This one time in the church parking lot we were talking about vasectomies. I didn’t know it at first. My friend keeps his hair long, like 1990s Chandler from Friends, so when I overheard him say, “Snip, snip” to another guy, I assumed he was making good on that overdue pledge to see my barber. “Nope,” my friend grinned, brushing stray locks out of his eyes, “I’m talking about down there.” ThenI knew. He and I both have three kids under the age of seven.
Another dude sidled over and asked what was up. The sun was sinking into the woods behind us. The children’s choir had just let out, and our kids were racing their bikes across the asphalt. We were casually talking about snipping our vas deferens.
Once he found out what we were discussing, the other dude chimed in, “I don’t know about y’all, but afterward, I had to sit with a bag of frozen peas in my lap!” His wife then looped her arm through the crook of his, as their twin daughters pedaled madly around them in small circles. She sighed, “That was the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.”
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As legislation restricting a woman’s control over her own body has passed several states, including the essential outlawing of abortion in Alabama, I have reflected upon her comment. What I can’t capture on the page was her tone. The way she spoke was not sarcastic or joking. She was just quiet and declarative, almost as if she were talking to herself. It was her truth.
“That was the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.”
I think there was relief mixed with her gratitude. Relief in knowing she could avoid the heavy cramping and severe bleeding, migraines and mood swings often associated as side effects of birth control options available to her. Relief in knowing she could avoid the more invasive and costly surgical procedure upon her fallopian tubes.
But there’s something else to hear as I reflect gently between her words.
In the church parking lot, the guys and I spoke openly about our reproductive choices without shame. Even with a little bravado. We were posturing, actually, because control is really just an illusion. But to hear us talk, there was never any question that we were in charge of our own bodies. Medical procedures were our right. The choice was ours. The same cannot be said for our wives. Legislators, mostly men, seek to control their bodies, even though men cause 100% of unwanted pregnancies.
“That was the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.”
In balance, how much does a bag of peas cost in comparison to her peace of mind?
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This one time in the church parking lot we were talking about vasectomies. The air was humid and we relaxed in relief from a slight breeze. Then the pack of our people under the age of seven peddled past on their bikes, their sturdy little legs chugging like pistons. My oldest son slammed on his brakes: “You know what, Daddy? It sure would help if there were more Mommies!”
In lieu of cloning, we men we should join the fight. Fight to overturn the laws that legislate women’s bodies. Fight the double standards that silence women in churches and other communities of faith. Not only should we seek the liberation of women’s bodies, we should be responsible for our own bodies for the good of our society, for the good of our children, and for the women we love.
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This post has been republished to Medium.
Photo: iStock
Um, that should read “fallopian” tube. Clearly, I still need to do a lot of listening.