As many of you know, my political beliefs are very strong. I believe what I believe, and while I am willing to learn more and let my opinions be changed, I will stand behind my positions as of the date I am discussing them.

I rarely have these conversations. My friends fall into three camps: those who believe similarly to me (conversations with them are usually stuff of agreement); those who do not believe similarly to me but are willing to learn more (a small group); and those who do not wish to discuss politics or do not care about them.

I envy the third group. It is good to be in a good enough position or comfortable enough in ones life, or even occasionally ignorant enough not to care. I believe that educated people do not care about politics only when they see no threat to their lifestyles. This is usually because of privilege. Now, there are many people who have some sort of privilege who care about politics immensely, and I count myself as one of them. I am privileged to be white, to speak good english and to be well educated. Many do not have these advantages.

But face it; many straight people have no desire to care about gay marriage. Many men have no desire to care about women’s rights. Many whites do not see the pervasiveness of racism. Many of the rich do not see the poverty that surrounds us every day. Why should they? They have what they need. Their world is comfortable. Going out of your way to care about something that does not affect you difficult. Statistically, interlopers, protesters and troublemakers of the like are less likely to live long, less likely to reproduce. It’s simply easier to be content with what one has.

Now, I do not excuse myself from this category. I don’t protest. I don’t volunteer at abortion clinics. But I do vote my conscience and I voice my opinion when I can. I try to be an active feminist, an active atheist, an active liberal in whatever meager way I can.

That being said, I had a conversation about abortion today with two good friends. They are both fairly progressive, good people.

I told them I advocated abortion on demand. No questions asked.

My male friend replied that he didn’t like the idea of people using abortion as a method of birth control. I protested. No one does that, I said. Well, maybe some people do, but that’s not widespread at all. It’s propaganda!

My female friend then related a parable about a girl she knew who’d gotten pregnant and had an abortion five times. She’s a rarity, I started saying. Then I stopped myself.

My friends and I were separated for a minute then, as I ran back to get something I’d left behind. When I returned, the conversation changed, and I was a little grateful for it, because when I was away I started thinking. Why is that bad? Why does it matter how many abortions she’s had? Are we going to stop her? Are we going to limit the number of abortions someone can have? Where do you draw the line? Two? Three? Four? How do you decide unilaterally what’s too much?

And then I started thinking about fear. Fear and the movie Frankenstein. Why? Well, if anyone has seen Frankenstein recently, they’ve probably laughed. But in the 1930s, people ran SCREAMING from the theatre in horror. Now, we see things like Hostel and the Hills Have Eyes, where people are routinely tortured and killed, and it’s nothing. And fifty years ago, if a girl had five sexual partners, she was a giant slut. Now, if she’s only had five, she’s kind of behind the game. So why is five abortions a lot? Or more importantly, how the hell can we tell this girl to live her life? So what if she gets an abortion five times a year. It’s her problem, not mine.

The thing about language and culture and mores is that they change. Judeo-Christian morality is losing its grip on the socio-cultural perceptions of today’s western populace. And let it! But don’t let outdated propaganda on what’s too much dictate how you view your politics. In another fifty years we could have virtual reality holodecks that you can murder virtual people in, and it’s just be like seeing a movie. and people could laugh at Hostel like it was a comedy. We don’t know. And we don’t have the right to legislate what people do with their bodies, their lives, or themselves.

In conclusion, my plea to those who are lucky enough not to worry about at least some of the isms to not assume that their experience is universal, not to assume everyone has the same privileges they do, and not to assume that they can use their morality to dictate the validity of someone else’s life and choices.