Friends of Abortioneers

Today I outted myself as an abortioneer to one of my friends. I’ve given hints that I do abortion work; I told her I worked at a clinic “like Planned Parenthood” and once let it slip that there were creepy protesters that annoyed me. (Oh, and there’s that time I asked her to discreetly find out that if some of the guests at a recent dinner party were super conservative and conservative enough to protest.) We managed to have lunch together this afternoon and I mentioned something about stress at work…blahblahblah. She asked why I didn’t talk about it and I got squirmy, told her I was uncomfortable, that I wasn’t sure if she knew “what I did,” and didn’t want to upset her. She started to laugh and said, “Um, I’m not a rocket scientist, but I’m no dummy either. I pretty much put the pieces together that you work at an abortion clinic.” Fairly painless other than the fact I felt a bit idiotic.

I adore this friend. Our kids play together. Maybe that’s why I was worried about how she’d react. I supposed I feared I’d lose a friend: I mean, I know abortioneers who’ve been dumped by friends for their work at the clinic. It could’ve happened to me, too. Thankfully, it didn’t…

Lesson learned, though. Maybe I shouldn’t always be so slow to talk about myself. To open up. To share about my real life. It only adds to the isolation that we sometimes can feel from being an abortioneer.

Ever been grudgingly told your work is "better than the alternative"? (You might be an abortioneer if...)

So here's another twist on "coming out" to someone as an abortioneer. I have an old school friend, you know the type: we really don't have much in common these days but when we go home for the holidays we give each other a call. I was just remembering the time I told her about my new job after college...

I told my friend I was doing [vaguely hard-to-explain job] at a non-profit reproductive health clinic. In response she asked if they did abortions there, and was our mutual, very-Catholic friend going to have to put me on her "prayer list" -- jokey jokey, of course, except not really I guess.

When I told her yes, she replied, "Well, but you just work in the office, you're not doing the abortions" -- with an unspoken implication of "...so I guess you're not doing evil," as though the reason I could be at peace with myself is that I wasn't the person holding the cannula or flipping the aspirator switch or what have you, and so I somehow was not implicated in the whole abortion thing.

I suppose I could have just agreed with her and dropped the subject, but that would've made no sense whatsoever. Like, her claim-and-implication were the opposite of fact on both counts. Because in my eyes, even back then when I had not been a clinical assistant, I was implicated in the whole abortion thing, and that felt like doing good. Like, I would never take a job as office staff for (say) Operation Rescue, and if I did I would never rationalize to myself that I wasn't contributing to the mission of the organization.

So I said something in that vein to my friend. "Well, actually I DO feel like I'm helping women who are seeking abortion care obtain abortion care, and I think it's really worthwhile." Then she changed tack and said, "Well, we know that people will try to get abortions whether they're legal or not, so this is better than the alternative." Which is true, of course, but. Like, if outlawing them DID prevent people from trying to obtain them, she'd have no problem with a ban? That's a damn shame.

I know, I should be grateful for small mercies. For example, as it is, many people are not even swayed by stories of women being taken to emergency rooms with their intestines spilling out of their vaginas, and so forth -- so I should be glad she does take that seriously. And I am.

But here's why it's a shame: To many people, it's not enough for women to simply have their lives changed or ruined in less physically gory ways, such as "I had to drop out of high school" or "I couldn't travel the world" or "My partner skipped out on me." All these life-changes that people don't think are bad-enough results of unwanted pregnancy, they're all things that are often called "selfish" reasons for wanting abortion. Oh yes. Women are called selfish all the damn time. Like as soon as you have baby-incubating capacity all your needs and desires and passions properly become baby-focused and anything less would be thinking too much of yourself! Selfish!

So all those things are selfish reasons for deciding to end a pregnancy, but if you, like, DIE, or have your organs fall out of you, then that is more like what we could consider acceptable needs in a person of babymaking capability. Sure, I'm glad that among people who feel uncomfortable about abortion, there are some who at least recognize how terrible a ban on it would be for half the population's physical safety; but I'm simultaneously dismayed to think that, if only they could "safely" ban abortion, such people would be fine with all the other kinds of damage caused to our wellbeing and freedom.

Dear Beatrix (as inspired by Kill Bill)

Back-story: The following letter is written to a real friend of mine who I met in Atlanta three years ago. In 2008, I received a phone call that a woman was en route from five states away and was desperate to find anyone to be her “driver”, aka she needed someone to pick her up from and take her back to the clinic for her 2-day abortion procedure. This was the last week that she could legally obtain an abortion. Little did I know when I agreed to this that she would help me as much as I helped her, and we would form a unique relationship that endures today.

Dear Beatrix*,

I just finished reading Linda Lovelace’s autobiography, “Ordeal”. Linda was the star of the infamous Deep Throat, which was considered scandalous for its time and featured the plotline of a woman who had a clitoris in her throat so giving head provided her with immense pleasure (as if, ugh). I have never actually watched Deep Throat, and after reading Linda’s autobiography I certainly never will. Linda details how she was forced to do the film by her abusive husband and raped repeatedly during the filming and forced to “service” many of the people involved with the production. Linda spent four years with this husband who essentially kidnapped her and forced her to be prostituted for his benefit (financial and psychological). She details in her book many examples of verbal, mental, physical, and financial abuse she suffered while trapped with this man. Abuse is the only way to describe what happened to her while with his man. Nothing else.

When I think about women I know in abusive relationships so many people come to mind. Some have varying degrees that they endure and it is often really hard for me as an outsider to make a judgment or to know exactly how bad things are. With physical abuse there are bruises and cuts and burns and attempts to cover up with makeup and scarves. With verbal and emotional abuse it can be so hidden yet so intensely damaging. I think about you and I think about me, because with both of us, at the point in our lives when we met, we both so desperately needed to leave people who were emotionally and verbally abusive. I still struggle to type the words, and even still doubt them. I have no physical scars or markers, only my memory and my confidence in how I experienced things.

I don’t remember when you started to open up to me about your abusive boyfriend, the person who you had gotten pregnant with. Was it at the clinic the first afternoon we met? Was it that night as we shared dinner over two steaming bowls of Pho? Was it months later over email, where you shared with me your emotions around your abortion? In the many emails we exchanged after we met, the topic of your abusive boyfriend came up. You knew that as long as you were with him you should not and could not bring a child into the situation. You knew that you needed to leave him before you could be the best mother you wanted to be. You knew that you had to prioritize yourself and grow strong enough to leave him before you could add a child to the mix. Having a child would have tied you to him forever. So you had the abortion, and he made you feel bad about it, which was just more evidence of his manipulation and emotional abuse.

I never equated my situation with yours. I was never faced with the added pressure of an unplanned pregnancy that would complicate my messed up and unhealthy relationship. Yet, the words you spoke about how he treated you felt like my own. I did not tell many people about the depths of what I was going through, just like you did not tell anyone about your own abuse and about the abortion. I was in major denial, and was living in a fantasy world where I hoped things would change. However, every time I heard from you and found myself giving you advice, I knew I had to stop being hypocritical and heed my own words.

Three years later and where are the two of us? I moved away from the city where memories of the emotional scars still haunt me. You left him and are making your way on your own. It is hard to tell over email how someone is really doing, but I trust your words. We reunited this summer when I traveled to your city and, while it was only the 2nd time we were together, I saw a light shining in you that was clearly absent that weekend back in Atlanta. I have seen so much strength in you over the years, first with the decision to have the abortion and then to leave him and finally to make solid steps to move on with your life. It took me living in a new place to truly rid myself of the damage I incurred. I think we both have grown immensely in these years and know what we deserve for the future. And if I ever forget you better remind me.

So to you I say thanks, and I’m always here for you.

Love, Vegan Vagina**

*not her real name
**not my real name

Friends Of The Abortioneers: a gripe

Not long ago, my BFF told me that "on second thought, [I] probably shouldn't meet" one of his new friends because she had briefly expressed anti-abortion sentiments (something like "Well not that I support abortion") the last time they hung out. I asked my friend if he had said anything to respond to her...like, oh, say, "Well, I do support abortion rights, so you don't have to make any disclaimers around me." Or that his best friend provides abortion care and is a perfectly okay person. I don't know.

He said no, he hadn't said anything, and I realized I was hurt. He's known me for years, knows how important abortion is; why isn't that worth rocking the boat with someone he's just met? And why wouldn't you want to state your position early on -- what if this new friend simply assumes that's an OK thing to say to him, or to say in general? I even wondered if she's said it in front of women who, unbeknownst to her, have had abortions and now might never feel comfortable mentioning it.

I felt hurt even though I don't know this woman and don't particularly need to. I feel hurt when my mom lets her psycho friend be vocally anti-abortion in her presence, or when my dad seemed visibly relieved that I was going back to school and he could tell the relatives we were visiting that his daughter "works in public health." It's not outright rejection, but their silence isn't just about abortion as an abstract concept; it's like they're avoiding sticking up for me. And it bothers me even though I don't always stick up for myself.

Am I ashamed? Don't I want to educate people? Why wouldn't I always stick up for myself?

No; No; and, Because. No, I'm not ashamed. Okay, Yes I do want people to "be educated" about abortion, but No I don't want to do it in my local pharmacy or the video store I rent from every weekend. And maybe -- sometimes -- I don't want to be the one to do it. Maybe it would be nice if other people did some educating. People who could say "Someone I'm close to works in an abortion clinic, and from what I can tell it's an important part of healthcare that we shouldn't stigmatize or demonize." People who are far enough away from actually doing the work that, if they said this, it might make someone uncomfortable, but not make someone violent. People who are far enough away from the work that a bad reaction might make them disappointed, but not break their soul yet again.

~

If I were someone else, I might have been offended that my BFF thought I was too narrow-minded to hang out with someone who opposes abortion -- and I recognize that some people reading this might feel that way too. But I know that he was looking out for me, because I am that narrow-minded; or, less facetiously, because over the years I've decided that my time is better spent with people who can get their head around the fact that I find my work meaningful and valuable, and not wasted on those who need to be gently led back to Square One at potentially great personal risk.

I make exceptions for my grandparents, my middle-school teachers, my parents' close friends; I'll be social with them and skirt the subject. (Although I sense that if I have to see my mom's psycho friend again I'm going to snap.) I also make exceptions by not bringing it up with people I meet at parties, bars, or other noisy places where I am trying to have fun, not an upsetting high-decibel "debate," and don't plan to know you in the long-term. Or if a stranger on the bus wants to chat -- do you know that someone I know was followed on her commute home by an anti? After some instructive mishaps, I now make exceptions when meeting friends of friends, too. I don't like making a friend's evening awkward just because I responded to "So what do you do?" and their other friend couldn't pass up the chance to be rude.

On the face of it, maybe it doesn't sound fair for me to give myself all these passes but hold my family and friends accountable for their silences. But I don't care, actually. They could be my allies: their expenditure and risk in speaking up would be so low compared to mine. They ought to.

When Pro-Choice gets Personal

I recently visited my hometown and stopped by an old friend's home. She was excited to see me, and for me to meet her new niece. This particular friend has at least one older sister who already has children, so I figured it was one of her daughters. I came in the house, scooped up a precious little lady in pink polka dots (after my own heart!) and giggled and squeed. My friend's younger sister, who is several years younger than I am, introduced me to her boyfriend, from whose grasp I had blindly stolen the baby. I looked back and forth at the two of them and realized: the baby was hers!

Nobody had explicitly mentioned that the baby belonged to the youngest of the brood. I guess I had just assumed that she was too young to have children. I managed a "Congratulations!", though my mind was racing and I was in shock. But to look at the little family huddled up in the living room - Mom, Dad, Auntie - you could surmise that this was a perfectly healthy and happy bunch. As for the baby, she was really something. I couldn't keep my hands off her. What a doll! I played with her, sang to her, watched as Dad, still in his work uniform, changed her diaper and scolded Mom for swinging her too hard ("She could fly right into the wall!"). It was wonderful.

Since becoming an Abortioneer, I've become even more pro-choice than I'd ever thought possible. Because I not only celebrate the right to choose abortion, but also the right to bear children. I had always considered unwed motherhood something distant, completely outside of my scope of being. My middle-class, pill-popping environment had made it so. And for a split second, when I realized that this young woman was a mother, I felt as though something had gone wrong. I wanted to say "You could have called me! I would have known what to do!" But that thought was gone sooner than it came. My friend, and anyone who friends me on Facebook, knows where I stand on the issue, and is aware that I have information and "connections". This was a smart woman. If she had wanted help I'm sure she could have found it. But she was a mommy, and she had a daddy and a big warm family there for her. And her little Christmas miracle made them all smile and laugh, and why would I spoil that? My services, so to speak, were not needed here. All the wanted from me was to enjoy the opportunity to kiss a cheek, tickle a belly, and celebrate a special little person with old friends. And I'm so glad I did.

HOWEVER! To all the women out there with different situations, or the same situation but different feelings, you can still call on The Abortioneers. We'll support you through it all.