Teen Vogue might want to rename itself Abortion Magazine, as often as it pushes the issue on young, impressionable girls.

In an op-ed this week for the magazine, Solange Azor touted her pro-abortion comedy tour while encouraging girls to “have fun” promoting the killing of unborn babies.

Azor works with Lady Parts Justice League, which describes itself as a comedy-driven pro-abortion organization. Founded by comedian Lizz Winstead, the group puts on comedy shows across the country to encourage activism and normalize abortion.

Azor, who interned with the group in 2017, said she was hesitant at first to think of comedy as a way to promote abortion.

“Even as a comedian, I was unsure that bridging the two – especially for a seemingly emotional topic like abortion – was a recipe for success,” she wrote.

A year later, she now is convinced that it is.

“Lady Parts Justice League offers a new sort of abortion politics: one which incorporates the frequently obfuscated space of joy, pleasure, and relief in discussions about abortion,” she wrote. “One that pushes its members to be intentional about their activism and ideology, to find ways they can use their individual skills to support local abortion clinics and allies, and have fun while doing it.”

One of the things the pro-abortion group does is badger pro-life sidewalk counselors who are trying to reach women outside abortion facilities.

During a stop in Michigan, Azor said their minivan pulled up to the Northland Family Planning Clinic blaring “Beyoncé to overpower the chants from the stunned anti-abortion protesters and energize the enthusiastic clinic staff.”

Azor said they try to annoy the pro-lifers by shouting over them, distracting them with questions and comments, displaying huge posters to cover up their materials and making jokes about them. It’s all part of their effort to keep sidewalk counselors from offering information and support to moms and babies.

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“… LPJL shows just how brilliant of a pairing comedy and grassroots abortion activism can be,” she said. “Since [abortion] clinics can be the site of violence, the Lady Parts Justice League also aims to bring joy in the form of barbecues, giant parking lot hot tub parties, and more.”

Of course, Azor did not mean the violence committed against unborn babies at the abortion facilities they visit.

Overall, the comedy tour’s intention is to normalize the killing of unborn babies for any reason a woman wants to at any point in her pregnancy. She wrote:

To be pro-abortion is to face your own potential internalized stigma and recognize that abortion should not be exclusively about access, but about normalizing a medical procedure and life process. It does not mean you hope that every person has an abortion, but it means you advocate for the existence of abortion, not just its accessibility. It’s kind of like being pro-bypass surgery: we love its existence, we appreciate the options it offers people, we aren’t hoping our loved ones have to have one anytime soon.

Though she acknowledged that some women do struggle emotionally because of their abortions, she claimed it is “dangerous” to describe abortion as a difficult experience.

“However, the danger of only amplifying this specific narrative is that it becomes the dominant one, allowing for anti-choice ideologies to exploit that emotion and present abortion as predominantly emotionally disruptive for people,” Azor wrote.

Most Americans probably would share Azor’s initial reaction to a pro-abortion comedy tour. Abortion is not funny at all. It is an issue that continues to deeply divide America after more than 40 years. Though abortion activists try to pass an abortion off as a mere medical procedure, the long-term debate and the deep tension surrounding the issue indicate there is much more to it. And the reason is precisely because an abortion kills a unique, living human being.