On this spring Justice Ride, I became a pseudo-celebrity
when I made the cover photo of the University of Florida newspaper story on
Created Equal’s outreach on campus. Some of the other riders had me sign their
copies. But there was something much more important about the photo.

One of them was Marla Cardamone,
a teenager who was pressured by a social worker to have an abortion. Marla died
of septicemia after abortionist Michael Weinberger erred in administering an
injection in his Pittsburgh abortion facility.
The other is of a 5-month fetus who was dismembered in a
dilation and evacuation abortion, which involves grabbing the limbs, twisting
to break them off, and pulling them out. The head is crushed and pulled out
last. Before the fetus bleeds to death, she feels every bit of the pain of
dismemberment at this stage.
Marla nor this baby were able to sign that photo. Their
lives were taken prematurely by abortion. I made this clear on the bus after our
second day at the University of Florida.
“Yeah, it’s cool that I’m on the cover photo. But what’s much
more important, and what will be remembered much more than me, is that the
victims are in that photo, and everyone that reads the article is going to see
that,” I said.
The interesting thing was, I wasn’t supposed to be on this
Justice Ride. Two spring breaks ago, when I was a junior at NKU, I made the
decision to go to Beach
Reach after spending my first two spring breaks on the Justice
Ride, a decision I don’t at all regret. Beach Reach had a profound impact
on me and my ability to share the gospel. That summer, I went on two trips with
Created Equal, but the next spring break I again went on Beach
Reach, then worked all the next summer and did not go on any mission trips.
So, even though this was my ninth mission trip with Created Equal and sixth Justice Ride, I had not done anything
with the organization since July of 2016.
This was largely due to my schedule. My senior year of
college, I worked or had class at least five days a week, sometimes six or
seven. Then in the summer I worked about three days a week and was frequently out
of town because of work.
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Some of our group at the Gulf of Mexico |
Some of this was also due to my disenchantment with the
pro-life movement stemming from the 2016 presidential election, when I took a strong
stance against voting for Donald Trump even in the general election. So,
between these two things, I wasn’t sure if I would be involved in any future
pro-life work.
My goal was to get a group together to go to Beach Reach on
my spring break, but that fell through. The door opened for the Justice Ride,
and I saw God in the works. But I had no idea how this would go.
I am so grateful that things worked out as they did. This
was the most comfortable I have ever been in outreach, the boldest I have been,
and there were some great mentorship opportunities as one of the oldest and
most experienced team members. I loved to see the passion coming from 14- and
15-year-olds, who had the ability to debate philosophy majors.
One thing I learned was to trust the process. Created Equal
does not demand perfection of its volunteers. For many of the students, this
was their first time doing this sort of outreach. They were trained, and then
they were put in the field. There were times when I heard them in discussions
and I wanted to jump in their conversation. But I remember my first Justice
Ride. It took time, experience, and further training through the summer
internship to get where I am. They’ll learn and grow as I did.
I also had a personal emphasis on trying to look very relaxed
and comfortable to make myself more approachable, since I do not naturally look
the most approachable. I was able to put this into practice throughout the week.
But the most memorable conversation came by accident.
At the University of North Florida, two girls came in with a
portable speaker, maybe just passing by, or maybe to drown out the open mic that
was taking place. A number of our team members tried to talk to them, but they
had no interest. Eventually, the police made them leave since they didn’t have
a permit. I had recognized their music, so I mentioned it to them as they
walked by and had a quick laugh. I just wanted to be personable; just because
we disagree doesn’t mean we have to be rude.
They kept walking. But then they came back.
“Hey, I was wondering, like, you are really chill, and you
liked our music, and even now when I’m talking I can tell you’re really
listening, so I was wondering, why do you believe what you do? Why are you out
here doing this?”
Doors are opened in weird ways. They asked about birth
control, which actually helped illustrate my point of human equality. If birth
control is an abortifacient, it prevents a new life from implanting in the
uterine wall. Those types of birth control kill human beings.
“I realize from the outside that seems like we’re pushing it
really far, being really extreme,” I said, “But if we’re being consistent with
human equality, we have to take it that far.”
“I like that term, ‘human equality,’ that’s a good way to
put your argument,” one replied.
I found out one of them is actually from Ohio. We talked
about our college majors. Then they posed the question I was eventually expecting.
“I have one last question, and it’s getting a little personal.”
“That’s okay.”
“Are you a virgin?”
“Yes.”
This also helped me illustrate why I believe abortion should
be illegal.
“As a Christian, I think abortion is immoral, and I think
sex before marriage is immoral. But, I don’t think sex before marriage should
be illegal. Consensual sex doesn’t have a victim. Abortion does. Our rights
should end when they infringe on another’s more fundamental right. Abortion
takes an innocent human life.”
It was a good reminder that, while we may ask 75 people a
day what they think about abortion, they don’t see that every day. We have to
remember we’re not discussing this with hypotheticals. We’re discussing
abortion with people, with their own experiences and values that lead them to
believe what they do. And these girls had a legitimate care for women in difficult
circumstances, just as I do. We had different solutions, and we could discuss
that calmly.
When I was talking to Alfredo the next day, a pro-choice
person across the square began yelling at one of our team members.
“I don’t get why people are getting upset. We can discuss
this calmly, just like you and I are,” he said.
It wasn’t always easy to have this attitude. After a great
day at Florida, my last conversation was with a pompous student who brought in
so many red herrings that I couldn’t get a word in. He threw his education in
my face, not knowing that I am more educated than him, and not caring that
education in no way makes someone a greater authority on morality or abortion.
I was left angry, and asked myself why I put myself in the
position to be treated that way. We get cussed out, yelled at, flipped off, and
occasionally physically attacked. We are the most hated people on campus. We
attract protestors. A 14-year-old got inserted into a hypothetical of being
raped and impregnated (which is when my friend Silas stepped in and said, “You
can talk to me that way, but you will not talk to her that way”). I have never
been more mistreated than when I am with Created Equal.
Then I took a look at our signs. My
mistreatment is usually verbal. My most serious Justice Ride injury was when my
friend Joe lacerated my nose accidentally. But the babies—those fellow human
beings—they are being ripped apart every day. My persecution is nothing in
light of what they face, and unlike me, they are completely helpless.
My persecution is also nothing in comparison to the King of My
Heart, who died to give me life.
My passion is renewed. There is nothing I would rather
devote my life to.
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