I am enraged, again, with this story about the pro-life righteous, religious, right-wing-nutters in the USA.
Is there no end to other people deciding how a woman comes to a decision about seeking an abortion? I'm beginning to realize that all the die hard pro-lifers seem to believe that a woman thinks 'Ho-hum, I'm pregnant. I better find an abortion clinic and get rid of the damn thing.'
Where are the 'fathers' in the picture? Why aren't they hauled in and made accountable for THEIR actions? Is there any pregnancy without a male partner, artificially inseminated or not?
Having lived through the era when it was a criminal offence for a woman to seek an abortion, I am livid to see this ugly hatred for women who choose to control their own bodies and destinies returning.
I recommend you read the whole article and follow the links provided.
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Showing posts with label Human Rights. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Human Rights. Show all posts
16 September 2010
05 July 2009
Church Flies Gay-Pride Flag
This atheist has always had a soft spot for the United Church of Canada. Here is one reason why.
One of my few fond memories of childhood involves the UCC. As a foster child, I attended craft classes in one of their lovely old stone churches in Toronto. The people there never, not once, tried to indoctrinate me. As a result, I felt welcome.
One memory is of being in an upper room, my head bent to my task, and the sun shining through a narrow leaded window on my right, lending comfort, light and warmth. That day, I relaxed long enough to paint and to let go of some of the unhappiness and stress I always carried with me.
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A church might not be the most likely place to see a gay pride flag flying, but that's exactly what's happening at the James Bay United Church.
The church, part of the United Church of Canada, raised the rainbow flag in honour of Pride Week, which ends today with a parade downtown. It's the first year the church has decided to display the flag.
One of my few fond memories of childhood involves the UCC. As a foster child, I attended craft classes in one of their lovely old stone churches in Toronto. The people there never, not once, tried to indoctrinate me. As a result, I felt welcome.
One memory is of being in an upper room, my head bent to my task, and the sun shining through a narrow leaded window on my right, lending comfort, light and warmth. That day, I relaxed long enough to paint and to let go of some of the unhappiness and stress I always carried with me.
Recommend this post
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