The Personal Politics of Baby Killing

Georgia has proposed an abortion ban similar to the one that was defeated by South Dakota voters in November '06. I would write out all my feelings about the bill, but I've decided to let you fine folks just read it for yourself

Aside from the outrage I felt at many of the gross misrepresentations in this piece of legislation (i.e. the idea that we KNOW life begins at conception, that abortion contradicts feminist values, and that the economy is suffering as a result of abortion), there were a few points that struck a chord with me.

Let me say first and foremost, that I question the statistics presented about post-procedure psychological trauma. I hesitate to believe these statistics due largely to the fact that no sources are cited and I doubt the framers of this legislation looked for objective studies. I have encountered many women who have had abortions and not turned into baby-hallucinating basket cases afterwards. To claim that most women suffer these kind of extreme emotional repercussions is a sweeping generalization.

And contrary to popular pro-life belief, not all women who support abortion are thrilled with the idea of heading to a clinic to terminate a pregnancy. But sometimes it happens, despite careful planning.

That's how it happened to me.

A few years ago I discovered that I was pregnant and had no where to turn. I could't tell the father: in a moment of extreme selfish ass-headedness (extreme even for him) he told me he'd rather I "take care of it" if it ever happened. Take care of it and leave him blissfully ignorant, of course. I considered telling him just for spite, but I knew it would ultimately make things harder for me so I kept it to myself. I didn't have anyone to talk to or any shoulders to cry on because I was at a point in my life where I didn't have many people to trust, and the information about my pregnancy and decision to terminate would have made several areas of my life more difficult.

I weighed my options and knew that abortion was my only realistic choice. I had no way to support myself, much less a child, and I couldn't in good conscience bring a life into the world and abandon it for someone else to take care of. So I went the only place I knew to go: my friendly, neighborhood Planned Parenthood.

Contrary to what anti-choice propaganda tells you, they were good to me there. They didn't pressure me, they gave me plenty of information to help me make my decision and they provided support for me when I had no one else in my life that I trusted.

Because my decision was my own, because I was sure of what I wanted to do and determined to do what was best for me (and what I still believe was best for my baby), I had a regret-free abortion. Do I still think about it? Yes, sometimes I do. Am I sad? A little, but only sad that I got pregnant at such a bad time.

I survived the whole scenario relatively unscathed, but I know that many are not so lucky. One of the problems with the pro-choice movement today is that we are so busy arguing that abortion must be an option for women that we neglect to see the women around us who struggle with the decision they made or are making to terminate a pregnancy.

Acknowledging that it's a painful decision is not the same thing as saying it's the wrong one. We shouldn't be afraid to help our wounded sisters, yet we've left them to find support from the pro-life movement. Where are our post-abortion support groups? Where do we go to find solidarity? Where can we talk about our feelings about abortion after we've had one? Where do we turn when emotional consequences manifest themselves? We shouldn't be forced to turn to the pro-lifers. Not to the people who will beat us down and tell us we need to be forgiven.

We need to take care of these women within our own community. We need to tell them it's ok that they terminated their pregnancies and it's ok if they don't feel strong or empowered about it. In addition, we need to be there before the abortion. No woman should ever have to go it alone like I did. No woman should have to march down clinic stairs by herself while strangers call her a murderer. We need to find a way to reach out and we need to understand that ignoring the complexity of abortion doesn't help our fight: it hurts the women who get caught in the cross-fire between the pro-choice and pro-life movements.

With the Georgia legislature proposing an abortion ban and the nation lying in wait to see what the Supreme Court will do if/when someone challenges Roe v. Wade, this is the perfect time for the pro-choice movement to be honest about the consequences of abortion while strengthening the fight to keep it safe and legal.

The I in Community

I've been one of the lucky few in Denver who has had no reason to shovel snow in the past few weeks. I no longer own a car, which eliminates the need to shovel parking spaces or drive ways and I'm a renter, so my property manager takes care of the entry-ways to my building.

But today, for the first time all winter, I picked up a shovel to do some damage control on the rooftop of the building of my friends Christy and Sarah. Our pal Ian came along to help out with the manual labor. I'm not sure why I volunteered except that it was the right thing to do. There was a rather daunting task at hand, one that I knew would be easier for my friends if they had some help, and my only plan for the afternoon was to spend time with them.

Christy and Sarah live in a building with about 10 other condos. Everyone pays HOA dues and everyone is expected to pitch in with these types of building related chores. The problem is, everybody doesn't help: Christy and Sarah have done most of the shoveling. It might be understandable that no one else has pitched in if the girls had just taken the responsibility upon themselves when the first winter storm hit the city, but when the blizzard of '06 struck Denver, Christy and Sarah were in Tahiti. They returned to find the front steps covered in about 4 inches of snow and ice and the back parking lot barely drive-able because no one took the initiative to look out for everyone else's safety.

I made a comment today that I thought it funny that the two girls from Mississippi were the ones to get out and battle the snow accumulation to keep the roof from collapsing in on everyone. Sarah turned to me and said "It's because the girls from Mississippi are the only ones with a sense of community. And that has nothing to do with where we come from."

It got me thinking. What communities do I belong to? What responsiblity do I have to my community? What responsibility does my community have to me?

While reflecting on these questions I realized that they each have multiple answers. I belong to many communites: my apartment building, my neighborhood, my city, my state, my country, and even a larger global community.

Most people have a basic understanding of how to be a good citizen, a good neighbor, or a good friend. But how often do we live it? Do we invest energy into those around us or do we use them to energize us?

So much of what is wrong in our nation and our world could be solved with a little unity--a little community. Rather than isolating ourselves from the people who live with us, beside us, and around us, perhaps we should reach out and give a little back.

"There is no I in team" we've been told, but there is an I in community. And the truth is, to accomplish anything, we must all sacrifice and focus our energies in the same direction. We'll never achieve peace or prosperity or even a snow-less rooftop unless we each give of ourselves and stand side-by-side as a strong, unified force.