Abortion Activists Sing Sacrilegious Christmas Carols: “Hark! The Nasty Women Sing, Glory to the....

FULL TITLE: Abortion Activists Sing Sacrilegious Christmas Carols: “Hark! The Nasty Women Sing, Glory to the Nuva Ring”

On December 17, a crowd of women gathered on the snow-covered grounds of New York City’s Trump International Hotel. Dressed in red choir gowns, they pulled out songbooks and began to sing familiar Christmas tunes. However, upon closer inspection, listeners realized that the lyrics had been given a feminist twist.

“Hark! The nasty women sing, glory to the Nuva ring! Joyful all erections rise, get an implant if you’re wise,” the “Nasty Women’s Choir” crooned. Then later: “You better watch out, You better not hump, You better pull out, Cause our president’s Trump, Donald Trump is coming to town.”

The singing event was part of the National Organization for Women’s (NOW) Nasty or Nice campaign, a holiday-themed protest of perceived infringements on reproductive rights. And according to Mashable’s Katie Dupree, the “hilarious” and “cheeky” anthems were received in an “overwhelmingly positive” manner. (To that, I would add, it is Manhattan we’re talking about.)

Ever since November 8, feminists have fought their battles with renewed vigor, intimating that the Trump administration would virtually eliminate easy birth control access. In reality, it is only free contraception that might disappear. But nevertheless, pundits began to lament, people took to social media, and soon women were frantically researching long term birth control options that could outlast a Trump presidency.

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“Ladies, are you wondering what the Trump administration means for your reproductive rights?” Daily Show host Trevor Noah asked on a December 14 segment. “And fellas, are you wondering what to get your lady this holiday season?” After a focus group of women discussed their plans to stock up on Plan B or get an IUD, the screen switched to a fake commercial of a couple ice skating. The man fell on one knee, opened a small box and delighted his girlfriend…with an IUD.

So is contraception the hot gift this season? The Nasty or Nice campaign seems to think so. Along with snarky descriptions, the NOW sponsored website gives an assortment of reproductive health themed “holiday gifts for nasty women,” including IUDs, the ring, emergency contraception, the pill, condoms and even female sterilization surgery. An implant, the site reads, “is the perfect gift for the woman who doesn’t need another pair of small hands in her life right now.” (Note the dig at Donald.) A calendar for fertility planning also doubles as a way to “plan for upcoming events like the impending apocalypse.”

And if you want to communicate the sentiment of #HeForShe solidarity without laying down big bucks, Nasty or Nice has ornaments with a mini IUD inside of it. “If you’re still looking for that one ornament to complete your Christmas tree this year, consider your search over,” wrote Refinery29’s Kimberly Truong of the bauble.

But in the end, as NY Mag writer Claire Landsbaum noted, “In a world full of lawmakers trying to dictate what women can and can’t do, giving her the power of choice is the best way to show you care.”

>>How can we be surprised by the abortion crowd shamelessly reveling in open wickedness?

Forget it, fella, it’s “NOW”

This was written by the sister of the founder of NOW and she had a front row view of the founding...

http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/3200158/posts
Marxist Feminism’s Ruined Lives
Frontpagemag.com ^ | 9-2-2014 | Mallory Millett

“When women go wrong men go right after them.” – Mae West

“Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy; its inherent virtue is the equal sharing of misery.” Winston Churchill wrote this over a century ago.

During my junior year in high school, the nuns asked about our plans for after we graduated. When I said I was going to attend State University, I noticed their disappointment. I asked my favorite nun, “Why?” She answered, “That means you’ll leave four years later a communist and an atheist!”

What a giggle we girls had over that. “How ridiculously unsophisticated these nuns are,” we thought. Then I went to the university and four years later walked out a communist and an atheist, just as my sister Katie had six years before me.

Sometime later, I was a young divorcee with a small child. At the urging of my sister, I relocated to NYC after spending years married to an American executive stationed in Southeast Asia. The marriage over, I was making a new life for my daughter and me. Katie said, “Come to New York. We’re making revolution! Some of us are starting the National Organization of Women and you can be part of it.”

I hadn’t seen her for years. Although she had tormented me when we were youngsters, those memories were faint after my Asian traumas and the break-up of my marriage. I foolishly mistook her for sanctuary in a storm. With so much time and distance between us, I had forgotten her emotional instability.

And so began my period as an unwitting witness to history. I stayed with Kate and her lovable Japanese husband, Fumio, in a dilapidated loft on The Bowery as she finished her first book, a PhD thesis for Columbia University, “Sexual Politics.”

It was 1969. Kate invited me to join her for a gathering at the home of her friend, Lila Karp. They called the assemblage a “consciousness-raising-group,” a typical communist exercise, something practiced in Maoist China. We gathered at a large table as the chairperson opened the meeting with a back-and-forth recitation, like a Litany, a type of prayer done in Catholic Church. But now it was Marxism, the Church of the Left, mimicking religious practice:

“Why are we here today?” she asked.
“To make revolution,” they answered.
“What kind of revolution?” she replied.
“The Cultural Revolution,” they chanted.
“And how do we make Cultural Revolution?” she demanded.
“By destroying the American family!” they answered.
“How do we destroy the family?” she came back.
“By destroying the American Patriarch,” they cried exuberantly.
“And how do we destroy the American Patriarch?” she replied.
“By taking away his power!”
“How do we do that?”
“By destroying monogamy!” they shouted.
“How can we destroy monogamy?”
Their answer left me dumbstruck, breathless, disbelieving my ears. Was I on planet earth? Who were these people?

“By promoting promiscuity, eroticism, prostitution and homosexuality!” they resounded.

They proceeded with a long discussion on how to advance these goals by establishing The National Organization of Women. It was clear they desired nothing less than the utter deconstruction of Western society. The upshot was that the only way to do this was “to invade every American institution. Every one must be permeated with ‘The Revolution’”: The media, the educational system, universities, high schools, K-12, school boards, etc.; then, the judiciary, the legislatures, the executive branches and even the library system.

It fell on my ears as a ludicrous scheme, as if they were a band of highly imaginative children planning a Brinks robbery; a lark trumped up on a snowy night amongst a group of spoiled brats over booze and hashish.

To me, this sounded silly. I was enduring culture shock after having been cut-off from my homeland, living in Third-World countries for years with not one trip back to the United States. I was one of those people who, upon returning to American soil, fell out of the plane blubbering with ecstasy at being home in the USA. I knelt on the ground covering it with kisses. I had learned just exactly how delicious was the land of my birth and didn’t care what anyone thought because they just hadn’t seen what I had or been where I had been. I had seen factory workers and sex-slaves chained to walls.

How could they know? Asia is beyond our ken and, as they say, utterly inscrutable, and a kind of hell I never intended to revisit. I lived there, not junketed, not visited like sweet little tourists — I’d conducted households and tried to raise a child. I had outgrown the communism of my university days and was clumsily groping my way back to God.

How could twelve American women who were the most respectable types imaginable — clean and privileged graduates of esteemed institutions: Columbia, Radcliffe, Smith, Wellesley, Vassar; the uncle of one was Secretary of War under Franklin Roosevelt — plot such a thing? Most had advanced degrees and appeared cogent, bright, reasonable and good. How did these people rationally believe they could succeed with such vicious grandiosity? And why?

I dismissed it as academic-lounge air-castle-building. I continued with my new life in New York while my sister became famous publishing her books, featured on the cover of “Time Magazine.” “Time” called her “the Karl Marx of the Women’s Movement.” This was because her book laid out a course in Marxism 101 for women. Her thesis: The family is a den of slavery with the man as the Bourgeoisie and the woman and children as the Proletariat. The only hope for women’s “liberation” (communism’s favorite word for leading minions into inextricable slavery; “liberation,” and much like “collective” – please run from it, run for your life) was this new “Women’s Movement.” Her books captivated the academic classes and soon “Women’s Studies” courses were installed in colleges in a steady wave across the nation with Kate Millett books as required reading.

Imagine this: a girl of seventeen or eighteen at the kitchen table with Mom studying the syllabus for her first year of college and there’s a class called “Women’s Studies.” “Hmmm, this could be interesting,” says Mom. “Maybe you could get something out of this.”...

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