None of the doctors, nurses, or specialists ever breathed a word about abortion. Because twenty‐six weeks was already too late? Because it was Ohio, and the governor’s pen was constantly hovering over terrible new legislation? Because the hospital was Catholic, and in the lobby there was a statue of Jesus holding a farm animal? They never exactly knew.
It was anti‐abortion singing, led by a woman in a long, cobwebby skirt, and a man in a white collar was standing next to her with a tambourine. Behind them were two ginger- haired, freckled young men with Down syndrome, embracing each other with both arms and their cheeks pressed close.
Oh, my God, she had thought back then. As soon as our pro‐lifers figure out they can have a tambourine, it’s over.
excerpts:*Patricia Lockwood, The Winged Thing - The New Yorker
** Hundreds of copies of the LA-based guerrilla poster artist Robbie Conal’s latest work, “Supreme Injustices,” were pasted up from Venice to Los Feliz.
image here: Robbie Conal
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