Choices and Choice

A few weeks ago I was asked to join the board of a national organization that advocates for a woman's right to choose. (The official announcement isn't for a few weeks so I won't mention exactly which group here.) I am extremely excited about this opportunity but I was shocked at the reaction from my friends about my decision to accept the invitation.

It wasn't my friends who are opposed to abortion for religious reasons who shocked me. They will pray for me and we will continue to not to talk about it the dinner table. I will respect their views, they will respect mine and we won't waste time or our friendship debating the issue.

It was actually women I respect, admire and consider my companions in the fight to ensure that abortions are safe, legal, and rare that surprised me. An abortion is, after all, a medical procedure. Doctors should be trained to provide them, women should understand the risks and consequences (emotionally and physically) of having one, and hopefully they are rare because women (and men) also understand their options.

This is what I believe. It is what a majority of my friends believe (though not an overwhelming majority). So I was surprised that their reactions ranged from cynical to worrisome to disturbing.

An older friend in her 60s said, "I didn't realize they were still around."  One of my peers (and a good friend) said, "wow, that's a tough one." A younger woman said, "I can't believe you still care about it."

Each of these statements are true and speak to the challenges facing those that work every day on this issue.

My older friend's comment speaks to the declining stature and relevance of the groups working in the area. Clearly, they have more work to do on letting people know what they are doing and how it is making a difference. My peers' words remind me of the tough battle ahead, especially in a political climate as charged with hate and partisanship as this one. Congress is truly divided on this issue and there are only twelve states, and the District of Columbia, that have pro-choice legislatures. The political fights will be hard - and I'm convinced we'll probably lose more than we'll win, in the short term.

What disturbed me most was the comments by my young friend. Sometimes I feel as though two whole generations of young women have given up the fight. Maybe it is because choice, like Title IX, is something they grew up with and have never had to worry about not having. I sometimes feel as though I am from that last generation of western women (particularly white women) that still faced overt gender discrimination growing up.

Quarterback Princess was a Lifetime movie when I was in high school; now there are whole female football teams. When I was applying to college, there were very few women's studies programs at colleges; now every college has one (and a class on the Simpsons, too). There was only one seat for a woman at the table when I started working; now the majority of decision makers I work with are women (young and old). I feel blessed and lucky for the way it is now, I only wish there was some understanding of what it took to get there.

I wish I knew how to talk with these young women to help them understand that any right that is "given" to you can actually be taken away.  That because the generations before us had to protect our rights in the courtroom and legislatures that these rights will always be at risk from changing political winds. But the sky-is-falling arguments don't work in today's world. We must find a new language to communicate the need for policies that ensure all women are valued and protected. There must be a way to make this our new reality.

I think I will simply start by explaining what I want. I want every woman and girl physically able to have a child to have all the information they need to make the most informed decision they can about their health. I want them to be safe and protected by society. Yet 87 percent of U.S. counties have no abortion provider - that means that teens, young girls and women must travel across state lines, stay in unfamiliar places and risk physical injury.

The picture is worse if you think about the 50 million abortions that take place in the developing world each year - more than 20 million are performed in unsafe, deadly, conditions. The risk of dying from an unsafe abortion in the developing world is 1 in 250, with many more resulting in severe complications.

For me, this is unconscionable. I can not stand by while girls and women around the world, and in my own country, die because they don't have access to trained doctors and sterile facilities close to their own homes.


That is why I care. Because I have to. Because these women matter. This is the choice I make.