November.

I have a broken spirit today. Of course I do, I'm in Wisconsin, where everything feels broken this morning. Although, I've gotta say, coffee is helping. But the broken piece of pride inside has me thinking about the future. I'll have a child one day. Hell, maybe two. I want children. Sure, maybe they'll be the product of a sperm donor in a catalog, because LET'S BE REAL, my track record with love is also broken. Or I suppose it could Ryan Braun's love child... but look at me, digressing. Any way we look at it, I want to be a mother.

Maybe I'll have a daughter. She'll be amazing, and I'll dress her up in adorable clothes and feel immense pride when I can finally pull her fine, toddler hair into a ponytail for the first time. I'll love her and teach her the things that I know about life. She'll grow up loved. Maybe she'll tell me one day, "Mom, I'm in love." And maybe that person she loves will be another girl. I won't bat an eye, and I'll say, "Honey, I'm so happy for you. Love is a gift." Of course I won't bat an eye, because who fucking cares? My child is in love.

But my child will be a woman, and we'll live in a country where women continue to live unequally to their male counterparts. My child will be a woman who loves another woman, and that will be seen as blasphemous. Immoral. Unrecognized. My child won't live life to the fullest because our country will suppress her. She'll have no control over who she can legally marry, how much money she'll make and what decisions she makes for her body.

I'm only 30 years old, I don't have a child, and I already hate my child's future.

Today I feel powerless in my home state, but I will not feel powerless in my country. Bring on November.