Emily Articulated: Call me a snowflake

By Emily Erickson
Reader Columnist

I came across a post on the “Sandpoint Local Forum” Facebook page from a woman outraged that an emergency contraception pill had been placed in the public bathroom of a local restaurant. Alongside it were female condoms and a pamphlet on abortion. She was appalled that these items were “within reach of children.” Though she insisted she “didn’t want to spark a debate” and acknowledged that “not everyone shared her values about the sanctity of life,” she declared the restaurant had permanently lost her business over what she determined was an unforgivable ethical breach.

Of course, the comments section was full of people in the throes of debate. One man argued, “If something like this is left out in a public restroom within reach of kids, it’s easy to see how a child could mistake it for candy and swallow the pill. That’s a real safety concern, no matter your stance on the product itself.” 

Others worried about being forced to discuss abortion with their children, while some debated whether a restaurant should be offering these resources at all.

The pill in question, Julie, is a one-dose emergency contraceptive containing levonorgestrel. It works by temporarily delaying ovulation and does not affect an existing pregnancy. For a child, swallowing one by accident might cause a stomach ache — unpleasant, but not wholly dangerous. In other words, the imagined threat is far greater than the real one.

Which raises a larger question: What kinds of dangers do we collectively choose to get outraged about, and which ones do we tolerate? If you’re furious about what children might encounter in a bathroom, you should be just as furious about the proven dangers they face every day in schools, neighborhoods and public spaces. Right?

A 2025 report by KFF (formerly The Kaiser Family Foundation) noted that there have been 420 school shootings since 1999, with more than 390,000 students being exposed to gun violence at school. Firearms are now the No. 1 cause of death for children and teens in the United States — not car accidents, not illness, not “colorful boxes with pills” left in a restaurant bathroom. Parents across the country have to explain Active Shooter Drills to their kids, just as others explain why assault rifles are allowed at parades and family-friendly events.

The “sanctity of life” doesn’t stop when a child is born, so why does outrage always seem to stop there?

Call me a libtard, but there is nothing I wouldn’t do to address the No. 1 cause of harm to children in the U.S.

Call me a snowflake, but I’m angry that my family in Minnesota cried when sending my nephew to school the day after a shooting in Minneapolis — one that took place in a neighborhood just like theirs.

Call me woke, but I’m furious that my friend in Wisconsin, who homeschooled her kids up until this year for fear of guns, has to grapple with the fear and anxiety over her decision to put them in the public education system — forced to reconcile the parts of her that want her kids to have all the experiences she had with the reality that the places they go to have those experiences are dangerous.

If you care about protecting children, you should be advocating for laws proven to reduce gun violence: safe storage requirements, extreme risk protection orders and enhanced background checks — not voting for politicians who strip away those protections.

I don’t know the woman who posted on Facebook, or what her position is on gun laws. But I do know that in American politics, “pro-life” too often seems to stop at the moment of birth. In states like Idaho, where abortion is tightly restricted, gun laws remain dangerously weak (Idaho boasts an “F” rating on safe gun legislation from the Giffords Law Center).

Those are the mental gymnastics at play for so many: condemning one perceived existential danger to children, while shrugging off the leading cause of child death in this country. If you’re going to be “pro-life,” you can’t back handspring over the lives that are already here.

Emily Erickson is a writer and business owner with an affinity for black coffee and playing in the mountains. Connect with her online at www.bigbluehat.studio.