Past President Obama

Like I said, the Lord is moving mountains for me through this med change. The snarls from the past are coming undone.

In late 2008, after the November election, I wrote an email to President Elect Barak Obama’s Transition Team. It was easy to find him online. He wanted his Presidency to be “transparent.”

I emailed him about my abortion at a Planned Parenthood clinic here in Allentown, Pennsylvania in 1990. I told of screaming obscenities at the non-English-speaking doctor during the unbelievably painful, awake procedure; that i had been told I would see a doctor, as I was hesitant about going through with the procedure; desperate; but I only saw the abortionist, who did a 1-minite exam to verify that I was pregnant; then, they started.

I had sent the email to various family members and to the local, Catholic Christian radio station; there was a long list of email addresses in the header. I was distressed and infuriated by Mr. Obama’s making a pork barrel issue out of abortion: he just threw out there that he would ‘of course,’ throw out President Bush’s Presidential Initiatives regarding abortion as if, ‘of course’ people dont really care about that. Well, I was there to let him know that they do. Then, I realized that i had upset his whole apple cart. He just really handnt considered that abortion that really wrong. And he made a big stink about broadly widening the availability of abortion.

And MY NAME WAS MUD. I had already written Letters to the Editor during the election campaign that used unfortunate language as i tried to show why a black President should particularly stand against abortion. So, I sailed into 8 years on the wrong side of the leadership of my country and of a racial coup d’etat that I would have been excited about if it werent for my opposition to abortion. Finally i am making my peace with the powers that be in the race wars in this country with the help of ny cuttent, certified CHRISTIAN counselor who has helped me overcome my RAGE at how I was treated by dark-skinned America after all the the thought and love I had focused on Black Americans through making donations to the Southern Poverty Law Center; supporting busing to my all-white school district and the like.

She reconnected me with the cool side of my fellow, Black Anericans with the song “Imagine Me” by Kirk Franklin–check it out online. So now I can go to the Wawa–where I always got a hard time–without marking people according to race, color and creed. I am just a fellow human being.

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