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NY Times
If the American Right loves children half as much as they love the idea of them, the world might actually be a kinder place. But they don't. Not really. They love the scripture and the myth, the fetus floating like a holy relic in the amniotic ether.
They do not love the hungry child, the brown child, the orphan child, the foreign child, the child hiding under rubble, especially not the Palestinian one. They say life begins at conception, or before conception, if you catch them after a couple of bourbons and a Fox News rerun, life, they'll argue, with trembling hands and trembling Bibles, is sacred at two weeks.
At the flutter of sails unseen to the human eye, at that moment, they claim, with teary eyes and trembling voices, that God has stitched a soul into the fabric of the cosmos, and interferes to commit murder.
They will chain themselves to clinics and scream at rape victims and call it virtue. They will carve sanctimony into law with trembling, bloodless fingers. But let that child be Palestinian, and suddenly that heartbeat is just a statistic.
The same man who claims every life is precious will gladly fund the bombs that shred children into bone and ash halfway across the world. He will watch the footage if he dares watch it all and mutter something about Hamas, about tunnels, about unfortunate collateral. He will turn off the TV, pour a drink, and sleep like a man who thinks God cannot hear screams across borders.
It's not pro-life; this is fetishism of birth, a bloodless idolatry of potential that ends the moment a child takes a breath, especially if that breath is drawn beneath a hijab or under an occupation. The moment that child is born in Gaza beneath a foreign sky under the shadow of American-supplied war machines, she becomes a target, not a miracle. A threat, not a soul.
And the GOP and the MAGA Right? These bootlicking apostles of cruelty, they want you to believe that they are the righteous defenders of the unborn. But their love of life has a border. Their compassion ends with citizenship. Their morality is stamped " Made in America” and expires on impact. You cannot preach about the sanctity of life and then cheer for genocide. You cannot scream that abortion is murder and then applaud when hospitals are bombed.
When schools are turned to smoke, when infants suffocate in incubators without power because the fuel trucks were turned away. You cannot quote scripture while turning a blind eye to the slaughter of children unless your God is a war profiteer.
There is no moral universe in which you can hold up a picture of a fetus on the Senate floor and then vote to send more weapons to a government that has buried 10,000 children in a matter of months. That's not hypocrisy, that's depravity. It is evil cloaked in patriotism. It is death baptized in nationalism. Where's your tearful speech for the baby in Rafa?
The child pulled lifeless from the rubble, limbs limp and gray like ash-covered porcelain. Where is your prayer circle for the toddler found beside her dead mother in a bombed-out shelter? Where is your goddamn “Heartbeat bill” for the four-year-old girl whose heart was stopped by American ordinance? You dare to call yourself pro-life? Tell it to the ghosts of Gaza.
Tell it to the fathers digging through concrete with their bare hands, screaming names into the dust. Tell it to the nurses operating without anesthesia, to the teachers marking attendance in cemeteries, to the children who draw pictures of tanks and drones instead of houses and flowers. Tell it to the ones who will never grow old enough to know what your flag means. You cannot square this.
You cannot pretend this is consistent. You cannot speak of sanctity while bathing in hypocrisy so thick it seeps through your pores and rots the soul from the inside out.
If you are pro-life, then be pro-life. Be pro every life. Not just the white ones. Not just the Christian ones. Not just the ones born within your borders and carrying your bloodline. Anything else is a lie. A murderous, cowardly lie. And the blood's on your hands. Not metaphorically, not poetically, but literally. Your taxes paid for the warplanes. Your votes endorse the policy.
Your silence blessed the massacre, and your flags waved while children burned. So the next time you whisper that life is sacred, say it in front of a mirror and watch your teeth turn to ash. Defiance til’ death.
