I was 25, my legs spread eagle, feet in stirrups at my annual gynecological appointment. The doctor congratulated me. I was, by her estimation, about 11 weeks along. That's how I found out I was pregnant.
I can’t stop thinking about all the women who, due to their states’ laws and their economic situations, won’t be able to get to another state to terminate their pregnancies and will have their futures chosen for them. I think about all the women who may try to have an abortion on their own or get an illegal abortion, putting their health and lives at risk as a result. I think of women who will face violence from partners who will be less likely to leave without reproductive autonomy. (Studies show that homicide is the leading cause of death among pregnant women and between 6 to 22 percent of women seeking abortions report being in abusive relationships.)I think about the 10-year-old rape victim (Say that out loud: A 10-year-old rape victim) who recently made headlines after being ineligible for an abortion in her state of Ohio and was forced to travel to Indiana to get the care she needed. Had she not been able to get to another state, she would have been forced to carry her rapist’s fetus to term, all before even finishing elementary school.
The Supreme Court has made it clear with its decision to overturn Roe v. Wade, ignoring the consequences I listed above (along with many more), that this isn't really about protecting an unborn fetus; it's about controlling people — controlling women.
This isn't the first time I've written about my abortion, nor will it be the last time. I'll write about it until my fingers bleed, so as to constantly put a face to it. Abortion isn't a dirty word. Abortion is health care. Abortion is a human right. These are facts. Anyone who says otherwise, IMO, is wrong. Absolutely, positively, without a doubt, wrong.
