A Wombman's Choice

Preface: In this article, I use the word "women" when referring to people who have uteruses. I do this because unfortunately, those governing our bodies only have the capacity to operate in the binary. This is not for ease of communication—I use the word "women" to emphasize the misogyny at work.

TRIGGER WARNING: This is EXTREMELY triggering. Not only for cishet white men facing self awareness issues (eye roll) but for those who have had traumatic sexual experiences, and birth/abortion experiences. Please read with care.

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Not many people are aware of the miserable fact that cows must be pregnant in order to produce milk. Yes. Those cows you think just casually create milk for fun don't actually have a spontaneous milk-making superpower.

The stuff of ice creams. Decadent yogurts. The best parts of the charcuterie board, sloppy cheese pizzas—these indulgences are all a product of the forced pregnancies dairy cows must endure for as long as their fertile bodies are deemed "useful". These creatures exist to produce. To produce milk. To produce more cows that will produce more milk. And so on. We use fertility across species to ensure the human race not only succeeds, but thrives. Our women are an integral part of that. And, just like on a farm, there is a certain power structure, dynamic and amount of control keeping our system in place.

Woman—the delicate, weak, feminine and lesser version of man, operates only as a vessel for other human life. If we cannot restrict her to that duty, the system fails.

However, in order to do so, they must commit the most egregious and disgustingly unlady-like act: S-E-X.

Having sex is the most sullying act of a woman's existence. For this reason, she must bear the scarlet letter of a swollen belly around the world so that all will know exactly what she did to earn that bump. She must literally carry her shame wherever she goes, for all to see and all to judge. Those that see her will know that she failed to follow that old southern rule of "staying off her back and keeping both feet on the floor."

See her and learn from her: Leaving your legs ajar leads to consequences, and those consequences can last a lifetime. Whatever walks through an open door was invited and welcomed, so don't feel bad—feel righteous! She did this to herself, and herself alone. Man plays no guilty party in this! Temptation is a woman's fault, and afterall, a man's duty in this world is to spread his seed. To provide! To provide semen! Semen for all!

That little sin will grow in her womb and once it is ready to burst, she takes on the next phase of punishment—expelling a watermelon sized human from her grape sized hole. She opened her legs to let someone in, and now she must open her legs to let another out. Giving into temptation for a few hot moments of lust and pleasure...the only fair trade is to endure the hours of labor and trauma that await her. This living thing will now embody her mistakes. This creature will be the symbol of her sinful deflowering—her blaspheming devirginization. That act that for which only a woman alone can be held responsible.

However, this little seed that grew from sin is precious. It is life. And that little one will be given its second chance at purity. After it has passed through the canal of abundant sin, it can be washed away in the river by ritual. The one who passed that giant kidney stone of a human, though, is marred forever.

Any new visitors to walk through her open door will see that someone has been there before. Her scars, stretch marks, and matured breasts will give her away—she has been used. The extra weight she can't seem to shake will also be a continued reminder to her of what she did.

But this life that came of lust is a godsend. Bless this child, and bless the earth. Bless the little boys to come from her womb, that will roam the world like free range sheep. And bless the little girls, too, with their virginal innocence! May they never become women—women with urges.

Keep them young, keep them scared,

Keep them in their underwear.

Watch her grow,

Tell her no.

"Don't do this,"

Daddy said so.

Tell her you can read her mind,

Tell her "it" will make her blind.

Tell her virtue makes her sweet,

Make her worship you and wash your feet.

Daddy's little baby girl,

Gatekeeper, Goalie

Of her little pearl.

Women with temptful looks, with breasts she sprung herself from witchcraft to charm others to take what they believe is theirs. Women who manipulate the man through a gaze, while her words tell lies about what she wants and doesn't want. She can't even decide on what she wants for a meal, how could she decide what she wants to do with her body?

Men, however, are powerful. Smart. Decision makers. They take what they want—Jobs. Money. Space. "No" is not a word that can't be convinced to become a "yes"—or at least something that resembles it from their perspective.

Yield to no one.

Push for more.

Never let them walk out the door.

These great men, however, can't be their greatest selves without the great women that stand behind them. Misogyny is actually quite feminist, in that, it can be for anyone. It isn't exclusive to men—it lives inside of those who believe deeply enough— just like the holy spirit.

Pregnancy is wholesome and beautiful. Not only is it tangible proof that a man has successfully spread his seed, but it makes a woman's body glow. Her painfully engorged mommy milkers create yet another beautiful sight for the world to see. She is slower and restricted. Unable to move in ways she did before. Tired. Sore. Constipated. Nauseous. Are these side effects? No! Those feelings and "symptoms" are simply a reflection of the weakness of a woman's body. Ah, the miracle of life. Anyways. Who cares about that? Especially when the end result is a gooey, crying baby.

Post-partum depression is a state of mind that can be overcome! Welcome, welcome, suicidal thoughts! Once a woman's spawn has been born, and she has borne all she can, if the lord can't save her, may the devil receive her in his warm arms.

But, she was born for this! To bear the fruit of the earth. And, as the world and its capitalistic needs continue to increase, may she never forget her God-given duty. This privilege—this divine right—this uterus—It is His. And it is her duty. Her duty to be split from pussy to asshole through hours of labor, for God's will! (I guess the apple Eve chose that day didn't actually keep the doctor away.)

In the event she cannot afford to feed the child, however, she must make a choice.

Choice #1: Abstain from sex! Sex is not for the poor. Sex is for the rich! For those with resources.

Choice #2: Bear the child and the burden of pregnancy and trauma of birth. Then, sell it to the rich! Did your milk come in? Provide it to the rich mothers who cannot and don't want to breastfeed themselves! Don't forget to remember the baby you sold each time you pump.

Choice #3: Do neither of the above, and become even poorer! And also become a scapegoat for society about leeching from government resources, because if you just worked harder instead of whoring around, you could make it work! Praise!

For those of us who have uteruses, I apologize.

I am sorry the world can't see that we are capable of making our own choices. That, there are safe and logical answers right in front of us, but those in power make and keep those solutions unavailable to us.

I am sorry for those of us whose paths will be changed, and afraid for those whose paths will be made shorter because of health decisions made for us, instead of by us. I am sorry the world can't be better. And even sorrier that I don't have all the money in the world to change it.

Abortion is healthcare. Bodily Autonomy is real.