The voice of Amanda

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Abortions and the Holocaust

Did I really just have to explain the difference between abortion and the Holocaust to several people? Do people truly think like this? Maybe to rational folks with the ability to look deeply at social issues and history it seems obvious, but I found there are those who have yet to reach this point.

First and foremost, my opinion on abortion does not stem from a religious upbringing. I was raised with God in my life, but my parents wanted me to come to my own conclusions about what happens after we die. They taught me morals, decency, humanity and independent thought. I thank them very much for this.

I suppose for those raised in an ultra-Christian home, the message might have been a little different. Do I think all Christians are extreme? No, of course not. I would identify as Christian….maybe agnostic…but I have taken a broader glance at the meaning of religion and saw the ultimate message of living your life the best you can, helping those in need and finding peace and comfort in the idea of a benevolent creator. I do not act the way I do to seek reward for a golden afterlife- I do it as a human to have a better existence for myself and my fellow humans.

I see the ultra-Christian passing judgment and condemning women for a terribly personal and life-changing choice. In my sense of religion, this feels wrong. How can we know what God is thinking about that person? How could we ever know the circumstances and emotions of another person’s life and feel so high and mighty as to call them a murderer, comparing them to Hitler?

Let’s head back to the topic of abortion and the Holocaust. Since it obviously needs some clarifying for some, I will make it easy.

The victims of the Holocaust were breathing, thinking fully formed humans with a history and footprint on the world. They endured atrocities for lengths of time, ranging from starvation, humiliation, experimentation, disease and emotional mind fucks. Their families were ripped apart. Their loss has echoed through generations, creating a wound that still seeps down through family trees.

An aborted fetus is a collection of cells that has yet to form into a coherent viable form. The impact is felt in the woman who has to make the choice, not on a global level like the Holocaust. That cell cluster did not breathe, did not think, did not know or understand what was happening to it. Look at a child who is abused to death and tell me it’s the same thing.

Hitler is recognized in history as an evil and over zealous person with a hatred for the Jews (and others who were deemed “different”) so that he strategically starved, tortured, experimented and ravaged millions of them. Pro choice people are not in any way close to this. It’s insanity to even make that comparison. Our belief is that a woman has the right to what happens in her body and in her life, a choice that is hers to make and no one else’s. To listen to some, pro choice people are rounding up babies and hacking them with a machete. That is ludicrous.

If Christians are so adamantly pro life, I wonder why we have so many children who have already been born who lack food, shelter, stability and sometimes love. What about those children? Why do I not hear impassioned cries for them? Why do I not see signs protesting the miserable condition of their already existing life? Why is there a need to bring more children into situations of neglect? If I saw more Christians opening their hearts and homes, I’d be a little more eager to listen to them and take their shit seriously.

In my discussions, I also saw the underlying implications that the pregnancy was punishment for the woman engaging in sexual acts. Yikes. That’s a can of worms.

To summarize, it is so outrageously offensive to people who have lost family members in the Holocaust to compare their history with a woman choosing to end her own pregnancy. The legal system thankfully recognizes this, and as long as rational people continue to outrank on this issue, things will remain that way.


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So my cat died

I found out today that one of my family cats was put down. For a moment I thought I had grown up so much because I could take the information without crying (I am a total animal lover and somewhat sentimental). Just as I was about to move on with my day, it hit me. The emotions were complex and intricate in a way that extended beyond the death of a cat.

I moved away from Idaho about three and a half years ago. The distance from my family has been tolerable but sometimes lonely. No matter how much my mother may claim otherwise, the place I called home for so long is not mine anymore. The pets I had as a child are now dying, and with them a piece of my childhood. I now have a place and pets of my own, a job, bills, responsibility. The home I go back to will be much quieter and the memories will be much older.

I’m not afraid of growing older and growing up necessarily, but I am nostalgic for a time when I was innocent and unaware of how difficult the world actually is. I also have to face the sad truth that everything and everyone eventually dies. I think I broke down at the fact I wasn’t as sad as I have been in the past when my animals died. It just goes to show that the tragedies become relative with age, and I have reached an age where I understand and can be okay with something that once would have devastated me.

With that thought, I put dear old Max the cat to rest in my mind.