sang "lucky you" one day and then preached pro-choice the next. And lots of talk about suffering and those who inflicted it on victims. It was in this petri dish of conflicting morals that I grew up, planting the seeds of questioning long before I understood their weight. 🧫
As a young teenager, I marched in anti-abortion rallies, a megaphone for beliefs I barely grasped, but was quite self rigtheous about. A solider recruited to an army I didn't fully understand that I was a part of. Fodder for the cannons. The words were so easy to chant, the rage over innocents easy to muster, the black-and-white posters and graphic phamplets designed to shock and keep our rage hot. But life, as it always does, had a way of introducing its own shades of gray. 🩶
Years later, I found myself staring at a positive pregnancy test, a third child unplanned and unwanted by my husband. We fought - around and round and round, we negotiated until finally, we landed on the supposed compromise of adoption. It was my idea, of course, and he hated it, but I wouldn't budge any further. It was supposed to be a bittersweet victory, a chance to do the right thing even though it ripped my heart in two. It was a hollow victory, a thousand paper cuts, and of course you cannot keep a marriage alive under those circumstance even though that was why I'd given in in the first place - to "save my family." 😔
Time eventually carried me to new shores. A new marriage, another child, and then a second "another" child, and then, another cruel twist of fate. The second pregnancy was shrouded in sickness. Then came the ultrasound and a sucker gut punch that left me gasping for air. This time, the choice was mine, and the weight of it crushed me once again, but in a whole new way.
The details are too raw, too personal, to share publicly. But the grief, like a stubborn weed, refuses to be uprooted and removed completely. It's a different grief than the one I carried after the adoption, but no less real. Even twenty plus years later. Yet, I choose to live in the present, to cherish the children who are here with me, and to be thankful for the life I get to live.
I do occasionally grieve for the life that might have been, a private ache I hold close. When I speak now, it is not to judge, but to ignite a mosaic of empathy in those facing their own choices. Choices that are brutally tough, and they should be personal and private. That is freedom. 🦅
We, the living and breathing, are the priority, not a theoretical future etched in one specific dogma. Our freedom, not just to procreate, but to exist with dignity and self-determination, is the true battle cry. Forcing women to choose between their bodies, their lives, their quality of lives, and their families is not freedom—it's a mosaic of suffering woven with challenging situations, with all kinds of nuanced complexities and broken hearts. It will forever lock us in a tug-of-war that cannot be won. We need a new story. 📖
My story, a single tile, joins countless others, each unique, each etched with the scars of choice. And the story should be about people. People are not pro-choice or pro-life, those are just labels and sides. And frankly, these days fund-raising, political campaigns. 🤑
People are mosaics of choices and experiences - lives built of tiles, stories etched in tears and laughter, pain and sweetness, suffering and joy. We can't accurately judge choices until we've walked someone's path, felt the fear, the hope, the despair that twists our souls into knots. and honestly, we should have enough with our own paths to not have to worry about what others are doing! 😱
Freedom shouldn't be about dictating destinies, but about respecting the choices that people face everyday- and lifting them up. But we can look at other people's tiles, their stories, and just the glimpses we get here and there, and extend grace, kindness, and compassion. 🫶
My heart burns with the hope that one day, we'll see beyond labels and ideologies thrust upon us by people who say we should all be free, but then put their idea of freedom on everyone. That we can live beyond the fear, and embrace the actual people and what makes people - their whole beautiful mosaic of choices that make us who we are. My heart burns (and aches) with the belief that a world built on empathy, not judgment, is a world worth fighting for. ✊
I'd love to know what your mosaic tile looks like. And what kind of mosaic do you wish we could build? Because in the end, it's not about taking sides, it's about taking hands and building a future where freedom isn't a privilege, but a birthright. Something we don't have to fight for, but something we just get to live. ❤️
Yours in solidarity,
Chief Moji Muser and EmojiIRL™ Creator
#emojiexpression #emojiIRL #getyourmojion #yourmatter #writeyourownstory
☮️🖖❤️😊
