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6 Ekim 2016 Perşembe

Spare us the sight of men discussing abortion – especially politicians | Emer O"Toole

Do you know what’s a relief about Hillary Clinton running for president? There’ll be no rage-inducing section in the debates when two men discuss what reproductive rights they’ll attempt to grant or deny women should they be elected.


Oh wait. I forgot about the vice-presidential debate. Darn.


My first reaction to Mike Pence and Tim Kaine’s head-to-head was to try to remember how or why anyone watched presidential debates when they were just two white guys interrupting each other. And my second, when Pence introduced the topic of abortion, was a feeling of creeping dread. These two men were about to climb into the wombs of all American women and plant their flags – an operation every bit as uncomfortable as it sounds.


Elaine Quijano, the moderator, asked both outspokenly religious candidates if they could discuss a time when they struggled to balance their faith and a public policy position. Kaine described his personal struggle in implementing the death penalty. And Pence, in an immaculate segue, talked about how he struggled to balance his faith with a Clinton policy position. On abortion.


I knew what was coming. Because I am from Ireland: a country where male abortion oration has been exalted to an art form. To give examples from just the past week (otherwise the selection would be overwhelming), on Sunday Senator Ronan Mullen wrote a column for the Irish Independent vilifying women who travel to England to terminate pregnancies with fatal abnormalities. For Mullen, these women have denied a sick baby “the dignity of being allowed to reach a natural end. The same day, Archbishop Eamon Martin warned Irish politicians “not to leave their faith outside of the door” when forming abortion policy (which, trust me, they were never planning to do anyway).


I am from a country where, earlier this year, the group Family & Life held a pro-life event in which all three speakers were men. Men who, when questioned, saw nothing strange about the gendered composition of their learned gathering. I’m from a country where national radio shows routinely exclude Irish women from debates about their reproductive rights. I knew what was coming.


Kaine would play the coveted part of the liberal man distancing himself from the immorality of abortion (he would never have one himself), yet magnanimously conceding that he does not have the political right to extend his superior moral code to women. Pence would play the righteous conservative, possessed of the political courage to back up moral convictions that, really, both men share.


Tim Kaine and Mike Pence clash on abortion at vice-presidential debate

On cue, Pence began to speak in a concerned moral tone about the horrors of late- term abortions, even though 98.7% of abortions happen before 21 weeks and, after the murder of Dr George Tiller, there are only four third-trimester abortion providers left in the entire US.


Kaine exposed the wicked ruse of this focus on late term abortion: his opponent – gasp – actually wants to ban all abortions. “Why don’t you trust women?” our liberal ally proclaimed, simultaneously purporting to personally accept Catholic teaching on the issue, ie – that life begins at conception and abortion is evil. But it’s OK, ladies, because that’s just what he thinks in his private head! He would never actually act on it. Just think it. When he looks at you.


An all male discussion of abortion is ne’er complete without some holy verses sweet. It was time for the pair to exchange quotes from the Bible. “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,” Pence intoned in the actual voice of God, leaving me to wonder if he was talking to sperm because, technically, the almighty does appear to be referencing the period before womb inhabitation.


Pence defended Donald Trump’s publicly expressed opinion that women who have abortions should be punished by saying that Trump isn’t “polished”. But never fear, Kaine was ready with, “a great quote from Matthew.” St Matthew that is. “From the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaks.” Bam! Take that conservative male abortion orator, you just got hallowed-out by the liberal guy.


The next day, a New York Times editorial commended the abortion section of the debate as “a strong moment for both candidates”, which “offered a rare glimpse of politicians intelligently exploring a fraught question”. It noted that the abortion issue has been largely absent from this campaign.


It has been largely absent only if you ignore Clinton’s consistent attention to Trump’s anti-choice rhetoric; how she proudly touts the endorsement of Planned Parenthood (the first endorsement of a primary candidate in the organization’s 100 year history); that she is running on a ticket supporting repeal of the Hyde Amendment, which blocks federal funding for abortion. The abortion issue has been absent only if you ignore the fact that Clinton is about as provocatively pro-choice as any presidential candidate has dared to be.


But Clinton’s feminist politics are beside the point somehow. What’s really exceptional is when two men bare their souls on what abortion means to them. With those pesky women out of the way, they can intelligently explore this fraught question.



Spare us the sight of men discussing abortion – especially politicians | Emer O"Toole

25 Haziran 2014 Çarşamba

Yes, I am excess fat, but spare us the cruelty this summer season | Phoebe-Jane Boyd

Macdonald

‘I suppose the details of a fat summer time are ones I accept and embrace each and every time I get a Large Mac (which is a lot more frequently than I ought to, and yet never enough).’ Photograph: Bloomberg through Getty Pictures




Summer. The time of year for barbecues, music festivals, denim hotpants, side-boob, and salt-spritzed hair. All hazy excellent exciting and younger flesh on display magazines yelling for us civilians to get prepared for “bikini season” and absolutely everyone performing their greatest to seem like individuals females gracing magazine covers.


Excuse me if I sound bitter, it truly is just due to the fact I am – I dislike it. Summertime can be the most hard three months of the 12 months if you happen to be like me. Let me describe a bit about my circumstance, which isn’t a special one particular. I am unwanted fat. My gig isn’t that bad, actually, and I am not part of a group normally considered worthy of vitriol, like, for example, paedophiles. I’m just large. Your run-of-the-mill, rotund, red-faced, glistening, uncomfortably chubby chick.


Summertime is tough for folks like me – there are the irksome physical things to struggle via, of program, this getting the season of constantly feeling slightly damp, always itchy, not becoming ready to hold my encounter unshiny and a wholesome shade shy of fire-engine red. And all this whilst parted from the security of a cardigan. There are so several “enjoyable” situations to be avoided – desperately making an attempt to head off dangerous picnic programs with pals prior to they go too far (“we can sit below that tree over there, on the grass! And we will all undoubtedly be capable to get up from the ground afterwards!”), rickety backyard seating at my nan’s house, attempting not to mainline ice-cream in public yet again.


But the other portion I discover genuinely horrible is curious, a odd side-impact – summer is open season on people of us who consider up a bit much more space in this world. Just lately a female sitting with two men, centered her glazed eyes on me and two mates who were out for our lunch break, and slurred that her buddy had just began doing work at a pie shop.


I imagined: “Please don’t say it, lady. Not in front of my pals who are kind ample to pretend they never see the extra 7 stone of me that should not be there.”


But she said: “YOU seem like you like pies, big ‘un.”


My close friends gasped and looked at me with a bit of pity, there is about three beats in which they whispered outrage as we walked away, and I mumbled: “Yeah, don’t fret – that occurs sometimes …”


Another day, I was strolling down the higher street in my village, and two young children had been heading in the direction of me – two minor blonde middle-class little ones. How sweet, I think. As we passed every other, the little girl remarked to her brother, hunting forward passively: “Gosh, she’s big, isn’t she?”


Ouch. A right hook to the (substantial) gut. But she had a level there’s no room for denial here. I suggest, there is barely any added room for her on the pavement to get previous me.


1 much more illustration: it was the hottest day of 2014 so far and my brother and I – who’s also massive – have been on our way residence. It was a wonderful day, apart from the swollen joints, salty sweat-lined pudgy faces and damp T-shirts, and we have been nearly house free. A black jeep slowed down, and a disembodied voice explained “porky” ahead of driving away. Just a wry variety of “porky”, like: “Appear, you guys, we the two know I have to say it. I’m just going to put it out there, and then go on my way.”


My brother mentioned with a shrug: “At least it only took place after nowadays,” then we went house with bags complete of ample snacks for a party.


I suppose the details of a body fat summer season are ones I accept and embrace every single time I get a Big Mac (which is far more often than I should, and however never enough), and I’m self-mindful adequate to know that becoming this large isn’t very good for me, that barbs from strangers on the street are mixed with truths. Simply because all they had been performing, all any of the people who shouted from vans, or whispered to me on public transport, or stopped on the street to say some thing, was pointing out my decision. Maybe making sure I know for sure that it is the incorrect one particular. But it really is pointless, I know. When I can not purchase clothing on the large street, I know. When my thighs rub together as I walk, I know. I am fat. And possibly that is incorrect, and looks disgusting compared with every person else out in the sun, but what need to I do throughout the summer?


Search at it this way: maybe you are not fat, but you are ugly. Or you are previous, or you happen to be stupid, you happen to be dropping your hair, or you do not seem good in a Hawaiian shirt. You will not match into summertime either, not really. So how about you regular-sized men and women give us huge ‘uns a break when you see us struggling to search like we’re entirely cozy with all this for the next 3 months. We promise we’ll go back to covering up when autumn hits.




Yes, I am excess fat, but spare us the cruelty this summer season | Phoebe-Jane Boyd