It’s a sunny day, and I’m walking to the post office.
Just as I was turning to go up the steps, a woman calls out to me. She's tall, white, carefully groomed, with a little bit of Michelle Bachmann gleaming in her eyes.
"Excuse me, Sir — would you like to sign a pro-life petition?"
I turn.
"You need to know, madam, that my mother's life was saved by a late-term abortion. I was born three years later. My brother was born a year after that. My life, my brother's life, and three children of ours were all made possible by my mother's abortion.
"You call yourself pro-life, but the things you're promoting would have ensured that my mother DIED on the operating table!" I am livid, and as a professional vocalist, I know how to project my voice and articulate. No mumbler, I.
She backs away from me. "Sir, my daughter is in the car!"
"Then your daughter needs to know that you are advocating for a policy that will kill women all over this country! You should be ashamed of yourself!" She goes around the side of her car and gets in.
I go into the post office and mail my letters. When I come back she's still there, sitting in her car. I take a picture of her car, for no particular reason, and then relax for few minutes, lean against the fence, cross my arms, and watch her intently, unsmiling.
She picks up her phone and makes a call. A minute later a police car comes; the officer goes and talks to her. Then he comes over to me.
"Is everything okay, Sir?" he asks.
"Sure," I respond. "It's a nice day, and I'm enjoying the sunshine. In a few minutes I'll walk to the library."
"That lady over there says you and she exchanged some words."
"Indeed we did, officer" I reply, smiling genially. "She was advocating for a policy that I find morally repulsive, so I explained my views to her before I went into the post office."
"She says she was concerned because she was with her daughter."
"Well, officer, I have strong feelings about the issue, but I remained polite; I did not use any offensive language, and I would never make any sort of a threat to anyone."
"She said she was worried because you took a picture of her car."
"That I did, Sir. I felt I wanted to make sure I knew who I was dealing with."
"Well, I told her that there's no law against that. If people can video me when I'm making an arrest, there's no way to stop them from taking a picture of anything they like."
Behind him I see the woman pulling out of her parking space and continuing down the road.
"Have a nice day, Sir. Enjoy your walk to the library."
"Thank you, Officer. You have a good day, too."
I walk to the library, and then come home.
That woman and her ideological ilk feel no compunction about interfering with women's lives; they'll harass abortion providers; they'll abuse people walking into PP clinics; they'll post phone numbers and photographs online; they'll arrogate the moral high ground for themselves at every opportunity. I am passionate about one long-term issue (climate) and one immediate issue (women's choice), and I am not going to just walk by and ignore this kind of shit.
A hundred and eight weeks of standing outside with a sign has significantly reduced the number of fucks I have to give about the feelings of people like this.
Update: Here is a link to my mother’s story.