I Hold My Son Close

Originally published in the Jackson Free Press August 20, 2014

On the day in 2002 that I welcomed my only son into the world, I felt joy worthy of a Stevie Wonder song. When Ajani Andrew Michael made his debut at a little over 5 pounds, my heart skipped a beat, and the heavens seemed to open for just a moment before the dark clouds of worry rolled in.

My worry started immediately since my son was born just a little early. So like a disproportionate number of black children, he would have to fight a bit harder due to prematurity. As my handsome boy lay on my chest, skin-to-skin, struggling for every labored breath, my mind was already thinking about how hard life for him would be.

I worried if I had made a mistake by giving him an African name that means “he who is victorious in struggle.” I thought about the odds of him being tracked into special education before the fourth grade. I felt guilty for looking at him and hoping that while I loved the deep richness of his father’s dark skin, his likely lighter complexion would insulate him from some of the profiling that comes from being a black male in America.

As a community health worker, I knew that he had to beat the first-year infant-mortality odds for black babies. I sat thinking all of this as I told him how perfect and beautiful he was, before he was whisked away to the neonatal intensive-care unit.

Since Michael Brown’s killing in Ferguson, Mo., some have highlighted that the killing of young black men is a reproductive-justice issue. Reproductive justice is the right to have children, to not have children, and to parent children in safe and healthy environments. It is based in human rights, just like the right not to live in fear for your child’s life due to the effects of racism and oppression.

Black mothers do not yet have reproductive justice. If we choose to parent, we have a long list of things to protect our children from. We fight to keep them safe from health disparities, educational inequality and the school-to-prison pipeline—the list goes on. Racism and oppression don’t take holiday breaks, and neither do “normal” parenting worries like first steps, colds and grades.

Add to the list the impossible task of protecting our children from racial profiling—a danger that could lead to police gunning them down one day.

Ask my kids who mommy’s favorite is, and they will all say “Ajani.” Truth is, there are no favorites, but I do hold my son close. I know he faces a world that doesn’t actually see him when they look at him. They see a threat, a thug, a problem or a stereotype. Imagine what would have happened if the officer had, instead, seen Michael Brown that day. He might still be alive.

I Don’t Regret Helping My Daughter Get An Abortion

Abortion, Reproductive Justice

(This originally appeared on the Defending The Last Clinic blog September 5,2013 and my former blog The Intelligent Statistic Speaks-it has been edited since)

“It is always easier to fight for one’s principles than to live up to them”- Alfred Adler

It was a day I never thought would happen. I thought I had done everything to guard against it. Yet several months ago there I was hearing that my 15 year old daughter was pregnant.

It all seemed so surreal. How could this have happened to us? As I stood listening to her tell me the test was positive I struggled with the strong desire to scream and cry. In my mind my daughter knew better. She is the homeschooled daughter of the president of the state chapter of a national feminist organization. The first time she ever spoke at the capitol was at a joint Senate and House hearing on teen pregnancy. She was 13 and spoke about the need for comprehensive sex education. She and I along with her sister are clinic escorts. She knows all about birth control, condoms, and Plan B. She has always had knowledge about and access to contraception (despite barriers) as well as being encouraged to wait until she is older to have sex.

This was one of those moments in life when I was faced with living my beliefs. I had always said if one of my daughters got pregnant as a teen I wouldn’t flip out and judge her like so many parents do. I would love her, respect her, and let her choose how to handle it. I would support her no matter what. Yet my mind immediately did judge and I wanted to shake her.

In that moment I took a deep breath put my arm around her and said “everything will be ok”. Then we traveled down the short hall to the counseling room at the clinic we escort at. I kept telling myself “stay calm, breathe, she needs to know you love her”.

You see I knew she was pregnant before she did. I asked her when I noticed her period was late and she flat out denied it was possible. When I asked her to take a pregnancy test at home she had refused. So I asked the clinic counselor to convince her to take one after we arrived to escort.

As we sat down all she kept saying was “I don’t know how this happened” over and over. The truth was in that moment she couldn’t remember having sex the one time with the young man she was seeing. She isn’t alone this happens to grown women all the time who find themselves faced with unplanned pregnancy. The clinic ultrasound tech peaked in with a soft smile and offered to take her back to see how far along she was.

Left alone with two staff members I broke down in tears saying “she knew better” and “I warned her”. It’s funny how all the rational things you know about teen sex and pregnancy go out the window in a crisis. The truth is my daughter was using condoms. Guess what sometimes they fail. Especially, when children who aren’t educated in their use like my child is are the ones placing them on their penis.

So there we were sitting, waiting. The clinic counselor said I was the calmest parent she had ever seen- so I guess there’s that. Even with that comment I couldn’t help feeling awful. Like I failed.

Like I suspected my daughter returned and said she was 5 weeks pregnant. I told her calmly and plainly she had three options she could parent, she could choose adoption or she could have an abortion. I also told her she had time to decide since she was so early in her pregnancy.

Let me tell you my daughter and I both LOVE babies! She loves kids. She is a great babysitter. She and her sister have a babysitting business. She wants to be a mom. She also helps me as a doula. None of this means she is ready to be a mother.

The clinic was closed the next week so we had over a week to be home before she could possibly terminate. A week filled with her being incredibly morning sick , unable to eat and asking questions about what it was like to be a teen mom. I was honest with her. I wouldn’t trade my children for anything but it was hard VERY hard. It is nothing like the fairy tale that anti choicers sell to girls. Yes you can get benefits but you have to tell the state all your business to get them. I had to work two and three jobs at a time often missing majors parts of my children’s lives. I wouldn’t have made it without my mother helping me every step of the way.

I made plans in my head for each options, if she chose to parent I thought it would be hard but we could do it. I’m a doula who works with teen moms I know the ropes. I tried not to tell her what to do and just gave her simple honest answers to her questions. It was about a day before we addressed the huge issue looming-the fact that my daughter has a illness that is managed by medication that is not compatible with pregnancy. The option for her would be to go off her medication and risk her health severely deteriorating during the pregnancy to the point of hospitalization. Those are a lot of factors to lay at the feet of a 15 year old girl but this was not my pregnancy or my choice it was hers alone. She spent hours curled up like a baby as I stroked her hair and after days of quiet reflection SHE settled on abortion as her choice.

I made sure she received religious counseling pre procedure from Faith Aloud. She read the stories of other women online on the I had an abortion Facebook page. I wanted her to know that there was no shame in what she was choosing to do. She was walking a well worn road many had walked before her. I wanted her to understand she had control. This was HER decision and she would have to be a parent, she would be the one relinquishing if she chose adoption and only she would be having an abortion, not me. I told her she could change her mind. She said nope she knew what she wanted to do.

Doing the work I do I already knew the extra hoops parents are required to go through to obtain an abortion for their child if they are under 16. Let me tell you that knowing something and living something are two different things. In Mississippi a girl under 16 has to have parental permission from both parents, a picture ID, and her birth certificate (which is redundant if she has a state ID since it was used to get the ID but whatever). It is the first time I was ever happy that Kayla’s father is not on her birth certificate because tracking him down wasn’t going to happen, we barely speak.

I had never even thought about having to go through the hoops of getting my daughter a state ID. We like many families in poverty who have moved often couldn’t find her birth certificate so I had to send off to her state of birth for that, priority mail. Then there was actually securing the ID. Our vehicle which like many low income families runs when it feels like it decided to break down when we were driving around to get the ID. Thankfully we have friends who could help us, not everyone does. We also live in the city were we can get all this done . We didn’t have to drive 30 minutes or more away like many women.

We are fortunate that when my daughter and I couldn’t get through on the NAF hotline for abortion fund help (medicaid only pays for abortion in very rare cases my daughter’s wasn’t one her pregnancy was not a result of rape or sexual assault and she wasn’t about to die), I was able to give a person a direct call to get her intake completed. We are privileged that we are surrounded by pro choice and reprojustice activist friends who were able to pitch in and help us with the cost of her procedure. We had a wide ring of non judgmental loving support unlike many of the families we see at the clinic. Not only was I there on that day but a close friend who is a therapist was there in case Kayla wanted to talk, had complex feelings she needed to process. We even had a plan in case she just changed her mind, wanted to go home and come up with a different plan.

The day of her procedure she insisted on volunteering as an escort. Which actually worked out well because when procedure time rolled around the protesters didn’t even notice her. They were too busy harassing the other women coming and going to notice a regular fixture especially since we had several camera crews on site and they were showing off for them. In fact we were in a group of patients whose feet were filmed receiving the state mandated pre procedure counseling for Nightline.

Since she is a minor she had the option to have me in the room for her procedure but she wanted to go alone. My daughter received excellent care. The doctor who performed my daughters procedure was caring and professional not only to my daughter but to me. He asked her again before he started if she wanted to go through with the abortion. Dr. Willie Parker talked to her through the whole procedure. Her procedure was quick and without complications.

She went home and rested. I felt relieved, she felt relieved. I was happy that she had access to all her options. She wouldn’t have to postpone or give up chances like I did. Happy that she wasn’t being forced to risk her health to give birth. Teen pregnancy is by far not the end of the world in fact teens can be and are wonderful parents. Yet no one of any age should be a parent when they aren’t ready.

Within a few days she decided she wanted to go back to the clinic and volunteer to escort. I thought she might want a break from the insults of the anti choice harassers or that they might bother her. Nope, in fact her resolve was greater than ever. I know that she never thought it would be her at the clinic. She always said she just wants to help and she does just that.

For me the hardest thing about this whole journey has been living up to the principles I say I live by. It is easy to say we are “pro-choice” or “reproductive justice activists” those are just words and titles if not put into action. It is hard to live them and honor that people we love and want to protect have autonomy and choice. It is hard to not only let go of control and the urge to save but to make space for our kids to exercise their rights to make their own informed decisions. Ultimately knowing that we must honor their decisions as theirs regardless of what we think and feel they should do.

I know there are people who want to know if I regret helping my daughter with her abortion NO I DO NOT! Frankly if she or one of her sisters were pregnant and asked me tomorrow I would do it again. Why? Their bodies, their reproductive futures are THEIR OWN not mine! They are my children-I do not own them. I guide them, I help them, I love them. That is my job. I am their mother NOT their owner.

I am proud of my daughter for deciding what was right for her and being willing to share her story with others and confront abortion stigma. There are plenty of people who wish to make her be ashamed and remain silent. She is rejecting that. She is refusing to be shamed by those who wrap their shaming in a guise of Christian love too (if she wants your prayer or thinks she needs forgiveness she’ll call you). As a mother and woman of color I will continue to strive to make sure no one ever has the right to tell my children or anyone else when, how, and if they procreate. As a people we have already been there done that and it didn’t work out well.

Below is a copy of the speech my daughter wrote and gave at the rally on 8/17/13. In case anyone asks I advised her against going public with her story but she said and I quote

“I want girls like me to know it’s ok and they will be ok”.

Since she has went public the libelous slurs against my daughter and our family have already started. Kayla says she doesn’t care she wants other girls to know all their options and that they don’t have to be ashamed. That is what she tells girls when they come to her for help. We then refer them where they need to go including if they need a doctor and a doula for their birth. That’s the thing about supporting women’s reproductive health and well being you have to support a range of decisions not just what you would choose.

“Hello my name is Kayla, I am 15 years old and I had an abortion. The day I found out I was pregnant I was scared and ashamed because I was 15 and pregnant. I had a big choice to make-should I stay pregnant, chose adoption, or have an abortion.

I cried because I want to be a mom one day but I was not ready for such a huge step at such a young age. So I chose to have an abortion. I was scared but I knew I was doing the right thing.

Did I feel sad? Yes. Do I regret it? No! Because I know that the spirit I named Mariah will go on to a woman who is ready for her. I love my mom for being so supportive of my choice- I love her for that.

For all the young ladies that might have been or will be in this situation- you are not alone. There are people who support you-always. Even when you don’t know it. Abortion is not a bad thing, it’s a lifesaver! I can now be who I need to be and I know God still loves me! Thank you.”

Kayla Roberts

Clinic Escort, Young Feminist

Dear Former Clinic Escort,

Uncategorized

Not only am I a former escort-I’m the mother of a teen who had an abortion, an abortion funder and an abortion doula.

I NEVER “grabbed” patients or even walked with them without asking them if it was ok first.
Not only have I been in the waiting room but many of the patients at the clinic I use to escort at arrived early and would sit outside and talk to us before and sometimes after their procedures. So yes many of us know why they are there and it’s no ones business but their own.
Yes I’ve been in the counseling room (which is done as a group at the clinic I was at before talking to the doctor alone). I listened to the counselor and doctor answer EVERY question from every patient with FACTS. Every patient was offered information packets about all of their options and told all of their options. The doctor talked to my daughter by herself to make sure I wasn’t forcing her to get the procedure. Then he spoke to us both to answer questions.
My daughter said the doctor asked her was she sure she wanted to have the procedure before he began. He also talked her through the entire surgery and when she was briefly in pain the nurse wiped her tears while holding her hand and helping her take relaxing breathes. No screams of pain or over the top drama.
Yes I’ve been in the room for a 2nd trimester abortion. Yes I heard the machine yes I saw the abortion and no I’m not horrified. I am glad I was able to support the woman who needed me to be her doula that day.
I have also sat in the recover room and helped women talk through their emotions of relief and sometimes a bit of grief (all valid).

As an escort I talked to a few women who changed their minds after coming to the clinic and I gave them referrals for support. I didn’t mourn them not having a procedure as a reproductive justice activist I want to do everything possible to support that decision and her right to parent.

As someone in my community who is known to support abortion rights I regularly have women tell me their abortion stories years after their procedure. Sometimes as many as 20 years later because they’ve felt they never had anyone they could talk to. They all pretty much echo the same thing. They don’t feel they made the wrong choice but they have felt judged and shamed by people’s views about abortions. Like the other escort said many don’t talk to family thinking they will react like protesters. So they carry a secret that shouldn’t be shameful.

So I agree with the author GO FUCK YOURSELF! Quickly and with efficiency!

See it seems that the author of this ‘letter’ has escorts confused with antis. We who have and do escort do it so people can receive healthcare without being harassed. We don’t have an agenda to push regarding what choice patients make that’s an anti thing. I know for me I just want patients to have a supportive non judgmental fact based space to do it.

Sidewalk shamers don’t provide that.

Seriously?!?

Blogmaster’s Note: This’ll be a long one, but worth it. Also, if you come up with some some anti-choice argument BS, have your shit recent and accurate, or you WILL be shown the door.

Wow, when this piece of dreck popped up in a private FB group for escorts, it was universally panned. I don’t tend to link to the sentient bullshit machine that is LifeSiteNews, but for this opportunity, I made an exception. So I clicked and read this oh so special letter to us Clinic Escorts.

And the moment the page load, I’m assaulted by an autoplay pledge plea (I know I have Flashblock, so what the fuck?) of two twin douchebags who I’d never heard of, one of which introduces them as “I’m David Benham and this is my twin sister Jason.”

Mmm-mmm, that’s some tasty transphobic humor right there.

Anyway, they apparently lost some house-flipping…

View original post 2,488 more words

It’s Easy To Be ‘Pro-Life’ Until…You Need An Abortion

Abortion

Originally Posted on Defending The Last Clinic August 20, 2013 It contains a few edits (this appeared on my old blog)

The sun was beating down through the car window, my mouth was dry and my legs felt like lead. I was trying to figure out how I ended up here. In my mind I knew how- I was a bad girl I was stupid and careless. I kept telling myself all those things. How did I let this happen? I couldn’t be pregnant now. So there I was 22 years old mother of 5 about to do something I thought I would never do. Have an abortion. See I wasn’t like those other women, you know the ones, the irresponsible ones who didn’t “own their life choices”. The reason I had 5 kids is I owned my “mistakes”.

Abortion had never even been an option for me when I found out I was pregnant at 16. In fact the first place I called to go for a pregnancy test wasn’t Planned Parenthood it was Birthright a anti choice organization that offered services much like a Crisis Pregnancy Center. I couldn’t go to Planned Parenthood when I was 16 because everything in my upbringing had told me they were evil and I had believed them.

As a little girl sitting in the dark stained wooden pews of our fundamentalist Baptist church I often had questions. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t wear pants when I was younger and then when we switched churches God magically changed his mind and I could. Only I still had to always wear skirts to church ALWAYS! That always made me wonder what would happen if I didn’t would God come down and smite me? I mean I was only one little girl in Wisconsin -I always figured God had better things to do.

I often wondered why women couldn’t be church leaders or speak in church except during “women’s events”. I was always full of questions. It was never ok to question the good book and the teachings of God. So even though I was a questioning type I never really thought twice about my church’s stance on abortion or all the things I learned as a child and adolescent about abortion and sex. I did mention I was raised fundamentalist evangelical Baptist, right? Think Jerry Falwell, (except oddly my grandmother strongly disliked him) John Hagee and Pat Robinson kinds of ideas. There were lots of rules about life, especially sex and well women we don’t get a say.

Rule one-was sex is BAAAADDDD I mean it bad! It was dirty and bad, until it magically became good when you found the right God fearing (same race) man and got married. Then sex and babies were great- actually required. In fact if you couldn’t have babies you weren’t suppose to be too shocked if your husband wanted a woman who could provide him children. (that is a whole other post) Rule two- If you were a girl who was dumb enough to get raped or slutty and tempted some good man to have sex with you or weak enough to let some bad man tempt you and you got knocked up- tough cookies for you. Abortion was NEVER an option. Not for rape, not for incest, and especially not for slutty girls who should have heeded God’s will and kept their lady parts to themselves (By the way NO masturbation either y’all if you’re horny just PRAY). Hormonal birth control is abortion and abortion is murder.

I am a child of the 80s. Anti abortion rhetoric was very popular in my church then. I heard often about the holocaust being committed against the unborn. How I should be proud as the mulatto child of a single mom that she owned up to her sin and had me. I really couldn’t thank people enough for calling me a black bastard baby on the sly. I was 12 when my mother experienced a stillbirth it was one more reason to demonize women who get abortions. How dare they throw away the chance she would give anything to have back. What ungrateful people they must be. I heard over and over how only selfish women chose to destroy the life God had blessed them with. This was usually paired with the story of some good Christian family who was just waiting to adopt but couldn’t. Of course it was because of abortion they couldn’t adopt. More than anything I heard how Planned Parenthood injured, maimed, and killed women (lies). That they didn’t provide real health care and were only out to make money. The accusation that always stuck with me was that they would give you an abortion even if you weren’t pregnant.

I grew up hearing those things until I was 14 and they were still with me as my friend and I walked past protesters who called me a murderer, told me to “be responsible”, they would “help me love my baby” and yelled at me not to “kill my baby”. They didn’t know or understand that I had 5 babies at home to care for, one under a year old and a doctor who had warned me not to get pregnant for at least two years or it could kill me. I didn’t want to be there but I NEEDED to be there. I hadn’t wanted to go through the state mandated 24 hour waiting period, the informed consent lecture by phone or the stupid video of what an abortion is. Not because any of it made me feel guilty it all just seem like an insult to my intellect. It just drew out the inevitable. I knew what I was there for and my mind was made up before I arrived.

I sat in the waiting room looking around at the other women thinking “I wonder what her story is”? They all looked different. Some were calm, some scared, some tired and none of us looked like we wanted to be there. Some of them may have been “good girls” who would go back to church on Sunday and act like abortion is evil. I held my friend’s hand and I waited. They finally called me back for my ultrasound. The technician, who had been chatting with me, got strangely quiet and then called the doctor in. The doctor introduced himself and said “Ms. Roberts there is no heartbeat and it seems the embryo stopped progressing several weeks ago. You are going to have a miscarriage. You should go home and contact your regular doctor especially if you don’t start bleeding in a few days. If you don’t have a regular doctor you can follow up with us. We will refund your money on your way out” He smiled at me gently and patted my hand. My mind was blown! They were suppose to be giving me a back alley abortion procedure right then and there according to everything I was ever taught.

I had already began to question my views but this meant I had been lied to flat out for years! The morning I got up to go and get an abortion I still considered myself pro-life. I was one of those people that said I would never have an abortion but what you do is your business. That was a big step for me from abortion is always murder and those women are going to hell. Still for me I was not one of them. Those women were irresponsible I had a medical reason that made me different, right?

The truth is, it was that day that I realized I wasn’t different than “those women” and although I was sent home that day I am no better or worse than the 1 in 3 women who will have an abortion in their lifetime. Had they not sent me home I would have had that abortion and several days later when my body spontaneously aborted I was relieved to no longer be pregnant. I will never apologize for not wanting to be pregnant or unwilling to take the medical risk at that time to have another child. In all the years since I never mourned the loss of that pregnancy the way I did my other miscarriage either. That was a different time in my life, different emotions and different circumstances.

I left that clinic the same mother, daughter, employee, and citizen I was before. No better no less. I wasn’t dirty I wasn’t a bad person. I went to the doctor like other women before me and other women since.

That day I learned far from being crazed money hungry boogie bears abortion providers are compassionate health care providers (not saying there are never bad ones there are bad docs EVERYWHERE). Planned Parenthood took good care of me. They were kind and patient. The exact same things I see every week at Jackson Women’s Health Organization. They also called and followed up with me everyday until I miscarried. They didn’t have to do that. I wasn’t really their problem anymore. After I had almost died during a miscarriage from lack of care at a Catholic hospital this level of care and concern was refreshing and shocking.

The biggest lesson I learned is it’s easy to be pro life (anti choice) until you are the one who needs or wants an abortion. It’s easy to tell other people what to do when you can never get pregnant. It is easy to project your feelings of wanting a child or having lost a child onto another woman’s pregnancy experience (as I did when my mother experienced a stillbirth) when it’s not you who needs one. At the end of the day none of that matters for the lives and choices of individual women and families.

Families just like mine.

Help When It’s Needed

Classism, Income Inequality, Reproductive Justice

By Laurie Bertram Roberts

This was originally published in the Jackson Free Press on Oct. 2, 2013 and was posted on my old blog

Years ago when I was a young mother, I worked two, sometimes three, low-wage restaurant jobs. This was not easy work. It was extraordinarily taxing—not only on my body but my mind. Wait staff have a lot of tasks to complete. Plus, they have to smile and be pleasant even when customers and management serve up a big old side of mistreatment.

Working those kinds of jobs always involves much more hard work than money, which is why I had two and three at a time. But even when I worked two full-time and one part-time job, I still couldn’t make ends meet.

Recently, fast-food workers across the country went on strike. They asked for something fairly simple: a living wage. Make no mistake: The multinational companies that employ these workers can afford to pay better. But many from the right-wing political sphere called striking workers greedy, lazy and un-American.

Fast-forward to the congressional debate over food-stamp benefits (or SNAP), which has the potential to affect many of these same workers. I keep hearing from conservatives—and even some liberals—that “those people” just need to work harder. If only “they” would do that, then the collective American “we” wouldn’t have to take care of “them.” The problem with that thinking is that many people who receive SNAP do work.

Surprisingly absent from the broader discussion of responsibility has been the topic of corporate responsibility in the matter. When companies pay their employees fairly, people who work don’t need food stamps. I find this disjointed thinking odd and non-congruent. It seems as if, in the eyes of some, the working poor are wrong no matter what they do.

In all my working years—on and off public assistance—I have contributed to the community. I am raising epic, awesome kids (yes, I am biased). I resent it when others imply that because people need assistance to put food on the table, they are drug addicts, lazy or worth less than other people.

Every person on assistance has a story. Some may have stories you approve of, and some may not. At the end of the day, I would like to think I live in a country that believes even people we don’t like deserve to eat, one that is willing to feed people in need even when we don’t approve of every food choice. I want to have faith that I live in a country that believes providing free school lunches to hungry children is a good and moral thing to do.

I hope my country shows me I’m right.

Welcome To My New Blog

Uncategorized

Warning: This Blogger Writes While Black, Smart & Poor-Sarcasm & Sharp Critique Of Oppression Expected

Welcome to my new blog! I hope to post far more regular content on here than I did on my previous blog The Intelligent Statistic Speaks (I’ll be reposting some of the posts from there). Let me introduce myself I’m Laurie I go by the smartstatisic. I’m a black, queer, disabled, feminist activist, writer, doula and low income mother of seven living in Mississippi. I do several other things if you hang out here I’m sure I’ll write about them.

The point of this blog is pretty simple. It’s me commenting about the world using a black feminist reproductive justice lens. You probably won’t like my blog if you’re a TERF (Trans Exclusive Radical Feminist), if you think intersectionality is too much work, if you don’t like talking about classism and if you don’t like talking about racism or oppression. I write about those things A LOT. I also write about the “a word” often; abortion, abortion, ABORTION! I’m not scared of it or ashamed. So if you are this isn’t the blog for you. If you’re squeamish about sex and sexuality you might want to leave now as well. On this blog unlike my old one I will be exploring sexual topics a lot more. Basically if it’s a topic that can be considered a feminist or reproductive justice issue I will likely write about it.

If none of those things bother you, in fact if they are your kinda of thing and you’re not adverse to the word fuck (I almost forgot to add I curse often and creatively) please join me!