New Wave Feminists

This month, the Stellar Shelter had the opportunity to participate in something really special, and because all of you made this possible I wanted to share it with ya…

A few weeks ago Karina got an unusual call. Our shelter is predominately for women and children, but there was an 18-year-old boy in desperate need of shelter. I’ll call him “E” to protect his privacy.

E’s mother is originally from Guadalajara. Decades ago, she fell in love with an American and came to the U.S. to marry him. She was in the process of applying for her green card when she became pregnant with E.

Sadly, his father became abusive.

E was born with a severe disability and things only deteriorated from there. E’s dad refused to finish the green card application and his mother was deported. E had to go with her (even though he was born here and is an American citizen) because she is his sole caregiver.

E was 12 when this happened, and they planned on trying to come back to request asylum on their own through a medical exemption because they are not able to receive the medical care he needs in Guadalajara. But after saving up for the journey, the pandemic hit and shut everything down.

Finally, a few months ago, they were able to make the tedious trip back up, but because of how difficult it is to transport E, they were not able to make it to the physical border to request asylum in-person (which is how many migrants do it).

They were staying in a refugee camp at the base of the Rio Grande River when the director reached out to Karina.

The camp was in no way conducive to E’s condition. The wheels on his chair were constantly getting stuck in the mud. His body was riddled with bug bites.

E has something called “Angelman Syndrome” which is a genetic disorder. And while one of the symptoms is frequent smiling and laughter, E is still nonverbal. Because of that, he couldn’t express his discomfort or distress. During the hottest days they said he would bang his head against things. The camp also had no way of bathing him, as his chair couldn’t fit into their makeshift bathrooms, so his mother wasn’t able to bathe him.

Of course Karina instantly welcomed him to the Stellar Shelter. And that’s when we realized just how perfect this place really was for him.

We knew it was accessible in the sense that all of our doors were wide enough for wheelchairs to fit through them with ease, but it turns out there was even more. We were finally able to use the snap together ramps y’all sent us off our Amazon wishlist last year to help him easily enter the shelter. Plus, back when we first moved in, there was an unfinished master bathroom with nothing more than a large tub in it. When we built it out, we had them simply put in a large open tile shower which ended up being perfect for E!

Finally, for the first time in months, he was out of the heat, away from the bugs, and able to take his first real shower, all while navigating our shelter with ease.

ADA compliance isn’t really a thing in Mexico, but we knew we wanted to be able to serve the most vulnerable and y’all supported us in that dream and made it possible. And it may have taken a year to see the full capacity of how we’re gonna be able to house guests with disabilities at the Stellar Shelter, but it couldn’t have happened for a more deserving family.

Yesterday, I wrote a piece for the 2 year anniversary of Dobbs. In it, I expressed what I believe to be the only true way forward for the Prolife Movement™.

I got some compelling feedback.

Some from former resource center directors and volunteers who agreed, and some from others who have been working equally as hard in the movement for decades, who felt unseen in my assessment.

First, I want to make one thing very clear:

I SEE YOU.

The work you’ve done for years - supporting young moms, helping them get their GEDs and job training, finding them housing and support, throwing them baby showers and making sure they have plenty of diapers and formula - that cannot be understated. You are the lifeblood of a truly prolife belief system.

Y’all are the real deal. And, in my opinion, the movement as a whole should’ve invested in you so much more.

Most of y’all were operating on shoestring budgets for decades. You saw the needs firsthand and did your best to fill them whenever possible. But when it came to the big four issues abortion vulnerable parents are facing (housing, childcare, transportation, and healthcare), you simply didn’t have the financial backing to assist in those larger needs.

THAT was my whole point.

Think beyond the prolife movement simply being the leaders, volunteers, and organizations you get newsletters from. Expand it to all of the people in this country who considered themselves “prolife.” Now consider how much the average prolife American has donated to political campaigns in the past because they were told it was the only effective way to eliminate abortion.

We were ALL sold this idea: “Elect us, we’ll make it illegal, and abortions will be no more.”

I know that statement seems pretty outrageous now, but that’s what so many voters were told for decades.

And it worked.

These politicians knew it was smart to hitch their wagons to this particular issue, because after all, “Without the right to life, what other rights matter?”

They made BILLIONS off of the “prolife” label, while doing very little to actually support pregnancy, single parenthood, and low income families in our communities.

Those were all the things YOU were doing.

And I know that if those of you who’ve given tirelessly of yourselves for decades had that type of money to reformat your cities the abortion rate would’ve likely bottomed out, seeing as how over 60% of those who chose abortion say they did so due to financial constraints. You all would’ve been able to remove even more of those barriers and saved even more lives.

But the money simply wasn’t there because it was going to politicians instead.

Politicians who offered lip service and bureaucracy and not much more.

Because what would’ve happened if they actually *did* implement the type of programs y’all were already running - that were successfully helping save lives every day - but on a larger scale?

The abortion rate would’ve dropped significantly.

And what if it dropped so low due to these initiatives that abortion was no longer even a relevant issue in our elections anymore?

I can tell you…

They would’ve had to run on something else far less sensational, far less headline grabbing, and far less heartstrings pulling. The national debt and infrastructure hardly get millions out to march in DC in below freezing temperatures each year.

And a lot of them would’ve lost their seats.

They knew that back then and they still know it now.

They had (and still have) a vested interest in keeping abortion a big voter turnout issue. They can’t “solve” the problem because that could quite possibly put them out of a job.

I know this because as an Independent (and consistent life activist who now works at the border), I’m watching as politicians on the left do the same. exact. thing. except with migration.

They don’t want to solve it. They want to stoke it. They want it to grow. They want it on every front page of every newspaper every day of the week. Because as long as it’s a relevant issue that evokes strong emotions (fear, sadness, even anger) people will turn out to vote for them as the solution.

…even though they’re actually making the problem worse, not better.

Why? Now, that I don’t have the answer to.

My best guess is because the other guy is always worse? But honestly, who knows…

At the end of the day it’s all about power, money, and votes.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I know there are some elected officials who do truly care about the unborn child in the womb, and the vulnerable families at the border fleeing violence and persecution. But there’s also a lot of them who have become so desensitized, and so used to playing the game in order to score points with voters, that it doesn’t actually matter to them as long as they keep getting reelected.

And they have received BILLIONS of “prolife” dollars that they haven’t stewarded nearly as well as all of you likely would have.

Bottomline - the government won’t save us.

At this point, I don’t even know if they can help us. The best we can hope for is that they’ll get out of the way - and by “way” I mean stop burning the money that well meaning folks donate to them, and instead allow that money to go to the small churches and charities actually doing the boots on the ground work in their communities.

Y’all are the ones truly dismantling the current systems we have in place that are failing the most vulnerable. Y’all are the ones creating equitable societies for those who are abortion minded simply because they see no other way out. Y’all are the ones presenting them with better, real, practical and tangible options. Y’all are the ones capable of building the infrastructure we need… and must have… for the future.

Now we just need to fund you, instead of them.

It’s been awhile since I’ve felt a part of the Prolife Movement™.

About 5 and a half years to be exact.

That’s when I was told by quite a few leaders - people I’d admired and respected for years - that I was no longer one of them because of an article I wrote.

And I understood.

It was an article openly supporting a very pro-choice candidate as the “Prolife Vote.”

To them, this was blasphemy. The one cardinal rule you NEVER break if you are “in the movement.”

This candidate spoke of his support for Roe at every. single. rally.

But you know what else he addressed?

Infant and maternal mortality rates among women of color; affordable housing; better mental healthcare for veterans and others who were struggling with suicidal thoughts; and access to quality healthcare for all.

And I’m going to be honest - when a pregnant mom calls me terrified out of her mind because that second line has just shown up, and she’s looking to abortion as her ONLY “choice,” she never asks me about the laws. She doesn’t give a crap what her senator’s views are on the ‘sanctity of life.’

No.

She cares that she’s going to get kicked out of her home and have to sleep on the streets. She’s worried of the expense of raising a child, and also usually has no clue what government aid there is when it comes to the medical expenses of delivering said child. And if she’s Black, sometimes she’s even literally afraid of losing her own life if she “chooses life” for her baby.

Originally, I planned on voting for this candidate quietly. But then I shared my decision with a friend and fellow activist who said, “Ok, fine. I get your reasoning. Do it… but don’t tell ANYONE.”

Something about his words - “don’t tell anyone”…. washed over me less like a wave and more like a tsunami.

I knew I couldn’t do that. So, instead I told everyone.

And just like that… I was no longer “prolife” enough for the Prolife Movement™.

It hurt.

A lot.

But then something sort of interesting happened… with no loyalties to the Movement™ any longer, I was finally free to be myself. I was able to speak my mind honestly, without fear that I needed to wear pink on Wednesdays or I’d be kicked out of the group. I was already out - they’d made that abundantly clear.

It was actually incredibly liberating.

I mean, did my circle suddenly get much much smaller overnight? Absolutely. But it also became that much more powerful… focused on the things that actually allow a pregnant person to choose life. Suddenly the people I surrounded myself with were the ones in the trenches seeing the exact same things. The do-ers, not the talkers.

I found that most of us didn’t care about the laws at all. At best, we focused on policies that would support a life culture, but that was it, because these women (and a few men), knew what it was actually going to take to prevent abortions in the first place.

Over the next few years, anytime I was asked to speak, write, or participate in an amicus brief re: Roe, I never pushed for it to be overturned, because I could finally say, with my full chest, that wasn’t going to make a difference.

What WAS going to make a difference were four things:

Housing, childcare, transportation, and healthcare (especially in rural areas).

And when people would ask my opinion about Roe, I was finally able to be honest…

For half a century, overturning Roe had been the goal for so many. They were passionate, convicted activists, many with very good hearts who put so much effort into that action because that’s what their elected officials told them was going to save lives. They did this earnestly. But it was also the lowest rung on the ladder. The step, in my opinion, we could’ve completely ignored had we jumped to the following steps of making society more equitable for those of us whose fertility is literally a liability.

When I say we live in a patriarchy, I mean it.

We live in a society that was built by men, FOR men. Wholly made to accommodate the male body. We live in a society where we are penalized FOR CONTINUING THE HUMAN RACE. Our superpower is constantly twisted into a curse in the workforce and academia. And when I say I want to smash the patriarchy, I truly mean it.

Abortion IS patriarchy.

Having to sacrifice our unborn children at the altar of late stage capitalism in order to simply exist in a man-made world, IS patriarchy. And creating equitable systems for those of us that menstruate, ovulate, lactate, and gestate is a full time job, no matter what the laws are.

Which is why, the legality part is just whatever to me. As long as those societal barriers exist, pregnant people will find a way to order pills offline, find non-profits willing to bus them to another state, or much darker and more dangerous alternatives.

Unfortunately, I called it. I could see what was going to happen if Roe was overturned because making something illegal doesn’t actually make it unnecessary to those who think they cannot choose life for themselves while also choosing it for their unborn child.

So my message to prolifers became that if Roe was overturned, they will simply win the battle, but ultimately lose the war. And unfortunately, that’s exactly what’s happening.

Roe was overturned two years ago today, and we radicalized a nation.

People who’d never even thought about the issue or taken a strong stance one way or the other, were suddenly foaming at the mouth with rage due to Dobbs. I watched as the middle ground crumbled beneath my feet, and so many people became rabidly prochoice overnight.

Then the news stories started. Women with true medical reasons to terminate pregnancies - wanted pregnancies that they were heartbroken they had to end for their own safety - were being denied medical care. And that’s when we even started losing some of our own. Lifelong prolifers were moving to the other side as well, and I couldn’t blame them. These were valid concerns because the new laws, as much as I was ambivalent on them, were nowhere near thorough enough to make accommodations for these cases.

And perhaps the most devastating thing?

Abortions are on the rise.

Why? Because all the Movement™ had pushed for the last 50 years was cutting off supply. They had barely focused on the demand side.

Why were people considering abortion in the first place? We’d told them.

Housing. Childcare. Transportation. Healthcare.

But they didn’t listen.

And the saddest part is that had prolifers applied that same honest, good intentioned fervor to these issues, as opposed to just the legality of abortion, we would’ve been ready. We would see less children dying in the womb today. We would see less women walking around - wounded and radicalized - by abortion.

Instead we see more.

And yet… I’ve already received a handful of newsletters to my inbox today “celebrating” the Dobbs decision that overturned Roe

And I guess my question is - what exactly are we celebrating?

More abortions? More walking wounded? A polarized country that thinks we only care about the unborn child in the womb, but not the toddler sleeping in the car with their teen mom because all of our shelters are at capacity? A pro-choice nation that gets closer everyday to winning the “war” by codifying abortion because at this point they’re also winning the culture too?

We had almost 50 years to address the actual issues… and instead we chose to be pawns in a political game, while pregnant people and unborn children paid the ultimate price.

I’ve never hated being right about something so much.

So, now that you have my bonafides, please listen to me when I say: The ONLY way forward is to shift our focus away from the legality of abortion and towards those women and children.

This is what Pro-Life 2.0 MUST look like.

Because I’ve been there. I was 16. It was absolutely terrifying. And if I didn’t have the support of my family, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and access to quality healthcare, I highly doubt my 23-year-old son would be here today.

Whether abortion is legal or illegal, desperate people will find a way to end their pregnancies. Full stop.

And if the last two years have proven anything to the Prolife Movement™ I hope it’s that making abortion “illegal” is not the end game.

We must all work TOGETHER to make abortion unthinkable by making it completely unnecessary.

While I’ve stayed at our shelter in Juárez a few times now, I’d yet to stay at Casa Maris - our shelter on the U.S. side - until this week.

That’s partly because it’s been at capacity since we opened 6 months ago, and partly because, well, vibes…

See, we had to start moving families in as soon as we took possession of the property. Families that were sleeping with their babies, out on the streets, in -17 degree windchill at night. Families that had journeyed through the rough terrain of the Darién Gap. Families that had lost loved ones along the way due to illness, starvation, violence, and that unforgiving jungle.

They needed protection from the elements. They needed four walls. They needed a soft mattress on the floor and warm meals made with love. They needed that space much more than I did.

But also, I was kind of apprehensive about staying there because after the first month, a couple of our guests had mentioned hearing weird noises at night, like, people walking down the hall even though everyone was asleep. And a few times doors (with deadbolts on them 😳) had suddenly locked to rooms that were empty on the inside.

And while I’m not religious, I am still sorta spiritual, and “sorta spiritual” is in no way spiritually strong enough to combat, well, whatever that was.

Karina, on the other hand, is very spiritual. So, in good Catholic fashion, she immediately scheduled a blessing from a priest. And not just any type of priest, but one that specifically handles stuff like this.

He came out and got the shelter all blessed up and holy watered it well. So, I knew the next time I came down, I’d stay here.

But… I’m also still sort of a chicken about stuff like that.

Because, see, I was raised in a Charismatic Christian family growing up. Think shofars, speaking in tongues, getting slain in the spirit - the works. And there was also a lot of “casting out” of demons happening around me as a child.

I think that’s why even though I’m an agnostic now, my ONE RULE is that I don’t mess with dark s**t. Like, at all.

And especially not these days when I don’t even know what I believe or if there’s some entity to pray to for protection. So, I made a second rule: Karina had to stay with me at the shelter. I was not about to get locked into a room where I’d start levitating Linda Blair style.

(Side note: that’s what I’ve gathered happened to her based on pop culture references, but I could be wrong since I’ve never actually seen the movie because when I say I don’t 👏 mess 👏 with 👏 dark 👏 s**t 👏 that even goes for the content I consume. Never saw it. Never will.)

ANYWAY, what I didn’t realize was that the shelter is actually still pretty much at capacity since we’re slowly beginning to revamp the downstairs. That meant all the rooms upstairs were full, and Karina and I would be sleeping in the living room with a few other people.

Now, a lot of y’all might think that’s a less than desirable set-up, but for me it was perfect. The more, the merrier, and the less scarier.

And y’all, when I tell you I felt so much peace sleeping here… I don’t know what that priest did, but Casa Maris feels so safe. And warm. And welcoming.

I was so relieved to know that our families were able to have that respite here. It truly feels like a holy home.

The second night I woke up at 3am. I’d been dreading that. Because that’s when the sleep paralysis demons appear, ya know?

But there was nothing.

Just the soft hum of the fan and the comforting sound of gentle breaths as families peacefully slumbered around me.

I rolled over and that’s when I noticed one of women’s ankle monitors peaking out from her blanket. It’s so frustrating that they make them wear those and I could write a whole other essay just on that alone. But as much as I hate those things on our moms, in that moment it was almost like the nightlight I needed to remind myself of where I was and reassure me that we were all safe and sound.

We are only able to provide such a small bit of aid and comfort on these women and children’s journeys, but now I understand just how valuable feeling secure enough to get a good nights rest is. And you all made that possible… for all of us… so thank you. 💜

If you feel called to support this work further, we’d appreciate it more than you know: https://www.newwavefeminists.com/stellarshelter

I’ve spent the last 72 hours with a lot of people. Staying at our shelter’s been amazing, but also sorta exhausting.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m a people person, 100%, so it’s been fine. It’s vibes. But I’m also 40 now and perhaps my extreme extroversion might be waning a bit. *cry face*

So, I took myself out tonight. Just me. All alone. I wanted to sit in a corner and doomscroll and just chill. And not people with people.

But, dudes… turns out, they’re still a thing. Who knew???

Usually, my steely feminist gaze does the trick at scaring them off, but tonight one made it through my barbed wire RBF.

He pulled up a seat and was determined to chat me up, and y’all - Y’ALL, I think I just accidentally stumbled upon the greatest female life hack EVER.

He said he was a diesel mechanic, and the only thing I know about diesel (outside of the 90’s shoe and fragrance brand) is that if societal demise happens and we’re all trying to flee major cities, most of us will get stuck on the way out because we’ll run out of gasoline on congested highways. Why? Because you can’t really stockpile gas. Unless - UNLESS - it’s diesel. It has a longer shelf life. So, truckers will be able to survive if, say, the power grid goes down. And, honestly, good for them. They deserve that win.

But THIS is the stuff that keeps me up at night: Existential dread, crisis planning, apocalypse strategy.

Except, like, on steroids. Bc, real talk, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Prepping is 12 o’clock kid’s play. It goes way deeper than that. By 3am I’ve moved on to the meaning of life, the universe as a whole, and that one time I did mushrooms and learned that this is all a simulation… bc yous guys, my coconut is cracked. 😂

And I just started therapy and am trying to soft launch my cray to my therapist because she’s lovely, so I gotta ease her into it. And the last thing you wanna do is break the person trying to fix you… but lowkey, I’m worried I might.

ANYWAY, back to my original point.

The life hack is this: What if we all just DUMP THAT S**T ONTO DUDES WE DON’T WANT TO TALK TO?!? Instead of Anjalay because she’s amazing and doesn’t deserve that quite honestly.

Because that’s what I just did. And it worked. Like a gd charm.

Said dude tried to be cool about it, but he eventually walked off (smart), and then on his way out stopped back by to say I’d made him “think about stuff (even smarter).

So, honestly, it was a win/win.

I got to vent. And he’s gonna be more prepared for our inevitable societal demise. We all came out better because of it.

Gaw, I love feminism. 😂🥰

I’ve only ever had one roommate before.

I was 19. She was 21. Her name was Kristy. She was also a teen mom; her son was a few years older than mine. She was crazy, and fun, and bohemian. She had wild hair, and her little boy had a unique name. They called the garbage disposal “The Pig.” We only lived together for a year, and that’s all I really remember from that time.

This morning, however, I woke up with three room mates. Like, actually in the same room, room mates. All of the bedrooms at Casa Maris are currently full, so Karina, me, and two other guests slept on mattresses on the living room floor.

It was bizarrely comfortable.

At 7:30am, I heard the soft rapping of a metal spoon against a mug of instant coffee. Someone then walked across the room and opened the blinds to let the bright El Paso light stream in.

I’m normally not a fan of mornings, but it was a surprisingly gentle way to wake up. Certainly much better than a blaring alarm.

I looked to my right and saw Karina still peacefully snoozing away. She has little ones at home that have prepared her to ignore these light noises. I, on the other hand, have teenagers. The gentler the noise, the better the odds that someone is either trying to sneak out or to sneak in, so I was wide awake instantly.

Since Karina was the only one still asleep - and I figured she was probably able to sleep through a nuclear holocaust at this point - I decided to get up and make my morning lemon smoothie.

No one was in the kitchen when I first set up the blender, arranged my bag of lemons, and set out the other mixings. I had ample counter space. But ten minutes into my mission, I was suddenly in the way. Our newest mom waited patiently for me to move so she could get into the drawer I was standing in front of. As soon as I did, she swiftly pulled out a kitchen tool, and then paused again. I shifted to another spot and she quickly accessed the next drawer I was blocking. By the third time, I figured I had a knack for guessing exactly where she needed to be and then promptly standing right in front of it.

It was a stunted kitchen ballet as we did this little dance.

She wouldn’t say anything because of our language barrier. Just a gentle pause that signaled I was in the way. I let out a broken “un momento,” and then pantomimed that I’d be cleaning everything up soon. She simply smiled and let me know it was no problem.

After she’d heated up a pan, the delicious smell of chorizo suddenly filled the air. Over my blending and the sizzling of the meat, I heard a small whimper from behind me. The kind of sound only a very new little one makes… before they learn to let out a more blustering cry... when they’re lungs are still so tiny that even their loudest howls are still quite adorable.

I quickly glanced behind me to see the sweetest new addition to Casa Maris, delicately resting in his father’s arms.

I took a split second break from my blending to squeeze his tiny little footy pajama’d toe, then returned to my task so I could get out of their hair.

His mother also took a break to warm up a bottle of breastmilk so his father could feed him. As I finished up my smoothie and began cleaning up my dishes, his dad started gently bouncing him around the kitchen. This new addition to our ballet was exactly what our performance needed. A crowd favorite.

His precious boy instantly became milk drunk cradled in his arms, letting out ever slowing slurps of his warm bottle.

Communal living isn’t for everyone. I’m not even sure if it’s for me just yet. But I do know that I couldn’t have asked for sweeter roommates or a more lovely way to wake up and start my day. Even at 7:30am… which is saying something.