Three male abortion doctors by michelle tea!!






you know, the three abortion doctors
shot were men, ok? they were men.
maybe yiou should just think about that.
i had just ended a poem
about the way little boys..........hit........little girls,
when i feel these thick fingers poking
at my shoulder blade and the angry
man behind me starts yelling about...male....abortion....doctors.
I am having a hard time understanding
the point he is trying to make: is it
that men are sacrificing themselves
in droves
for the noble cause of
womyn's reproductive rights?
is he saying that men
are the real victims
of this abortion war
or is he just a man
whose quilt clangs
like a church bell
when he hears the truth
of a womyns experience?
think about it, he yells it with meaning,
like the words could rock my world,
could change my life and i like
challenges, i cant say no to a dare,
i think about the men
who are dead now
because thier lives were spent scraping
those tumorlike pieces of flesh
from the insides of womyn's bodies and
if you want to know the truth,
i am a bit suspicious of the doctors,
and the half-knowledge they tug around like gold
and i am a bit suspicious of male doctors
who, my mother told me, see hundreds of
naked bodies all the time and its just a body,
they don't think anything of it and sorry,
i never bought it, like doctors
are immune to misogyny like doctors
don't buy pornography and rent whores
like doctors were spared the upbringing
that works a womyn into something to fuck
own and control and i am thinking
about three male abortion doctors
and i am thinking about control,
like a control of a mans hand aiming a pistol,
the control of a man's hand entering  a womyns body,
the control men have over womyns lives, because
if you ask me to look at this scene
a man with a lot of personal control
over womyns bodies
was killled
by a man who wants more personal control
over womyns...

Three male abortion doctors by michelle tea!!






you know, the three abortion doctors
shot were men, ok? they were men.
maybe yiou should just think about that.
i had just ended a poem
about the way little boys..........hit........little girls,
when i feel these thick fingers poking
at my shoulder blade and the angry
man behind me starts yelling about...male....abortion....doctors.
I am having a hard time understanding
the point he is trying to make: is it
that men are sacrificing themselves
in droves
for the noble cause of
womyn's reproductive rights?
is he saying that men
are the real victims
of this abortion war
or is he just a man
whose quilt clangs
like a church bell
when he hears the truth
of a womyns experience?
think about it, he yells it with meaning,
like the words could rock my world,
could change my life and i like
challenges, i cant say no to a dare,
i think about the men
who are dead now
because thier lives were spent scraping
those tumorlike pieces of flesh
from the insides of womyn's bodies and
if you want to know the truth,
i am a bit suspicious of the doctors,
and the half-knowledge they tug around like gold
and i am a bit suspicious of male doctors
who, my mother told me, see hundreds of
naked bodies all the time and its just a body,
they don't think anything of it and sorry,
i never bought it, like doctors
are immune to misogyny like doctors
don't buy pornography and rent whores
like doctors were spared the upbringing
that works a womyn into something to fuck
own and control and i am thinking
about three male abortion doctors
and i am thinking about control,
like a control of a mans hand aiming a pistol,
the control of a man's hand entering  a womyns body,
the control men have over womyns lives, because
if you ask me to look at this scene
a man with a lot of personal control
over womyns bodies
was killled
by a man who wants more personal control
over womyns bodies, well,
i just see men,
stretched out in lines like highways
their hands filled with guns,
with speculums, with paychecks
penises, power, control and where
are the womyn
who lie with legs spread, waiting
for the man to undo the damage done
by the last man the legs were spread for
and her fight inside,
hacking at people
like they were heavy jungle weeds
blocking her trail and the womyn
who help her cut through,
sharp womyn with dagger tongues
and scythes for hands and
there are womyn in this picture,
somewhere,
womyn doctors and womyn patients,
womyn who find the whiteness
of hospital walls and men
too alienating, womyn
who find the prices and laws
to impossible
and those womyn dont need
a man's gun
to end this abortion debate
they've got coathangers,
closets full,
and i'm sorry
that this is all your challenge inspired,
just more anger from one of those tired,
angry womyn always bitching about men
and the way they rape, the way they control,
they way they project infinite scenarious
with a single hey baby
i'm sorry bruno g.
but this is all i could do