I don’t seek to glorify myself. I come from a long line of Americans with a deep sense of justice, and my small act of courage pales in comparison to those of men like George Washington, Andrew Carnegie, or George Patton. However, I still feel my story needs to be told. Not out of pride, but out of a desire to inspire others to begin doing the same.
Girls are always overreacting about something, especially in the locker room. Before Phys-Ed class on Friday, I walked in on a group of senior girls discussing something said in their Government class earlier that week. “I even told my therapist about what she said!” one girl exclaimed. It was that moment that I tuned in. “Like, how can you be so inconsiderate?” they continued.
“[The teacher] even asked her ‘what if a 12-year-old is raped?’” I gathered that it was about abortion. A senior friend of mine had reliably informed me before that their teacher never got involved in the rare debates students had in their AP Government class, so I knew this was a big deal.
“Okay, like, I get it that people can have their opinions, and I respect that, but–” one of them began, only to be interjected by another: “honestly, no, I can’t even respect that! I mean, no exceptions?”
That was my breaking point. I’m not usually one to offer my contrarian view on my liberal peers’ banter uninvited. Part of being as wise as a serpent but innocent as a dove is to know when to speak, and when to spectate. If people know you, sometimes your mere presence can be enough of a moderator in their conversation, as they're not as apt to call a Conservative a derogatory name if one is standing within earshot. Without an ounce of hesitation, I stepped in, saying, “I’m pro-life even with the exceptions.”
I’ve always been open about my beliefs. Maturing as a Conservative girl in a Liberal world is realizing that if the odd man out is always afraid to speak on his beliefs, the “close-minded, bigoted, outdated” caricature of a Conservative is only exacerbated.
Stunned, their mouths hung wide open, gawking at a junior—someone a full year younger than them—like I was “Death: the destroyer of girls.” They turned to each other, with looks of “holy crap, we're screwed,” much like the popular TV bit of “She’s right behind me, isn’t she?”
“My line of reasoning is just that-” Two girls left.
“Murder is the killing of an innocent human being,” Another followed.
“The baby in the womb is an innocent human” The third turned away.
“And therefore, abortion is murder, and therefore morally abhorrent.”
By the time I finished, only my reliable senior friend remained. “So, got any plans for the weekend?” we continued our conversation.
I like to think I kept it cool, calm and collected. But on the inside, my heart was practically beating out of my ribcage. I’m not a confrontationalist, but when it comes to the most abhorrent practice of our lifetime, I can’t stay quiet.
When hearing the Gospel every Sunday, I listen with a measure of self-discretion. There is always something to be learned from our Lord’s words, and there never fails to be something He says that makes me cringe at a certain habit of mine, or a sin recently committed. However, standing in the pew, I felt vindicated. In the moment, I knew I was speaking up for my beliefs, but on Sunday morning, I realized I was also speaking for my faith. I was speaking for every innocent baby that was created in the image and likeness of God that had been killed for simply existing.
This Sunday, the readings were oriented toward the idea that a good Christian ought to put his ultimate trust in God, and to believe in the Permanent, not the Transient. If we do this, our reward will be of such magnitude that we simply cannot comprehend. “If you speak God’s truth, you will necessarily annoy some people,” Bishop Barron assures us.
His emphasis on the necessity is incredibly important. In order to successfully plant a seed, a gardener must disturb the soil. But even further, he must first make sure the soil is fertile, and willing to foster a seed. He must know where and when to plant it. Although I may have buried that seed in parched soil, I did so with the hope that its roots will eventually find some water deep enough in the soil.
In the words of Father Mike Schmitz, ask yourself “how often will I not speak the truth that I know to be true because [I don’t] want to be excluded?” You may be excluded from the friend group in front of you, but I assure you, there is an earnest group of Americans who fight every day for the most fundamental right.
After all, if there’s one in New York, there are more around the rest of the country!
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