Rob vs Moms Everywhere

Lyrics from ‘Wishin and Hopin’ by songwriters Hal David + Burt Bacharach in “My Best Friends Wedding” Soundtrack:

All you gotta do is hold him,

And kiss him,

And squeeze him,

And love him,

Yeah Just do it,

And after you do,

You will be his.

Show him that you care

Just for him

Do the things

That he likes to do

Wear your hair

Just for him

'Cause, you won't get him

Thinkin' and a prayin'

Wishin' and a hopin'

The father of two kids I babysat years ago came home once alone, his wife still out, took off his shirt, sat on the couch, and told me to stay a while. He brushed over some general topics with his nipples exposed, and out of no where asked: Do mother’s ever get jealous of you?  Unsure of what he meant, I remarked on the amount of time I spend with kids. No, I’m not talking about the kids, I mean do they ever worry that their husbands are going to do something to you? I smiled and laughed because what else was I supposed to do with his two year old daughter sleeping in the next room. He followed it up with, well because, I mean, you got big tits.  Right. Big tits. Which makes this what, acceptable? He handed me a $140 for a few hours. More than enough to keep you coming back as a college student. Owned Fat Baby where he paid me under the table as a hostess, Los Feliz, The Derby and Mason Dixon in the LES. Spritzenhouse in Williamsburg. A washed up ex fashion photographer who harassed the wait staff and nannies.  In another moment when I brought up a babysitter friend of mine, as asked casually in front of his wife, well does she have a good ass?  She laughed as if on cue and teased him like there was toothpaste on his chin. The same secret club I was already a member of. Laugh, smile, give, wipe the invisible mess. Silly goose.

The part that haunts my heavy body 15 years later along side the weight of overturning Roe v Wade, is the focus of that interaction.  On the Mothers. Getting jealous. Worrying. Do they ever worry that their husbands are going to do something to you? You are doing something to me. The sentence is structured as if worrying is the problem here. The verb being activated in the living room with his half naked body - was the absence of worry. The absence of care, consideration of his wife, daughter, son, me and any ethical morale.  It’s called harassment wrapped in gaslighting. He framed his perversion inside the responsibility of a woman.  Mother’s are the worriers.  Wives are getting jealous.  Men are just taking what they want.  I learned the rules early.

In Latin, abort translates to “not come into being”.  Which begs the question what doesn’t come into being when what you call life, we call labor. When what you call a Saturday night flirting with a nanny, we swallow with embarrassment, deny it’s impact, and consume its narrative.  To laugh, a no big-deal smile. I can handle the pervert and the politician. The labor, miscarriage, and abortion.  The breast-feeding and the raising.  The condoms’ too uncomfortable story. The money for Plan B. The physical insertion of an IUD. The emotional labor of carrying the conversation around contraception.

The pussy grabber, some called a president and his posse of judges voted for the abortion of human rights.  By voting against a persons right to choose the life-long commitment of pregnancy, they are aborting the possibility of a just and joyous nation.  Pro-life by definition of the words means you care about life and support it economically, socially, and emotionally. Pro-life means you compassionately consider the beings of all eco-systems, are committed to the climate crisis, means you put your narcissism aside for the sack of the common good.  If anyone is advertising themselves as anti-abortion, they are actually aborting the possibility of a sustainable union. They are aborting gender reconciliation. Aborting liberation from embodiment with our bodies and the land.

But you got big tits.  And what I should have said was, what an astute observation, where you thinking about that while sipping your $200 wine next to your wife before you left her or did that just come to you now half naked with your two year old daughter in the next room - you big dick.

A few days after the rally where I watched an elder step out of the f train with her reproductive rights sign wearing the age of time and repetition, my mom expressed concern over the phone about my dad.   They haven’t communicated since the devastating divorce beside arguing in the hospital when I was 19 and briefly at my sisters wedding - but still some 47 years after they starting dating at 17, she expresses concern for him having a seizure while we drive to Boston.  If he starts, just take the wheel and find the brake with your foot. The initial pang of annoyance struck, yeah, yeah, yeah, I say inside and then something else took over.  I visualized taking the wheel, reaching my left foot over the center console and putting my foot on the right pad. Her point separated from all the others was care sitting on a ledge even after all these years.  Worrying is what we call women.  I swore to be carefree, meaning take it all on and make it look easy.

What comes into being when responsibility is shared. Imagine the potential peak of complimentary companionship, how so many wrongs can pivot to something in the direction of right. Imagine the sexes reconciled in a society.  A power so strong it evolves not just their own species but all of them.

In the case of Rob vs Moms Everywhere:

All I gotta do is not hold you, if that means I’m not holding the dignity of myself

And love me

And maybe one day

You will too

And we will be ours

Photo: Collage of photos and newspaper clipping