Eight Reasons Not to Use Graphic Images at the March for Life

[This post originally appeared on The National Catholic Register on January 22, 2013.  Comments there are closed; comments here are closed.  I will not respond to any emails about this topics.  Anyone who comments about it on any other thread, here or at the Register, will be banned.  As I said on today’s other post about graphic images, I spend part of every day crying for my lost baby, and I am not up for another round of hearing that I’m not really pro-life.  I have already heard what you have to say, and the rage and condescension only persuades me further that the pro-life movement needs to be purged of misogyny if it will ever gain ground.]

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Are you going to the March for Life, either in DC or in your state?  If so, are you planning to display graphic photos or videos of aborted babies?

If you are, I’m begging you to reconsider.  Fr. Pavone famously said, “America will not reject abortion until America sees abortion.”  Most pro-lifers understand that Americans are tragically ignorant about what abortion really is — what it really does to real babies.  Many of us remember seeing those bloody images for the first time, and can recall being shaken out of a vague, fuzzy support for the pro-life cause into the realization that this is a life-and-death struggle — real life, and real death.

But a  public place is not the place to use these images — ever, I’m convinced.  These images are like a terrible weapon which should be used with fear and trembling, and only as a last resort.  Why?

There will be children at the march.  Do you let your kids watch gruesome war movies or slasher films?  No?  Well, those movies show actors with fake blood, pretending to be tortured and killed.  Why would you let them see the real thing?  The pro-life cause is about protecting innocent life, and that includes protecting the innocence of young children.  Studies show that violent images stay with us for a lifetime, and damage us.

There will be post-abortive women at the march.  Imagine their courage in being there at all.  Then imagine what it does to them to see, once again, the dark thing that keeps them from sleeping at night – the thing that often keeps them in decades-long cycles of self-loathing and despair.  We don’t ask victims of rape to look at videos of rape in progress.  We don’t ask holocaust victims to look at huge banners showing the piles of emaciated bodies.  As pro-lifers, we must remember that every abortion has two victims:  the child and the mother.  We must never be on the side that hurts mothers.  Never.

Mothers will be there.  Thousands of the women at the March are mothers — mothers who have already given birth, mothers who are pregnant as they march, and mothers who have miscarried, delivered dead babies.  For many of them, the grief over a miscarriage never goes away entirely.  Many women stay away from any public march for fear of being subjected to these images so similar to the thing that caused them so much pain.  Motherhood makes a woman’s heart tender.  The pro-life movement should be a shelter that protects that tenderness — because the world needs it desperately.

Those are real babies.  Christians are almost alone in affirming the dignity of the human person.  Catholics, especially, understand that the human body is mortal, but still worthy of respect.  When we use pictures of real babies as a tactic or a tool, we are in danger of forgetting that these are children with an immortal soul, and who have a name that only their Heavenly Father knows.  They have already been killed.  Let us treat their poor bodies with respect.

Public image matters.  Some people’s only contact with obvious pro-lifers is with people who shout and condemn and terrify.  It’s just basic psychology:  if you want people to listen to you and have sympathy for your cause, don’t come across as a lunatic.  You’re not a lunatic — but to people who don’t already agree with you, you sure look that way.  Yes, your cause is worthy.  No, you’re not helping it.

They sometimes push women into abortion.  Do these images change hearts sometimes?  They sure do.  I’ve heard pro-life activists tell stories of women who saw these horrible images for the first time and decided on the spot that no way could they be any part of that.  They kept their babies.
And I’ve heard pro-life activists tell stories of women who were pregnant, scared, and undecided — and when they were confronted with bloody images, they freaked out and rushed into the clinic as fast as they could, to get away from those maniacs with the signs.
So, yes, sometimes they save lives.  And sometimes they cause lives to be lost.  We don’t do things just because they work sometimes.

Desensitization is a real danger — even among pro-lifers.  It’s just how humans are made:  see something too often, and you stop really seeing it.  I thank and bless those who work so tirelessly for the pro-life cause.  But I beg them to stop and consider that, like policemen or like soldiers, they are human, and are in danger of becoming hardened out of self-preservation. People who have become hardened must never be the public face of the pro-life cause.  If you, as a pro-life activist, see a bloody image and you don’t flinch, then it’s time to take a break — move into a different segment of the ministry, one that emphasizes prayer and reparation.

People see what they want to see.  When the apostles begged the Lord to send the dead to persuade people to repent, He said that if they didn’t listen to the prophets, then they wouldn’t be impressed by the dead coming back to life, either.  Many pro-choicers speak as if everyone knows that pro-lifers use photoshopped images — that the tiny, mutilated feet and hands and heads are a hoax that’s been thoroughly debunked.  It’s a lie, of course.  But people believe it all the same, because they want to (and pro-lifers don’t help their cause by being sloppy about things like identifying gestational age on photos).

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All the same, bloody and shocking images have their place.  Pro-life activists are right when they say abortion depends on silence and darkness, and that truth must be exposed.  Too many people who are pro-choice because they somehow still don’t know what fetuses actually look like, or what happens to them when they are aborted– or because they’ve simply slipped into a comfortable shelter of euphemisms.  These lies, this comfort must be stripped away.

So when should you use graphic images?  When a teenager shrugs and says, “My health teacher says it’s not a person until 25 weeks.”  When someone who works at a clinic says she’s doing a gentle, compassionate work of mercy.  When your boyfriend wants you to get rid of “it” before it becomes a real baby.  When a college girl likens unborn babies to tumors or parasites.  Then you can respond to the actual situation, to the actual person.  Then you can take out the picture and say, “Is this what you’re talking about?”

I believe that everyone should see an image of an aborted baby once in their lifetime.  And I believe that, like any traumatic image, it will stay with you.  Once or twice in a lifetime is enough.

Abortion is violent.  Abortion is cruel.  Abortion inflicts trauma and pain.  As pro-lifers, we should have no part in any of that.  Let us save the graphic images for a weapon of last resort.

 

Why abortion workers love those graphic images

Destiny Herndon-De La Rosa posted this excellent article from New Wave Feminists on Facebook.  It’s an open letter she wrote to a fellow who insists that it’s essential to use large, graphic photos of aborted babies outside abortion clinics. There ensued a lively discussion about whether or not this practice is (a) appropriate and (b) effective.  The fellow to whom the open letter was addressed boasted that he’s been a pro-life warrior for twenty years, and insisted that it was both right and effective.

O wonder of instantaneous social media:  Abby Johnson responded.  Johnson is the founder of And Then There Were None, which ministers directly to people who want to leave the abortion industry.  She says that, while these graphic images occasionally do change people’s minds, they also often do something else:  they tip the balance toward abortion.

She should know.  She once managed an abortion clinic, and for many years saw protesters march around with their gory posters.  Johnson says (emphasis is mine; and she gave me permission to reprint her comments here):

I watched them be ineffective for many years … from inside the abortion clinic. A perspective that most do not have. I watched for several years as women would literally run away from those holding graphic signs. They would come into my office and ask us why those people were holding them. We used that as an opportunity to point out how crazy the prolifers were and that they would do anything to prevent women from making the choices they felt they needed to. It was an AMAZING way for us to build camaraderie inside our clinic.

Then I saw the signs come down…and I actually saw women changing their minds. They started approaching the people on the sidewalk, asking questions…and then leaving our parking lot and going to the crisis pregnancy centers. Once the signs came down, we started to have volunteer escorts so that we could try to convince the women coming in not to talk to the sidewalk counselors…because they were having such an impact. When the signs were out there, we LOVED IT!!! No one was approaching them. We didn’t need escorts. 

Read that again:  they liked it when the gory pictures were out there.  It made their job easier.  Women literally ran toward abortion.

As I have said many times before, these graphic images are essential for showing ignorant or apathetic people the true horror of abortion . . . as long as the images are used in the right context.  Waving them at women in emotional turmoil is the wrong context.

We are several generations past Roe v. Wade.  We have the luxury of speaking to women who have lived with abortion for many years — women who can tell us what it’s like to make that choice, and who can tell us what would have changed their minds.  We can talk to women who can tell us what doesn’t work.  If our goal is to protect women and babies from abortion, then in God’s name, we must listen to people who know.

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Note:  I am closing comments because the last time I talked about the proper use of graphic images, I was subjected to months and months of incredible nastiness from people who consider themselves pro-life.  I spend part of every day crying for my lost baby, and I am not up for another round of hearing that I’m not really pro-life.  Please note that I will not respond to any emails on this topic, and anyone who comments about it on other posts, here or at the Register, will be banned.  I have already heard what you have to say, and the rage and condescension only persuades me further that the pro-life movement needs to be purged of misogyny if it will ever gain ground.

I hate to see that evening sun go down.

Best title I could come up with to point you toward this Tumblr, whose curator simply explains: “I search craigslist for photos of mirrors for sale and post them here.”

 

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via Gawker.  Mirrors are awfully strange — even stranger when we are trying to look at them, not into them.  Such a world full of looking without seeing, showing without meaning.  The trees seem to be all right, though.

PIC

 

Did you know that when trees get old, they don’t stop growing, or even stop reproducing?  If anything, they speed up.  In theory, if you could let a tree grow in a field with no damaging winds, weather, earthquakes, no invasive bugs or diseases, it would go on growing and growing and growing and making new seeds forever.  Of course, there is no such field.

I also had to turn off “Wee Sing America” because it was too sad.  Yes, I am eating my spinach.

At the Register: What about Art Made by Monsters?

Huh, huh, what about it, huh?

Daniel Mitsui is a treasure of the Church

. . . and he and his family have had a really terrible year. If you were thinking of buying any art prints this year, look here first, and you will help the Mistui family find their way through some of the mountain of medical bills that have piled up.

To give you a taste of his style, here is one of his magnificent drawings:  The Great Battle in Heaven

 

He also offers bookplates and other types of works, including some with secular themes.  Treat yourself by browsing through his galleries, and consider buying something wonderful for your home or parish.

I need a hobby.

I need something that I can do while I’m sitting down in the evening, when my brain is mush and I have nothing good to read and I refuse to think about laundry, but I don’t want to go to bed yet.  Right now, I usually just cruise Facebook. Although this activity often yields some exquisite cultural experiences

PIC Japanese fart warriors

I feel like I could be spending my time better. And I feel like staring at a screen is sucking the soul out of me.  But I don’t want to work or anything.

I used to enjoy quilling, making earrings, that kind of thing.  Embroidery I wasn’t crazy about, and I stink at sewing in general.  Any ideas?

At the Register: Mother Church says, “Yes, you may.”

In which I remind us all that baptism is a beginning, not a trophy for winners; and in which I briefly long for an icon depicting Christ the Sneaker-Upper.

I wish I had worked this in, but do yourself a favor and read Max Lindenman’s short little jewel of an essay, “Catholics Do Not Throw People Away.”

In accordance with the Pants and Reconciliation Commission

. . . I feel that I should acknowledge what has been said about me on This Ain’t the Lyceum, and must disclose the following:

Ah’m a-splurgin’!

That’s what I said in my best Yosemite Sam voice to my daughter, as I grabbed a large bottle of hot sauce off the shelf at the supermarket, rather than our customary medium-sized bottle of hot sauce.  Only problem was, it wasn’t my daughter.  It was some stranger, who moved on quickly.

Anyway, I just went on a bit of a book-buying spree with some Amazon credits you lovely folks helped me earn by buying Amazon items through my link (and if you can’t see the blue ad on the right sidebar, you can find a quick link in the tab at the top of the blog, where it says “Shop Amazon here!“).

It’s mainly my eleven-year-old son who was looking for something to read. I think I may have picked some stuff that was a little young for him, but he will live (and his nine-year-old brother, who prone to settle for comic books, will definitely enjoy these).  Here is what I ordered (note:  the pictures may not neccessarily be from the same edition I’m linking to. I just chose what I thought was the best illustration of the book):

While Mrs. Coverlet Was Away

and Mrs. Coverlet’s Magicians

both by Mary Nash.  Both of these are great reads, so weird and funny.  Three siblings, the boy with the complicated conscience, the slightly prissy girl, and the nakedly awful little brother Theobold, nicknamed “The Toad,” find ways to subvert the tender care of their housekeeper, Mrs. Coverlet.  I read these as a kid and they totally held up.  Nice portrayal of realistic sibling relationships.

 

The Great Brain Is Back

by John Fitzgerald.  This is the eighth in the wonderful Great Brain series, and I don’t think we’ve read this one yet. It does not appear to have been illustrated by Mercer Mayer, like the others, which is a shame.  If you’re not familiar with the series, which tells of a Catholic family in Mormon Utah dealing with their intelligent, unscrupulous, money-grubbing son and his gullible younger brother, you should get a hold of them asap.  Great for sneaking in a little history, too.

 

Arabel’s Raven

by Joan Aiken, illustrated by Quentin Blake  Just tons of fun.  I love anything by Joan Aiken.  Here she is just enjoying herself as a storyteller, following the antics of a nice girl and her unreliable pet, with lighthearted stories told in a remarkably sophisticated literary style.  Love how Aiken understands children, but doesn’t talk down to them.

 

Freddy and the Spaceship

by Walter R. Brooks, illustrated by Kurt Weise.  I know I’ve gone on and on about the “Freddy the Pig” series.  We’re slowly working our way through the list, and haven’t hit a dud yet.  Great for reading aloud for all ages.

 

The Odious Ogre

by Norton Juster, illustrated by Jules Feiffer.  Written and illustrated by the same guys who did The Phantom Tollbooth, which my kids loved to death, even though I often had to explain both sides of the puns. I actually heard this book was a bit of a disappointment, but even if it’s not quite as good as tollbooth, that’s still pretty good!  I’ll let you know what we think.

I also ordered a few books for myself:

 

So Brave, Young and Handome

by Leif Enger.  I read Peace Like a River and was blown away.  It’s one of those fascinating writing styles that teeters on the brink of magical preciousness, but never quite topples over the edge, and takes you to some amazing places.  Peace Like a Riverwas so original and captivating, I’m really looking forward to this newish book by Enger.

 

Kristin Lavransdatter III:  The Cross

by Sigrid Undset, translated by Tiina Nunnally.  I will admit that I had only the shakiest grasp on the plot in about 40% of part II.  The politics and the complicated family trees were just beyond me.  But I have the general idea, and I totally got the emotional end of the story, and I gotta find out what happens to Kristin.

So! Thanks again for shopping through my Amazon links and helping me keep our bookshelves overflowing!  What are you reading lately?

7 Quick Takes: When I Was Little

Just for fun, let’s go way, way back to early childhood– say, age five and under.  For reference, I was born in 1974.  Here’s what I remember:

1.  My favorite outfit

I had a dress that was white on the top and knit plaid on the bottom.  It had a breast pocket that was clear plastic so you could see a picture of a lion inside.  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.  Actually, I’m sure it was hideous and unbearably tacky, but I remember wearing it to Mass, which means my mother must have understood how much I loved it.

I also had not one, but two pairs of corduroy pants that were lined with plaid flannel.  My mother got that at Marsen’s Army Navy Department Store.  I made sure my cuffs were turned up so everyone knew what wonderful pants they were.

 

2.  Favorite disgusting kid food

On Saturdays, we had grinders at our house; which meant that there were leftover grinder rolls on Sundays.  And that meant that we could come home after Mass and sit at the table reading Archie comics and dipping hunks of rolls in orange juice or Coke.  Exquisite!

PIC Pop Tate does not approve.

3.  Earliest memory

I was walking down the front steps, and my big sister, Abby, said, “Way to go, Simmy!”  So I must have been walking with one foot on each step, instead of carefully setting both feet on a step before proceeding down.  I remember thinking something like, “Can’t stop to listen, gotta concentrate” and the zooming away, feeling powerful and brave.

I also remember getting my head stuck under the couch.  Normally, my head would fit under the couch, but I was wearing two pony tails with those plastic ball elastics.

PIC Goody beaded ponytail holders

 

Why don’t they sell those anymore? Those were great.  Unless you are trying to get your head out from under the couch.

 

4.  Biggest fear

Nothing original here. The idea of my parents dying was the worst thing I could imagine.  I remember sitting with my three older sisters, trying to come up with a loving sentiment to put in the newspaper for one of those special Mother’s Day pages.  My contribution was, “Happy Mother’s Day. I hope you don’t die too soon.”

 

5.  Favorite book

Richard Scarry’s Best Storybook Ever

I liked the cartoony stories full of dumb crooks, Lowly Worm, and crazy detailed diagrams of every possible item of clothing a rabbit could own, and such, but I was completely captivated by the more realistic illustrations — the ones of the baby bear who rode on his father’s shoulders, the bunny who shopped in a candy store, the hedgehog who found a perfect apple in the snow and brought it home for his wife.  Gorgeous, and a paradise of warmth and security.

Plus, this book is long.  I felt like I could keep reading it forever and never run out of nice things.

 

6.  Secret desire  

The living room, I thought, would be an earthly paradise if only the floor slanted down from the walls toward the center, and the bottom were covered with pillows and toys, so you could just slide and play, slide and play all day.  (Now that I am an adult, our living room is strangely like this, except it only slants one way, there are apple cores, rolls of toilet paper that the dogs chewed up, broken Christmas ornaments, and missing cell phone chargers mixed in with the pillows and toys.  It does not feel like paradise, per se.)

 

7.  Earliest dream I can remember

I was eating a banana, when he suddenly got mad, became enormous, and ate me.

PIC banana biting man

 

First one to say “Calling Doctor Freud” is out.  (More banana art here.)
Now your turn!

Favorite Outfit
Favorite Disgusting Kid Food
Earliest Memory
Biggest Fear
Favorite Book
Secret Desire
Earliest Dream you can remember 

And don’t forget to check out Conversion Diary for the other Seven Quick Takes.  Happy Friday, everyone!