This Is Not About Life

They are coming for us.
Not with weapons—
but with gavels.
With bills passed in midnight chambers.
With words like “heartbeat”
twisted into handcuffs.

They are banning abortion
in states where girls can't even vote—
forcing ten-year-olds to carry pregnancies
as if they asked for them.
They are stripping access to Plan B,
to IUDs,
to the knowledge of how our own bodies work.

They are gutting sex education
and calling it virtue.
Banning books
and calling it protection.
Pushing child marriage loopholes
and pretending it’s tradition.

They are erasing girls
who are trans,
who are queer,
who do not fit the shape they fear.
They are criminalizing healthcare
and calling it morals.

They want us quiet.
Pregnant.
Dependent.
Afraid.

But we remember what it cost
to climb out of silence.
We remember the sisters who bled
so we could breathe.
We remember coat hangers,
kitchen tables,
and funeral flowers.

We will not forget.

And we will not go back.

We are not here to make them comfortable.
We are here to dismantle the systems
that are trying to unmake us.

We are the granddaughters of witches
you didn’t burn—
but now we’re mothers,
and students,
and senators,
and surgeons,
and we will set fire to every lie
they pass into law.

They want to control birth,
but they fear what we might birth instead:
a generation of women
who bow to no one.

So we march.
We vote.
We shout.
We organize.
We rage,
because rage is a survival skill now.
Because they will not save us.
And because we are done asking.

This is not about life.

It’s about control.

And if they think we will kneel quietly
while they write us out of our own stories—
they have not been paying attention.

We are not going anywhere.
We are not going quietly.
We are not going back.