How to Deal with Hatred?

Four coffees for four people

I've come to expect "baby killer." I still haven't gotten used to the whole, "You should have killed yourself" or "You should be sterilized" or "You should have your tongue ripped out." But these attacks are typically on twitter, where people can see my avatar, and not actually me. It's safe to attack people in other states.

This morning, I organized some friends, rounded them up around 8am, and headed south to Portland. From there, we took a small coffee break, a small potty break, and found Planned Parenthood. There were already a few protesters lining the street. The rain was coming down in sheets.

I wasn't there for an abortion this time, but the sight of them crawled into my veins like shards of glass mixed with fire ants. Children, younger than their teen years, were holding signs of what they dubbed "Aborted Fetuses."

I was in the state of Maine. Rain was pouring down my face. Yet, for a split second, I was in Virginia on a sunny day, shaking as a friend wrapped her arm around me and whispered, "Don't listen to them, honey. Don't listen."

The caffeine kicked into my system, and I started shaking. My friends and I pulled out our signs:

"We Support You" "Honk for Choice" and "Planned Parenthood Saved My Life"

Immediately the tension in the air rose like a vibration from an amp that had just been turned on. It was almost tangible. I wasn't sure if we were going to get hurt, assaulted, or just verbally attacked. Cars began to honk for the honk for choice sign. People walked by and high fived us. And then the gentleman to the left of this picture began to call us "Willfully ignorant" even after I explained, "Sorry, actually. I know exactly what happens. I had an abortion, but thanks."

From there, he continued to insult us. Women walked passed us with the greeters while protesters accosted them. A representative from Planned Parenthood stepped out and said that it's hard for women entering the clinic to differentiate signs of support from signs of hate and malice. We decided to move across the street, where more people high fived us and honked.

And the protesters began to yell across the street, "Why did you move? Are you scared of us?!"

"We're not scared," I hollered back. "We just don't want to look like YOU."

She yelled for a few more minutes before finally giving up. Our signs began to run (turns out when Crayola says "Washable paint" they ain't kiddin). When Honk for Choice was no longer visible, and Your Body, Your Choice leaked onto the street, we called it a day.

I've spent all day going over this in my mind. My friends and I weren't there to spread hate, rather an environment of acceptance, and support for women who may be there on the worst day of their lives. It's hard for me to separate the hatred and anger I feel from my abortion experience and protesters, to what's currently happening.

I accept people have freedom of speech. I accept that they may be awful people. But it's one thing to verbally attack someone online. It's an entirely different thing to attack someone as she's walking, with her head down, through doors you may never enter.

So my question is, how do you deal with that kind of hatred?

Reality Check V: My Generation III

In case you've managed to live in a hole for all of your years of existence, you should know that people are killing us. Not by guns (though that happens, too), or bombs, but by our food.

My generation has sat idly by, "Waiting on the world to change," as John Mayer said. But the unrest has become tangible. We've started the Occupy movement. We've started fighting for women's rights. And finally, we're taking on Monsanto and saying no to GMOs.

In Portland, Maine, the street was LINED with protesters holding signs, chanting, singing. There were people giving out signs for those who didn't make one. Hundreds of people showed up for this event.

Some lined the roads, holding their signs so traffic could read them. We rejoiced when cars honked, and cheered, and high-fived us.

I arrived late and didn't have time to
make a sign. They gave me a bee :)

Months ago, I started to become disappointed with my generation, about how we don't do anything but sit there. Before we set off, speakers talked about the effects of Agent Orange on the Vietnam Soldiers. They told us about the effects of our food being poisoned, linking diabetes, cancers, infertility, and birth defects to the things put in our food and into our bodies.

During the police escorted, mile long March Against
Monsanto, I became proud of my generation. Voices echoed off the surrounding buildings. The line of marchers was so long I couldn't see the start or the end, I could just hear voices shouting, "No more GMOs!" and "Hey, Hey, Ho, Ho, Monsanto's Got To Go!"

People were stuck at stop lights because of our march. Bystanders took pictures and cheered us on. We disrupted daily life. We brought awareness. We're rallying for change.

It's time to stand up for ourselves.

It's time to stand up for our food, for our rights to know what we're eating. It's time to create change.

The next time you go to your grocery store, you may want to ask yourself, "Do I really know what's in this?" before buying it. If you're not sure, perhaps you should contact your government and support GMO labeling, or better yet, get Monsanto off our shelves!