au·ton·o·my /ôˈtänəmē/ noun
the right or condition of self-government
I first learned about abortion when I was 11 as an audience member at Actors Theatre of Louisville. I can vividly recall the serious mood of the scene, the old-timey costumes, and the bluish light on the stage.
Here’s the story as I remember it: There are five women who’ve gathered. One of the women shares with her friends that she is pregnant. She’s terrified because she almost died when her last baby was born. The other women comfort her and proceed to make a potion for her to drink in order to terminate the pregnancy.
The scene had a sense of ritual about it, as the women reverently mixed the recipe with great knowledge of what they were doing. It clearly wasn’t their first time doing this, nor would it be their last. This ritual seemed like something that’d been passed down through the generations.
As an 11 year-old in that audience, I felt a little sad as I watched the scene but I didn’t question the necessity of what the characters were doing. I remember being awed and thinking to myself, “Women are powerful.”
Because my introduction to the topic of abortion was in no way political or dogmatic, I had an easy acceptance of it as a natural part of the human experience. (Thank you, theatre!)
The following year, I was babysitting for a 5 year-old boy who pointed to a photo in the newspaper and said matter-of-factly, “He wants to kill babies.” The boy was pointing to the smiling face of Presidential Nominee Michael Dukakis.
I chose not to respond in any way to his innocent statement and, instead, took the boy outside to play. But his words haunted me.
That was, I suppose, my introduction to a manipulated frame of a concept or idea. Because it wasn’t just a lie that the kid was told, he was given a very specific lens through which to see anything to do with politics. I mean, if you truly believe that a pro-choice politician or citizen wants to kill babies, you’re not going to listen to (or support) their policy ideas about nuclear warfare, labor rights, the death penalty, corporate taxes, gun legislation, healthcare, racial equality, or anything else for that matter. And you’re certainly not going to vote for that baby killer.
(The “pro-life” agenda by far-right politicians and oligarchs was propagated specifically for an overt power grab. It was ultimately a convenient distraction while they did their dirty work. Isn’t it interesting that, prior to 1980, the white evangelical movement was largely supportive of abortion rights? As were George HW Bush and Ronald Reagan? Isn’t it interesting that, in the 7-2 decision of Roe Vs Wade in 1973, 5 of those justices with the majority opinion were appointed by Republican presidents?)
Denying that abortion is and has always been a part of the human experience is ignorant and dangerous. Simply put, making it illegal won’t make it go away.
Since that evening in the theatre when I was 11, several friends have shared their abortion stories with me. Each woman’s story was different and yet each experience connected her to women around the world, to women throughout history, and to her own ancestors.
We must keep abortion legal, safe, and accessible. It’s healthcare for our fellow human beings. As the sign says…
p.s. If you, dear reader, are adamantly opposed to abortion, might I suggest putting that passion toward contraception access, sex education, affordable childcare, universal healthcare, and/or extended parental leave. Each of those policy areas could use your passion!
I just read an article in slate that cited an abortion "potion" as you say by Benjamin Franklin. It was very enlightening to see that abortion has been part of our American history before we were a nation. Thank you for this piece. I completely agree. I first learned about abortion in the seventh grade at my Catholic School. It was disturbing pictures of dismembered fetuses and one-sided horror stories. It took me a long time to undue that brainwashing.