I had a relative in town all week...

...and I just have some questions for my fellow abortioneers.

Is this how it usually goes down for you?


Sub-questions:

• Which one of you avoids bringing it up -- you or the relative(s)?
• Which one of you subtly changes the subject?
• Which one of you decides to end the conversation?
• Which one of you lets the other person have the last word, and/or decides to leave it at "agreeing to disagree"?

...Or do you just have an all-out fight?
...Or is everything hunky-dory with all your relatives? (Congratulations!)

These aren't rhetorical questions, I'm just curious about the whole spectrum of experiences (from people I know personally, it's already quite broad). So tell me how it is for you.

Telling Dad About My Abortion...Almost!

Sometimes it’s hard to come out as an abortioneer. We know that. And sometimes it can even be hard coming out to family. I never kept my abortioneering work a secret from my immediate family, but I still haven’t told my dad about my abortion. Okay, you’re probably wondering why I am worried about it or care about telling my parent. I mean, I don’t owe it to him or anything. I was in my 20’s when it happened. It’s not part of my job description as his daughter to let him know many years later, “Hey, dad, remember the time I dated that total asshole? You know, the one you hated? Yeah. Yeah. THAT one. Oh, no! Not THAT one, the OTHER one you hated. Well, errr, - uh – yeah, I had an abortion.” Shock and awe!

The thing is: I keep few secrets from my dad. We’re close. Despite this, he hasn’t ever been super supportive of my work or of abortion. He even calls the clinic “the gut and suck.” I’ve heard equally snide comments over of the years about women who have them, the procedure, you get the point; so, when we went to a poetry slam a couple weeks ago where Lauren Zuniga performed “To the Oklahoma Lawmakers,” I was nervous. (Seriously everyone, if you don’t know who she is, you need to.) I’ve mentioned her before to you all, but if you love her like I do, you can never tire of watching her. So, for some ear, eye, and heart candy, here you go.

Though I believe art can be a platform to share ideas and even transform beliefs – if not just challenge them – I was scared about my dad hearing this poem. I shifted in my seat, scratched my neck, and worried he would make another dismissive remark about abortion (which, of course, I take a little personally). Instead, during our drive home, he told me that “To the Oklahoma Lawmakers” was his favorite poem and performance; when pressed, he said it was because “everything she said was true.” I really couldn’t believe it. In fact, I said: “Who are you and what have you done with my dad?!” For the first time in over ten years of my work as an abortioneer, my dad and I spoke honestly and openly about abortion. For the first time in over ten years, I felt he finally got it. Finally understood the humanity behind abortion. Finally got ME. And for the first time in many years, I felt like I might actually be able to share with him that I had an abortion (without being judged) – not for me, really (not in the sense that I need to share my experience) – but so that he can further understand, put a face to, abortion and let loose of stereotypes. Judgment.

All I know is I am grateful for art. For poetry. For spoken word. I will never be able to stop being grateful to Lauren Zuniga. I feel I owe her. And I hope she reads this. Art can transform you. It can transform relationships. Miraculous? Yes. Proof? Dad doesn’t call the clinic “the gut and suck” anymore. And I think sometime soon, we’ll talk abortion again.

P.S. If you want to watch more of Lauren Zuniga, check her out here on YouTube.

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.

Outing Yourself to Your Kids: "I'm an Abortioneer!" First Yummy Mummy and Sassy Daddy's Guide to Abortioneering Series!

Dear Parents, Parents-to-be, People-who-hang-out-with-kids (you get the point),

Welcome to our first series in our Yummy Mummy and Sassy Daddy’s Guide to Abortioneering! To know more about this ongoing series (until you all get bored of it!), read more here. On this week’s agenda: how do you tell your kids what you do for a living?

I think this is one of the biggest things to tackle. We’ve blogged a lot about how it can be challenging to tell strangers/family members/potential romantic interests what our job is. There’s always that shock effect. We all know it: abortion work is controversial. How and when to tell our kids, then, is going to be a delicate matter, right?

(Before I start spouting off my own opinion, I want to reiterate that I’m not an expert in parenting except for the fact that I’m a parent. A flawless parent I am not.) I’m hoping that some of you will chime in with your own thoughts about this subject and that it will be interactive.

The first obvious step is to be as age-appropriate as possible while also considering your child’s character/maturity. This can be approached the same way you have your life-long sex/body discussions (we’re having those, right?). One of the coolest things about being an abortioneer parent – I think – is that our jobs, in a nutshell (ha!), are all about sex. We talk about sex every day, know the appropriate terms for body parts, etc. Hopefully, we can use this skill that we’re super trained/educated in and transfer it to open and honest discussions with our children.

Below is my little outline of age appropriate examples of what you can tell your kids when talking about your job and abortion. This is inspired by personal mommy experience, stories from other abortioneers, and the book “Talking to Your Kids About Sex: Turning ‘the talk’ Into a Conversation for Life,” by Dr. Laura Berman (love her – but not her angle on abortion in this book. Ugh):

• Age 2-3: “My job is to help girls.”

• Age 4-5: “I help girls and women.” (They might ask why. These kids like to ask why a lot.) If they do, you can say, “I like helping people. My job helps me do that. It’s kind to help others.” Or you can insert any other value you want to teach your child here.

• Age 5-8: Building on helping girls and women, you could say a little more specifically what you do. Examples could include: “I help the doctor at work,” “I pay the bills at work,” “I help girls find money to see the doctor,” “I help make appointments so girls can see the doctor,” etc.

• Age 8-9: Again, building on the previous stories, you may want to start adding that the girls/women you see have a problem and you try to help them solve their problems/support them. The statement can be that simple. Your child will probably ask what kind of problems the women are having. An example could be, “Some of the girls are having a hard time making a choice in their life and we help them with that.” You could also say that the women are pregnant and are having a problem. Depending on how inquisitive your child is, they may or may not press you. If they do ask for more information, you can continue to be vague, answering only their specific question(s), “Sometimes there can be problems when women are pregnant.” This could be a very good age to discuss some of the problems that can happen in pregnancy: sometimes there are fetal indications and you could simply state this. “There are times when there are problems with babies. It might not be safe for the woman to stay pregnant.” At this age, your child should know the basics of sex and how women get pregnant. You very well may have already discussed this before age eight. During this age group, you could've talked to your children about the values you want to instill (when people should have sex, have babies, get married, etc.). If you've already had talks about that, then this would be the perfect opportunity to discuss that people don't always make the same choices you think are best (and maybe why?). This helps set the stage for them to understand life isn't black and white.

• Age 10-11: Your child most likely knows about abortion. If not from you, from the media or friends. It’s important before this age to set the stage for abortion. It may be very hard for them to understand why anyone would not want to continue a pregnancy. Society and the media make it clear that women should always be happy when they’re pregnant. We know that is not always true; if you've had ongoing discussions with your kids that people make different choices in life and that there are consequences for those, they might be able to better understand why an abortion could take place. One approach is to simply tell your child this. You can bring up the fact that some women are raped and become pregnant: they did not ask to become pregnant. You can also talk about how pregnancy is something that can sometimes be controlled, and sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes women do not want be pregnant for many reasons. It’s probably easiest to discuss the obvious reasons why they wouldn’t want to be pregnant. I believe it’s important to call an abortion an abortion.

I think this is an appropriate age to tell your child that you help women obtain abortions. Validate any feelings your child has about this. Answer, as best as possible, their questions simply and honestly, while letting them know they can ask you questions at any time. You may feel your child is not ready for this at age; it depends on your child, how you communicate, and perhaps, even, how long you've been an abortioneer for. (If your child has been raised in an abortioneering family, then it would not be difficult to discuss it at this age, I think.) Be aware that at whatever age you do "out yourself" to your child, it's very normal they will worry about your safety at the clinic, especially if there has been media attention surrounding violence aimed at abortioneers. We can discuss this at another time.

• Age 11+: I think at this age, you'll want to continue your discussions about choices in life, about our bodies, about pregnancy, contraception and abortion. This ties into the whole theme that
"life is complicated" and that the reality is: shit happens. (You may not believe life is complicated.) My firm belief is that it’s vital to try to raise optimistic, but realistic children. Sometimes things are hard. We make mistakes. Or we can be victims. We have choices, but sometimes they only take us so far. This is life. Sugar coating it does not provide our children with the coping mechanisms to deal with disappointments and mistakes in the future. There’s a balance here and you’ll have to find this yourself. I realize I am talking about my own personal view here.

At this age, you will probably have your kids ask you more questions about sex and you may find that their friends feel they can come to you. This is a super great thing about being an abortioneer. Many abortioneer parents are those liberal parents that other kids can talk to, or ask where to find birth control, etc. Another series....?

This was longer than I expected. If you're still reading (thank you!), then feel free to comment. Let's talk about it. What works for you? What doesn't? What's been hard? What's been good?

If you want more info about talking to your kids about sex, check out Dr. Laura Berman here. Of course, as Abortioneers, we all have loads of resources and if you decide you want more, comment and we'll provide more. (Scarleteen is a great source.)

Making a statement

Sometimes, I consider whether I would love my job as much as I do if it weren't so controversial, if the mere act of going in to work weren't so badass, if the answer to "What do you do?" weren't guaranteed to make a statement. I can't pretend that loving my job isn't partially a political act. I adore advocating for women, fighting the evil forces of the anti-choicers, and the way I feel when a client expresses her appreciation, and those things wouldn't affect me quite the same way if not for how (inexplicably) volatile choice is.

Don't get it twisted; I'm not in any way thanking the antis for making me excited to go to work. Well, unless that angers them...in that case, I will admit that on a day when I didn't sleep enough and I'm walking through puddles and my hair is looking weird, seeing the protesters outside my clinic inspires me to work harder and longer and better.

But that's the dramatic side, the one that gives me activist cred at fundraisers and boosts my ego. The quieter side is the one that truly sustains me and sustains choice and providers and clinics. If I woke up tomorrow in my dream world of abortion on demand and coffee flowing from my faucet and kittens all over my apartment, I would still leave my cat- and caffeine-filled apartment and go and proudly facilitate abortions and choice and justice. Because it would be the same amazing clients, dedicated staff, and a very much needed service. I believe in choice because of what it is fundamentally, not because of what it's been made into politically. Even if abortion were treated as casually as our society treats a Pap smear, if it bored people at cocktail parties, I would still honor and revere it, and THAT is badass.

I'm quite disappointed at the lack of stock images of women of color. I tried.

Full disclosure?

As a rule, I don't keep my status as an abortioneer a secret. I mean, my identity as an Abortioneer blogger is a secret, but as someone in the abortion field, I am out and proud. I've never had an abortion so I can't talk freely about that to erase the stigma, but I sure can talk about my job as a way to show that people who are pro-choice (or super-duper pro-choice) aren't the devil incarnate. The only times I can recall not disclosing my line of work were when the person I was talking to was wearing an "It's a child, not a choice T-shirt" (in that case, I ran away) or when I was at a party and starving and wanted to focus on my chips and dip rather than talk about the job where I'd been all day. I mean, I have my limits.

So, I've introduced myself to a group by saying, "I'm [Desembarazarme], I like to run, I paint in my spare time, and I work at an abortion clinic." I've told the woman in line at the grocery store, "I work at [abortion clinic name]. What do you do?" It's seamless and matter-of-act because that's how it is for me.

But during one of my standard introductions recently, I had the thought that my attitude might not be serving everyone. It occurred to me that the woman sitting next to me at the dinner party might be pro-choice, but she might be processing her own recent abortion. The older woman in the vintage NOW shirt might seem to me like an ally, but she might be an ally because her friend died in a pre-Roe abortion, and no matter how gleefully pro-choice I am, she might not need that reminder of abortion right here, right now. And even though I can be fairly certain that the college-aged super-liberal guy who's a barista at my neighborhood coffee shop isn't pregnant, that doesn't mean that his girlfriend isn't and that he isn't faced with a tough decision himself, and he's just at work in order to escape it for a minute.

My realizations made me worry that my very presence and my willingness to talk, talk, talk about abortion might backfire. They might make the wrong people consider the wrong things when I'm not meeting them where they are. In my haste to say, "Look at what pro-choice can be!", I forget what else pro-choice can be. It can be sad and personal and delicate. And I never want to serve as a reminder of that. I want to be a resource and shoulder to cry on and an empowering friend, but I don't want to be the face of what people deal with in their own time.

And I don't have answers to this unique situation I'm in. I want to be who I am, but not at the expense of those who are trying to be who they are in a more gray area. I've looked at life from both sides now.

Say It Loud and Proud!

Recently I told someone very awesome the name of this blog and they proclaimed "eek!" It was a joke implying the name is not socially acceptable. The joke didn't bother me one bit. However, it made me think about the social stigma involved in my work and the name of this blog. I personally did not name the blog, but I was supportive in its origin. I think we named it "The Abortioneers" because there is no shame in who we are. There is no shame in abortion. Sometimes it happens, and it may or may not be ideal, but abortion just is. I have been in the habit of telling people exactly where I work these days. It's always a bit of a conversation-maker, ya know. Most recently I've gotten responses like...

"Oh my, I should have covered his (my child's) ears."

"Oh, what a shame."

"Awesome!"

"What do you do there?"

"So what do you think about health care reform?"

"You really aren't doing anything with your degree, are you?"

I have met a few people with varying levels of comfort with abortion, and this isn't everyone, only the ones that stuck out to me. One response includes a long explanation of why the person's mother, an OB/GYN, does not provide abortions. As the Xmas season comes around, I have to consider: will I continue to be myself? Will I tell people exactly where I work?

Each day I feel surer about my line of work. I recently went through a procedure from start to finish as a patient advocate. I am considering getting more involved in clinical aspects and enrolling in a pre-med or nursing program. However, I still feel apprehensive about telling people where I work. When I saw that anti-abortion "WANTED" posters were popping up again it only made me more apprehensive. I'm not ashamed, but I do fear other people's radicalism. It gets pretty serious for some folks.

I love the name of this blog and I intend to keep finding a balance when it comes to "outing" myself as an abortioneer. I wish we lived in a world that understood abortion is a simple medical procedure.

The upside of talking to strangers

just kidding

Hanging out with foreigners is a whole other Thing for me.

I don't mean foreigners exactly. What's a good word for "people who aren't from Abortionland"? I'm in a new place with lots of new people, so this is kind of on my mind lately (can you tell?).

Sometimes it makes me nervous. Obviously. I pretty much eatsleepbreathe abortion-related business, and those split-seconds of anxiety when someone thinks they're making innocuous smalltalk and asks So What Do You Do, they're an occupational hazard we've all come to know well.

Of course we've built little silos of experiential knowledge about ways to ease into it or leave it subtle (Women's Health, Reproductive Health, Family Planning), in case the person asking is not someone you want to get into it with. Other times you want to just say it, so you just say it, and hope that's OK. And once in a while you're feeling kinda wild and might even tell someone who never asked. But no matter what you say, that anxious split-second might pass and be forgotten, or it might drag out into interminable minutes, even hours if you're unlucky, of "debating" whether what you pour your heart into is evil and exploitative. (Whee!)

The reason I still bother is that sometimes it's totally fine -- is it sad that at this point "totally fine" can be kind of a thrill? -- and what's more, someone who doesn't eatsleepbreathe this stuff might say something I haven't heard or thought of before. As you know, I am a very clever and thoughtful and well-read and humble person, so you can imagine my surprise at learning something new, but it's true.

Longwinded Example Time: yesterday I was telling a new friend (who's training in public policy) about this unexpected hitch in what sounds like a great abortion policy. Where we are, first-trimester abortion is theoretically covered -- paid for! free! -- for residents who have public health insurance and go to a public health center for the procedure. It turns out, though, that to get the required preliminary ultrasound and bloodwork, patients often have to choose between waiting THREE TO FOUR WEEKS to have those processed at the hospital providing the abortion, or paying around a hundred dollars for a private office to do it within a few days. If you're poor and you are working within a short legal time frame, this could be disastrous. (Really. I've counseled so many women through the daunting challenge of finding a hundred dollars in a couple weeks, and as a result am aware of my enormous economic privilege every day.)

So, yeah, my constant and immediate thought about this situation is: even if you have great policy, you also need support and will all the way down the healthcare structure, so that the time-sensitive nature of abortion care is given importance and so that possibly-antis within the system don't cause unnecessary delays. Otherwise safe and timely abortion access continues to be segregated by economic class. Is anyone surprised? Same old story, sucks, now what?

When I paused my rant to take a breath, my friend said, "Sounds like the market organizing to meet demand that the health system hasn't caught up to." Oh yeah: that is another conclusion you could come to. And it isn't just about how or where ultrasounds get performed. It's also about how, where, and whether abortions themselves get performed. Having only worked at non-profits, I sometimes forget that the chance to make or lose money drives service availability -- it often feels like we're giving away care, which I'm proud of, but the wider world doesn't work that way. Assuming you have a public abortion system, if its workflow or providers are causing choke-points in service delivery, would-be patients aren't going to give up. Potential consequences:

• Feminist clinics [pdf] arise to provide women with care that isn't dependent on the patriarchal medical system (or on its judgments of what is urgent and what can be delayed). They are traditionally not-for-profit and its employees have a conflicted relationship with the need to, like, keep a roof over their heads. Seeking donations for sustenance is a whole other piece in this, Idunno, let's talk about that some other time.
• For-profit clinics arise to fill the supply void; some are great and perfectly feminist too, and some are mostly a business like most other medical practices and seek to maximize income.
• Private OB/GYNs and family practitioners begin providing abortions in-office after realizing that their regular patients keep seeking their advice, getting referrals to the hospital, then getting delayed.
• People who have little or no medical training begin offering under-the-table "pregnancy remedies" that range from safe and effective to useless or lethal. A client who survives is unlikely to report them because she knows they may be someone else's only recourse, too.
• Pharmacy workers will sell women misoprostol, an abortion-causing medication which is also prescribed as Cytotec to treat gastric ulcers, but at a significant markup because both parties know that the seller is doing an illegal favor and the buyer is desperate.
• What else?

ETA: look at this graph I found just this afternoon!

The Alan Guttmacher Institute (AGI), Sharing Responsibility: Women, Society and Abortion Worldwide, New York: AGI, 1999.

Anyway, I have been turning over in my head how my own experiences and training get me in a kind of thinking-rut, where certain conclusions and interpretations are super-obvious to me, and I lose any sense of how many other useful lenses there are out there. (Notice how I ended up wandering back to economic justice anyway?) So yeah, this is something for me to keep thinking about and try to be more open to. In conclusion, um, talking to strangers can be OK.

Sigh of the week: "With Liberty and Justice for Most" (In which I try to play well with others)

So I wanted to write you a little post all about Plan B and ellaOne. There is good news and bad news, about that. The good news is, I spent this weekend at a little surfing beach on the Pacific, complete with fishing boats and coconut at snacktime and very little internet access. The bad news is, there are no carefully-explained, well-researched blog posts to be had around these parts! Only chilled beers and split coconuts, it turns out.

So, sorry. You can read all about emergency contraception here soon, I promise. In the meantime, do check out NYCProchoiceMD's super post at abortion gang about mostly the same topic.

Today, a burning question: Am I the only one who's had bad experiences with libertarians?

You know, I get that libertarians supposedly value individual liberty above all else, even to a fault -- for example, to the point of denying responsibility for the suffering of many individuals due to collective oppression, or to the point of forgetting that the roads they drive on are paid for by taxes -- uhm, et cetera. But what's so interesting is that, given those values, some libertarians still (1) introduce themselves to me as "libertarian" [not normally of external prompting] and then (2) dare to tack on "...except for abortion."

Argh, fuck you, buddy!

This has happened to me multiple times, in inappropriate contexts -- like the noisiest bar I've ever been in, or a mutual friend's house party. Actually, I don't even think I've met libertarians who DON'T make exceptions to liberty when it comes to abortion. It's like, I'm minding my own business, maybe making small talk or waving down a bartender or trying to avoid secondhand smoke, and then some dude (it is always a dude!) decides that "I'm a libertarian" is a good conversation item, and then that "except for abortion" is totally consistent and sensible and not at all likely to provoke a negative reaction, and then what? Well, then I'm faced with the perpetual shitty choice:

A) Have a whole long conversation (they are always long!) about how no sense is being made, in which the dude will never attempt to understand the point of view of someone else (which shouldn't be a surprise because, hey, libertarian!), eventually leading me to despair of ever being able to meet a stranger normally like normal people do;
B) Let him say whatever he wants to so I can get through the situation with a minimum of time wasted;
C) Tell him I have a policy, ever since a few years ago, of generally not talking to "libertarians" and definitely not talking to "anti-choice libertarians," and try to gently leave.

After enduring too much heartache with strategy (A), I've moved on to (B) and (C). But recently I've acquired this temporary neighbor, who I know will be easier to get along with if I don't shut down on him. And he's perfectly nice most of the time, it's just: I'd be lying if I said I didn't cringe when he revealed a few weekends ago that he identifies as a libertarian, and I'd be lying if I said I haven't been avoiding the subject of abortion ever since because I don't even want to deal with the part where he might turn out to be anti-choice.

On the other hand, he's quite young and not from where I'm from and maybe it's not all his fault and potentially at this point I can/should afford to give him a break, or a chance to learn better, rather than avoid it entirely? But ugh, what a drag that is. Help, what do y'all think?

In exchange for your advice, here's a ridiculous picture I found:

(saw this in the Washington Independent)

PS: I recently told someone else I was an abortioneer -- after watching my first episode of "Sixteen and Pregnant" (very harrowing!), hah -- and he took it fine, we are even totally friends I think. Score one for notdouchebags!

Closeted

The post About a Girl wrote last week -- Coming Out: I'm an Abortioneer -- has had me thinking. The post spoke to me because I have gone through the process of coming out as gay, and I'm an abortioneer. Coming out as a lesbian was a process, and I remember years of silence before I felt comfortable being out in most social situations. I recently began working in a new clinic in a liberal town which nevertheless has a lot of people who do not understand homosexuality and thus fear it or judge it. For the first time in my adult life I am not out at my job. It's challenging some days. When I talk about my lover, which is rare, I change her pronoun because I don't want to out myself. I am slightly confused at my choice to live closeted at my job as an abortioneer; but I am not interested in dealing with others' judgment or debating a part of my life that is not debatable.

I am currently on a trip abroad attempting to learn another language. I have chosen a place where I feel completely comfortable coming out as gay. However, due to the political and religious climate, I have chosen not to out myself as an abortioneer. I have learned to tell people in another language that I work for a clinic that serves women who are pregnant. I tried to think of the closest thing to the truth without "outing" myself. It's challenging to compartmentalize myself like this, but I don't feel I have much choice.

Recently I encoutered a Christian woman who knows I'm gay but does not know about my work as an abortioneer. She told me that she had a responsibility to tell me gay people are going to hell. She compared it to having a cure for a disease and watching someone die. She proceeded to tell me it was really hard for her to keep her mouth shut because she felt like she was not being true to herself and her beliefs. All I could do was laugh inside. I told her that her belief system could not coexist with who I am, therefore I do not care what she thinks. I also told her I can relate to hiding an integral part of who I am.

I know many queer people who are also abortioneers. I often wonder what brings us to this work, when in some ways it could be assumed that it has little to do with our personal lives. Reproductive rights and LGBTQ rights are about freedom, control of your body, and choice. I don't think anyone would choose to live in a closet. It's usually out of necessity, painful necessity.

Coming Out: I'm An Abortioneer

I've been doing this work for many years, but I'm still not at the place where I "out" myself as an Abortioneer to everyone in my life, all the time. And I'll admit: sometimes I feel guilty about not doing so. Sometimes I analyze myself, trying to figure out why I don't tell everyone; why I don't add certain people from my past on my Facebook; why I block access to my profile to even others on Facebook; why I don't just openly answer the question, "where do you work?" when anyone asks.

I'm proud to do this work. At the same time, I'm very aware there are some extreme "pro-life" freakazoids out there that feel so strongly about abortion, that they'd quite happily make sure we're (all Abortioneers) wiped off the face of the planet. I happen to live in a conservative place and I just don't know what I'm going to encounter at any point in time when I "come out." Still, I mostly have positive experiences when I say where I work. (Positive = no jeering or creepy stares like "I'm gonna get you" or big abortion debate.)

Recently, I spent time with a friend whom I've known for nearly 20 years. It became evident that I pretty much had only told him about the family planning and STI services at our clinic. When I was complaining about our protesters, he was incredibly confused. Certainly, throughout the 20 years of our friendship, I must've - somewhere - somehow actually TOLD him we did abortions! I HAD NOT! I was a bit mortified. (With myself.) So I came out. "We do abortions," I said. Not too shell shocked, he just said, "I thought you took care of infections here." I said we did and that was true. Slightly desperate, I asked, "Haven't I told you before? I've really never told you? Straight out?" Blank stare, "Nope." This friend and I had grown up in the same church, the same religion. I was a bit worried it might be the end of the road in our friendship, to be honest. Instead, as he sat in my office and eyed a sample Nuva Ring, he was just like,"Um. What's THAT?" So I explained. Then he saw our pretty basket which holds our abortion instruments to show women when telling them about the procedure. "What are those?" I explained. And I became keenly aware that Abortioneers' office spaces are *not* typical office spaces! Next, a barrage of abortion questions: how far along can you go; what's legal in the US; how is it done; how often do you do them; are you doing them right now; how many a week do you do? I was shocked. He wasn't mad. I think he's still my friend.

I know I just need to get over myself and be more open, generally, about my work, despite living in a conservative community. Or maybe I don't. I'm still not sure. I suspect I'm not the only person out there that sometimes experiences trepidation when outting themselves as an Abortioneer. Maybe you can share some of your thoughts, stories?

The Hills Are Alive With The Sound of My Heart Palpitations

So, I recently got a boyfriend. Squee!

My boyfriend, like most boyfriends, has a mom. Unlike most moms, she used to be a nun. I mean straight up walking-around-in-a-habit nun. Unsurprisingly, she is very pro-life. Very. Pro-life. Anti-Choice as I like to call 'em.

I am slated to meet this lady next weekend. Yes. Awkward. So so awkward. I have already played out how this will go 10,000 times in my head.

Scenario 1:
Boyfriend: Mom, this is Mr. Banana Grabber.
Mr. Banana Grabber: Hi! It's really nice to meet you!
Nun Mom: So, where do you work, Mr. Banana Grabber?
Mr. Banana Grabber: Um... I work at a non-profit that focuses on women's issues.
Nun Mom: Oh?? What's the name of it?
Mr. Banana Grabber: Um...
Nun Mom: *silent judgement*

Scenario 2:
Boyfriend: Mom, this is Mr. Banana Grabber.
Mr. Banana Grabber: Hi! It's really nice to meet you!
Nun Mom: So, where do you work, Mr. Banana Grabber?
Mr. Banana Grabber: Um... I help low-income women get abortions.

Nun Mom:


















Scenario 3:
Boyfriend: Mom, this is Mr. Banana Grabber.
Mr. Banana Grabber: Hi! It's really nice to meet you!
Nun Mom: So, where do you work, Mr. Banana Grabber?
Mr. Banana Grabber: Um... I'm a cashier.
Nun Mom: *silent judgement*

So I am pretty stressed about this. I mean, I refuse to lie about my job or make something up. That isn't an option. It's strange though because I am definitely feeling the need to play the whole thing down. But the fact I am even considering doing that makes me feel all sorts of weird. Am I a bad Abortioneer for wanting to do that? I am not sure how to best handle it. What do you guys think?