Do you ever wake up and immediately know that it is going to be a bad day? I usually don’t, but on Monday, I did.
I slept through my first class, trying to avoid the certainly doom-laden activities that fate had in store for me, but eventually, I dragged myself out of bed. I had to get to my afternoon French class.
I had almost forgotten the ominous feeling by the time I arrived on campus. It was nice, really. I just wandered across the West Lawn with my iPod on full blast, as usual. The day didn’t seem to be turning out terrible at all. I slept in, and it was a beautiful day — what could possibly go wrong?
Then I saw it.
Just ahead was one of the many warnings of graphic images that had been scattered near the plaza. It took me all of but a few moments to recall where I’d seen those signs before and why. But when I remembered, it was an awful feeling.
I continued walking toward the plaza. What else could I do? Cruel fate had planned for me to see these gigantic walls full of pictures of aborted fetuses. Who was I to fight it?
I don’t know who thought of this whole concept, but I want to meet whoever it was and punch them.
First of all, the idea of making someone so nauseated that they are forced to agree with your personal views simply has to be against the Geneva Conventions. It seems like a very dirty trick in order to get someone to agree or cooperate. There’s a word for it, and it’s on the tip of my tongue.
Oh yes, the word is torture. Though I guess these people aren’t forcing anyone to look at the pictures. They’re just making everything so huge that it’s nearly impossible to not look. So I’ll give them some credit and rank them lower than most war-time militaries on my scum-o-meter.
I don’t really know why, but I have this strange disdain for people who try to convince me to agree with them by shoving unwanted pictures into my eyes.
Honestly, I’m willing to bet that those pictures would make even the strongest medical professionals a little woozy, so why would it be OK to print those pictures onto billboards?
I’d like to say now that I’m not ranting about people trying to convince me to change my views about abortion. What I absolutely hate about these people is their methods; those methods should be banned on college campuses across America.
I’m not even sure how effective these billboards could possibly be. I am fairly sure that a vast majority of the people who saw them instantly became severely uncomfortable. Or maybe I’m just speaking for myself.
The worst part about having to see these billboards is that I’m a guy.
I know that line of reasoning doesn’t necessarily mean anything to you right now, but think of it this way:
Would it be morally correct for me to make someone else’s decisions for them? What if that decision could potentially change someone’s life?
The answer should be no. For me, the answer is no. I would never think to make decisions for someone, especially of a serious nature. So, how would it be different if I were restricting another person’s options?
It is with this line of reasoning that allows me to say, with great pride and fervor, that I am pro-choice, because I’ll never have to make that decision, even if I do happen to get a woman pregnant. That decision should always fall on the one who will be carrying the child.
However, I think I’ve made myself clear: I am definitely anti-huge-billboards-of-aborted-fetuses.
Brian Lancaster is a senior English major. His column usually appears Wednesdays in the Collegian. Letters and feedback can be sent to email@example.com.