Because I am not the most tech-savvy of individuals out there, and because I'm just darned nosy, I will occasionally visit sites like www.wholinkstome.com just to see who is out there, reading my site, and of whom I'm not aware. (Hi, Dr. Four Eyes!) I did a search this weekend, and checked the Technorati tags, just curious to see who all is lurking in the corner.
Imagine my surprise and anger when I discover that this person linked to me because I put up a Blog For Choice post. Of course, said person didn't bother to actually READ my post, nor, I suspect, did he read any of the other blogs of people who contributed posts for that topic, either. He just lumped all the contributors together under the banner of "murderers of children."
Andrea had quite a bit to say recently on the issue of privacy as it pertains to blogs. I understand fully what motivates people to reveal as little of themselves as possible - having your post hijacked and linked up with a list of the names of other "baby-killers" is as good a reason as any to want to keep yourself aloof -- but rather than making me fearful, this made me angry. It made me angry that there will *always* be someone out there who condemns me because of my past. That I will always be found wanting by a certain slice of the demographic pie because I have had an abortion.
It matters not that I am still tortured by my own past, and that I will, more than likely, never forgive myself for the hard choices that I had to make, but seeing my name listed among all those others, and reading the responses, I am somewhat comforted by the fact that I am not alone. I wish to God that there were not other women who tell the same story that I do, but I am glad that if any one of them were to find their way to me, they would feel a sense of kinship. They would realize that this is not the end of all they know and hold dear.
While I dislike that this person has stolen my name and site address for a vituperative attack on women, I am firm in my resolve to tell my story. Part of my healing process is not hiding what happened to me. If I try to hide what happened, I feel such a sense of shame. The guilt is mind-numbing. I will not go back to being scared of every scrape and thump in the night. That would be more of a disservice than anything this random blogger could ever dish out to me.
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