When antis come only once in awhile, we don’t always recognize them as antis. If they don’t have “Choose Life” license plates or stickers on their car, we will approach their cars and talk to them. I will recognize the anti I approached one morning from now on.
Me: Are you going to the abortion clinic this morning?
Anti: Do I look like I am pregnant?
Me: I wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at you.
Anti: All you have to do is look in a mirror. We are the same age.
Me: Oh, well I wouldn’t know about that.
Anti: I know you are out here helping women kill their babies.
Me: A simple “No” would have been sufficient.
There were so many things I could have said. Did she hear about the 70-year-old woman who gave birth to twins? Did she think it was okay to assume she knew my age and fertility by looking? Did she know baby is a term for post-birth? Did she realize how obnoxious she was being?
Saying any one of those things would have produced a confrontation that does nothing to minimize the chaos on the sidewalk. Instead, I walked away from the car.
The anti got out of her car with a big sign and started yelling at clients as they walked into the clinic. The refrain all morning was, “Don’t kill your baby. Don’t go in there.”
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