The lives of millions of people in Afghanistan have been handed over to an oppressive force ever since the withdrawal of American troops. When I saw this on the news, I had thought it was a good thing that America had withdrawn because I thought their presence was what was causing more conflict. I also kept in mind the thousands of soldiers that had died in the past during the war. To me the withdrawal meant an end to a tiresome war. Although, with this thinking I hadn’t considered the point of view of Afghan civilians. 

I stumbled upon a post on Instagram that covered facts about the current situation at the time. I learned more about what the withdrawal actually meant for the people of Afghanistan. Hundreds of regions quickly began to fall to Taliban forces, and soon even the president had fled. The way of life for most Afghans are at risk of being forcefully changed. I slowly started to side with the feelings of those that were upset at the U.S. government for withdrawing. In a related post there were soldiers that were stationed in Afghanistan and even some veterans who voiced their opinions on the issue. In general, they expressed that it was a cowardice move of the U.S. government and that the soldiers themselves felt upset that they couldn’t keep on protecting Afghan civilians. 

The war is more than just a battle for national security but for the lives of innocent people. The withdrawal means loss of rights for the men and women of Afghanistan. It means the U.S. is turning back on their basic ideal of protecting human rights. 

During early May 2021, Texas Governor Greg Abbott signed into law the “heartbeat” bill, prohibiting abortions as early as 6-weeks when the fetal heartbeat is first detectable. I was informed of this news through a Texas friend’s Instagram story. My typical mindless tapping was stopped dead within its tracks. I expanded the post, read every word, then scoured the internet for news articles and more information. “When you factor in the time it takes to confirm a pregnancy, consider your options and make a decision, schedule an appointment and comply with all the restrictions politicians have already put in place for patients and providers, a six-week ban essentially bans abortion outright,”(1) notes Dyana Limon-Mercado, executive director of Planned Parenthood Texas Votes. I was at a lost for words. Texas, a state I lived in for 9 years– although never agreed with politically– had made the decision to virtually reverse the decision of Roe v. Wade. The world had begun to turn backwards, losing sight of the things those before us fought for.

This bill was only one of several opponents in women’s right to an abortion signed into effect during the past year.

I was, I am infuriated by the outrageous actions of these political systems. Roe v. Wade granted by mother, my sister, and myself the right to choose. I struggle to comprehend the rationality of men controlling the presence of this vital choice in women’s health. I consider myself lucky to inhabit a state that shows no interest in banning abortions, however I can only think of the friends, acquaintances, strangers in Texas who may not have the same reassurance.

And so I advocate for change, I support organizations that take radical steps in challenging bills such as these. As a premedical student, I began considering a future as an OBGYN; a specialty I had never given much thought to in the past, although a specialty that would grant me access to the front line of women’s health. I would play a vital role in supporting women’s right to choose, and become an informed opponent to abortion bans.

As a recently coming-out, or, came out, pansexual Latinx woman in NYC, there are only two sides: you either support, respect, identify with the community, or you don’t. Surely, religion and morals can be argued or discussed, but it all comes down to internalized homophobia. It took me a few years to find myself, and in that process, I have met some of the nicest people that exist in Bushwick, specifically community organizers and ambassadors at Make the Road NY. It happened two summers ago: Bushwick Pride. The first pride that I had ever went to, and in this moment of my life, for the first time I truly felt like I could be myself without judgement or criticism. I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt understood. I felt alive. And there was not a single ounce of disagreement around me.

It saddens me to see that in the most recent of times, however, with the pandemic, that in spite of needing community and togetherness to make it through this the most, the LGBTQIA+ community could do anything but catch a break. I see people like “mattxiv” on Instagram constantly and relentlessly fighting not just for himself, but for the justice of everyone in the LGBTQIA+ community. He receives so much support, with occasional bashing, but his followers are quick to shut him down; he even defends himself from time to time.

A person like Matt makes me want to become a role model for people like me, but I don’t have that courage the way he does. Seeing Matt and others on Instagram posting about safety measures and redefining gender and sexuality stereotypes has opened up my eyes to the spectrum and has helped me understand other people with similar backgrounds and experiences, not just in the LGBTQIA+ community.

Once again: I’m a pansexual. I stand with the LGBTQIA+.