DISCLAIMER: If you are pro-forced birth, you should likely stop reading now. Or, more truthfully, unsubscribe. Because you can’t be sex positive and not uphold the rights of body autonomy and ignore the unbalanced risk that sex places on women. If you don’t believe in body autonomy, then you can not be sex positive. And if you’re not sex positive, this is not the place for you.
I am not okay.
As an American with a uterus, the last week has been rough. The visceral level of anger and fear and betrayal I’ve experienced have surprised me and left my nervous system completely unregulated.
If you’d told me last year that I would be lying awake at night because of Roe V. Wade, I’d have said that you were fucking crazy.
Yet here I am.
The other night, thoughts heavy on my mind, I angry fucked my Husband. Like angry fucked Him. Not because I was mad at Him. Not because we had a fight and needed make-up sex.
No, I was angry at the SCOTUS. I was angry at the people who decided that women’s body autonomy is not an intrinsic right. That they determined their morals override a woman’s ability to control her life.
And I was fucking pissed that they’ve already said they won’t stop there. That the right to contraception, bedroom privacy, and marriage equality are on the line. All things the government shouldn’t be involved in anyway.
So I fucked the shit out of my Husband.
I used the very thing they want to control, the very thing that makes them want to control women, to take out my frustration.
And after it was over, I collapsed on top of His chest. As my breath and heart rate started to calm, emotions overwhelmed me, and I started to sob. He held me tight and when we separated, and I rolled onto my back next to Him, He asked if I was okay.
I replied that I was just feeling a lot of feelings. He rolled over to look at me.
I laughed. “No, not about us.”
He looked concerned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“You’re not angry with me?”
“No, babe. It has nothing to do with you. Or us. I promise.”
And I realized that although we had talked about the overturning of Roe multiple times over the previous days, even though He’d seen me being a keyboard warrior, making all my far-right family pray for me…
He didn’t quite get it.
That He would be dumbfounded and utterly confused if I told Him my tears were because of Dobbs, especially when He and I are both fixed and live in a state that isn’t restricting access (yet, as there are pending bills that could totally change that).
Not because He doesn’t support Roe. He does. But I don’t think any human born with a penis can truly understand. Y’all can empathize. You can be supportive. But you can’t really ever understand what it’s like to be someone with a uterus.
Someone who is at risk every time they have sex to have it become a life-changing event.
To have the risk of pregnancy, even if you’re trying to be safe. To have the risk of being sex shamed and ostracized because you “opened your legs.”
To have your reputation, your education, and your career on the line when you have sex.
Every. Single. Time.
While you can rationally understand, you can never truly know what it’s like. You have never had that burden or obligation placed on you. And you never will.
I don’t know if people with penises heard the whispered horror stories of the time before Roe. Stories of back-alley, coat-hanger abortions. Of abortions given without consent. Of babies left in garbage cans. Of having someone hit you repeatedly in the stomach because you were so dreadfully afraid of what would happen if not.
All because women didn’t have a choice.…
These were the stories of our mothers and grandmothers and now these will be the future stories of us and our daughters.
That night, laying there as my Husband fell asleep, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. All I wanted to do was scream at the top of my lungs. Scream until I didn’t have a voice left.
Because so much more than my voice has already been taken.
And I am not okay.