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The Highs & Horrors of Counter-Protesting: A Satirical But Completely True Story

The tower bell tolls, and a stream of pale nuns cascades down the steps of Healy Hall

“WHERE ARE YOUR MEN!?” the aggressively proud wearer of an ill-fitting pro-life tee barks

The ones I’m friends with are busy studying ‘cause, you know, we actually GO here.

Some are working part-time jobs to help their single mothers pay the bills, others are busy protesting downtown.

The ones I’m not so keen on, however, may have reaped the sublime pleasure of being your seatmates for the last hour’s conference

“Are women’s voices not enough”

Though I genuinely inquired in the moment, notice how I don’t write this simple utterance as a question now because, sadly, women’s voices aren’t enough

Clearly they are neither enough nor equal in Trump’s “united” states

I’m not sure if my favorite part of the afternoon was being lectured by the proud pregnant woman that, “NO,” it was NOT in fact her body, or being pitifully prayed for by the condescending Christian

In my opinion, a peaceful protest in which students sing catchy slogans promoting human rights does not warrant, let alone demand, a dozen armed officers suspiciously watching our every move

Nor do I think holding colorful, hand-made posters endorsing a women’s health clinic should elicit disgusted shrieks from ADULT event coordinators

But again. This is just my opinion. And since I’m a woman, apparently it’s not enough anyway

Our chants ruffled feathers, and our posters photobombed pictures

I have never felt so alive

But also never more terrified–especially by the unsettling whisper in my ear warning