In my opinion – which I say is humble to keep you happy – the arguments for the blanket legalization of abortion always miss one point: responsibility.
On Thursday, the 20th of September, I read Bimbo Adelakun’s strident denunciation of the hordes of conservatives who have pitched a tent outside the walls of Rochas Okorocha’s government, in siege, hoping to ram down the gates of the abortion law Rochas’ government endorsed. Her very brilliant column occupies the back pages of Thursday Punches.
Religious and cultural conservatives can be idiots at times. She makes some good points but the points she did not make were the most important ones. I must add that I am neither conservative nor remotely interested in what plays out in Imo State. I also would imagine that I naturally love to satisfy the “physiological need” called sex, provided that I find cooperative enough female co-indulgers (although I generally prefer that they find me). I mention it so that somebody does not label me what I’m not. My values generally lean liberal although on abortion, they tend towards conservative but crucially, not for the same reasons as religious and cultural conservatives.
Bimbo Adelakun neglects to mention that this is 2013, not the Stone Ages. Sex and pregnancy can be mutually exclusive. There are a number of ways for a girl to get herself fucked dribbling all day for two consecutive weeks without ending up with a rotund stomach, the most ancient of which is the risky withdrawal method. But mistakes do happen, I agree. Which is why there is such a thing as a condom, and I hear from reliable sources that a certain Postinor does good things in the prevention of pregnancies. But I don’t know anything about that. Having ignored modernity (which is why our cultural values can be liberal in the first place), we then seek to abdicate from responsibility by killing a growing human being.
There are those who will pause and say: “Nah mehn, it’s a fucking foetus”. No, you are calling a dog a bad name to flush it. The development of the foetus is important to the development of that man who is now 80 years old, whose teeth are now as jittery as a house of cards and who has white hair peeking out of his nose and ears. I like to see the entire process of human development as linear as no one would be born if the initial stages were skipped, regardless of the fact that we only assign age from the day the child escapes all that nonsense (good nonsense, but nonsense still) he or she has been subjected to for nine months. Therefore, for me, the central dogma of the biological development of the human is something like this:
Fucking -> The New York Marathon -> Fertilization -> Zygote -> Embryo -> Foetus -> Birth -> Parasitism -> “God, sex!!!” -> Death -> Mystery
Only one man is said to have been born without the funnest stage. I will allude to Him in song:
His name is higher
Than every ooother name
The point is: humans tend to abdicate from responsibility at every slightest opportunity. It was him. It was the devil. It was a mistake. It was the past governments. It was the professor. Pass the buck. Neglecting the potential dangers of unprotected sex, you have no excuse getting pregnant if you don’t want to. I believe resorting to abortion having made “a mistake” is the gold medal level of irresponsibility. If for practical reasons you don’t want a baby, make sure you don’t get a baby. Of course this excludes abhorrent situations like rape and incest etc. At the end of the day however, you’ll do exactly as you please. So…
This brings me to another topic, namely: boiled fish.
I detest boiled fish. I think people who eat them from Pluto, and people who set about the head of a boiled fish with relish from outside the solar system. How can anyone withstand such slime and such smell? Yuck. This is why in my house, by the powers conferred on me by virtue of being the last foetus born, we don’t eat boiled fish. Not since I could protest. And nobody ever cooks soup or stew with it, except the cook plans to cook stuff twice – a separate pot for me. Thankfully, no one thought to threaten me with having me cook my own pot of stew by myself. Nice people.
That said, I also hate boiled chicken because it smells and feels like I’m eating live, uncooked chicken from which the feathers were only plucked five minutes ago. No matter what you cook it with. I agree with you: my nose needs reining-in. If boiled chicken were the last food in the world, I would eat it. But not boiled fish. Never boiled fish. I’d rather eat my fat friend’s intestines in that case. But I tolerate the boiled-fish eaters as long as they don’t touch me with their fish. Practically everybody outside of myself enjoys boiled fish and that includes every member of my family and my bosom friends. My dislike for boiled fish is so renowned that every home I spend some time in realizes my tastes or curiously find their dogs or cats getting fatter. But I have not denounced or disowned anyone because they enjoy boiled fish.
This is how I feel about sex between boys gay as a Beckham freekick and gay rights. Boys, because girls are always right. I don’t understand what gay boys derive from erm… doing each other but hey, whatever rocks your boat, man. I also take offence to anyone attempting to disingenuously recruit me to fight their cause. I don’t give a fuck… literally and figuratively. I reserve my right to see you as human whilst also detesting your sexual preferences, just like I detest how people eat boiled fish. I hate how people demand that everyone tiptoe around them just because there’s something different to them. And this is not a veiled reference to feminists.
Also, in return, you can detest the fact that I prefer to align centres with girls, or that I am short. Fine by me.
The other day, one commenter on Ayo Sogunro’s piece about Nigeria’s anti-gay laws barracked me for having the temerity to announce my tolerance for lesbian sex and disdain for male-male sex; the other day some feminist types barracked Obama for expressing his honest admiration for the beauty of a female District Attorney or something – what the fuck is wrong with the world?
In conclusion, as Suspekt omo Peteru says on Chidinma’s Emi Ni Baller, iniyanyainyainyayainyainyaniyaniya.