I thought I could write about this, but I can’t. I thought I could turn my anger into humor, make some jokes about the contraceptive choices of those men on the Oversight Committee. I thought I could ask some interesting questions.
But every time I get near this subject, it’s like barbed wire. My voice rises. I start sprinkling my sentences with curse words. I get sarcastic and vitriolic. I write and talk in absolutes.
This (I can’t even write what “this” is without pounding the keys) is important to me, but it’s not a subject I can converse on without getting angry, and I hate being angry.
This will have to suffice: I’ve been here. I’ve done this debate on birth control. I never thought I’d have to do it again.