I´m Claire and I arrived from Ireland last week to start an internship with EMC.
Conflicting and some seemingly incongruous ideas and associations abounded prior to my trip to New York and en route: New York, the city that never sleeps. The abortion capital of the world. Soho. Central Park. From Broadway to Roosevelt Avenue´s 12 abortion mills: New York´s very own baby death-row. Giuliani´s zero tolerance of yester-year versus the liberty to butcher babies in utero. ´In God we Trust´ printed on over a billion dollar bills exchanged for abortion. Bagels. Yellow cabs. Metropolis. Necropolis. The zenith of the Empire State Building and the nadir of modern ´civilisation´: the right to choose to have one`s own baby killed.
The trip itself raised mixed feelings for me. I absolutely wanted to go. It was however hard to reconcile a visceral desire to try to save mothers and babies from the horror of abortion with the anticipation of the adventure that living in NYC would be. I was very excited about New York but at the same time felt guilty about this, given the gravity of the work. How would I square the poignancy of the pregnancy centres with the wonder of the city??
New York: a teeming metropolis. `The city that never sleeps´. Why? People are too busy living. Living. Living life to the full! Yet, alongside this metropolis lurks a necropolis. That same sleepless city summarily sentences and violently dispatches babies to their sleep. NYC is the country´s abortion capital. No fewer than 250 abortuaries peddle their ghastly baby-dismemberment and baby-killing services. Metropolis. Necropolis. Metropolis. Necropolis. Metropolis. Necropolis. My brain struggled to make sense of it all. NYC is a majestic city. She is breath-taking but if you´re a babe in the womb, she can literally, and brutally, take your breath away.