I had an abortion 15 years ago – a decision I’ve never for a moment doubted or regretted. I share this story as a way of thanking the generations of women who fought for my right to make that choice. And I write this today, as John Kerry delivers his concession speech, because it has become clear to me that a majority of the American electorate has as its primary motivating factor the desire to impose its religious and moral beliefs on others.
Because a safe and legal abortion was available, I was spared a lifetime entanglement with a man who would have been a monumentally bad father. Because it was available, I did not bring into the world a child I wouldn’t have been able to support on my $16,000-a-year salary. A child would have been loved, but not wanted. I would have done my best, and it wouldn’t have been enough. To give birth to a child and give it up for adoption would have been unbelievably painful – pain totally unwarranted and unnecessary.
Unwarranted and unnecessary because I have never thought abortion was wrong. Had I believed I was killing a child, I would not have had an abortion. I aborted a fetus, not a child. It was a potential life – the same potential that exists every time a man and a woman have intercourse. You have to draw a line somewhere. I draw it at viability.
I’d used The Sponge, and three weeks after the first time I slept with a new lover, I missed my period. I told the man that I wanted an abortion. He thought my having a baby would be fun. He had no interest in getting married, or of getting a job to help support this fun baby. But he said he’d always wanted to see a little copy of himself. I told him I would be getting an abortion and he didn’t argue. He didn’t really give a shit. He would have made a hell of a father.
The procedure was simple and not terribly uncomfortable, despite the fact that I had it done in Vermont where, at least at that time, the only pain control offered was a couple of Tylenol. I went home with a feeling of overwhelming relief. I found the box of Sponges and threw them out. I called the boyfriend and told him I wouldn’t be seeing him again. And I realized I’d been very lucky.
Mine is a simple story – nothing dramatic. The drama would have come if I’d had to risk an illegal abortion or give birth to a child and then give it up. That would have been dramatic indeed, perhaps so dramatic that I wouldn’t have recovered.
George W. Bush and his followers are going to try to take away the right that I exercised. He’s almost certainly going to have the opportunity to appoint the Supreme Court justices he needs to support those efforts. Protecting our right to choose will become increasingly difficult. If we are to retain control over our own bodies, the first thing we have to do is show women that if they don’t believe an abortion is wrong, there is no reason to agonize over the decision to have one.
No regrets. No apologies. No concessions.
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