“Once you know some things, you can't unknow them. It's a burden that can never be given away.” - Alice Hoffman
I never seek out photographs of aborted children, but I don’t look away when I stumble across them. Those pictures create a variety of emotions for me; anger, sorrow, confusion, and disgust. Prevailing over those emotions though is the discomfort I feel seeing the tiny, yet perfectly formed child laying in a puddle of blood.
The truth isn’t easy.
It’s said that ignorance is bliss, but in the case of genocide, ignorance is deadly. Those who know the truth are stuck between a rock and a hard place; do we lie and paint a pretty picture to protect feelings, or do we tell the painful truth to protect lives? It seems like an obvious decision, but both sides are heavily criticized.
The first time I saw the truth of abortion, my heart shattered. I simply cannot fathom how anyone could see these children and claim that they are nothing more than a “mass of cells.” How could someone see the perfectly formed fingers and toes and claim they belong to a parasite?
The truth isn’t kind.
The truth of abortion is harsh, it’s mean. The truth takes the flowery language of choice and shows the child that payed for it. No one wants to see that.
The truth is loud.
The truth should make us uncomfortable. It should prompt us to act and force us to speak. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said “Our lives begin to end the moment we become silent about things that matter.”