Called to rise

There’s a limb just over there. I can see it from where I’m sitting, and I’m fixing to take myself out on it. Before before I do, I want to mention why I’ve spent the better part of 59 years with my arms wrapped around the trunk. When winds of compassion and equity blow, I willingly lean in that direction. But, for the most part I hang out in the strength of the center. It’s not about minimizing risk, and it’s not about lack of opinion. As a sailor, a farmer, a homeschooler, a writer, a human living in a complicated world, I am no stranger to liability nor stringent points of view. It’s just that most of the time, I can appreciate both sides of a debate. It is especially rare for me to air in public my opinions on politically charged topics. When I do, it’s because the warrior inside has called me to rise.

It is from that footing that I am stepping out to express my outrage over the Supreme Court ruling on June 24, 2022 to overturn Roe v Wade, giving future abortion-rights decisions to individual states. One week after that historic decision, 13 states have banned or severely restricted abortion. Another 13 are poised to follow suit by re-enforcing pre-Roe bans some of which date back to the early part of the last century. Taking a stand for reproductive freedom is a risk I am not just willing to take but feel I must.

I am sad.

I’m sad not because I am a woman but because being a woman means my rights are not the same as those conveyed to men. I’m sad because I have daughters in the prime of life, and friends who, unlike me, are still capable of reproducing. I know they are going to bear the brunt of this burden. This Supreme Court action and the reaction by states across the nation will shackle women, low income women and women of color at disproportionately higher rates, to ideologies that are not their own. Their futures and the lives of the children they bear may also suffer. Among the arguments put forth in defense of the overturn was that abortion is not mentioned in the Constitution and therefore is undeserving of constitutional protection. What about schools? Political parties? Women? When I consider all that is not named in this founding document, it’s hard to imagine the claim holding a drop of water. Yet, here we are.

Cultivated for decades by a religiously motivated minority, the ruling not only implies that women are incapable of making sound decisions for their bodies, it also suggests that we are sexually promiscuous and reproductively irresponsible. Here’s a news flash: WE DON’T MAKE BABIES BY OURSELVES!  If the government (federal, state – pick your poison) is going to fetter women by forcing pregnancy, then it needs to simultaneously hobble men, whose role in procreation is conspicuously absent from this debate. As long we continue to have biological fathers shirking responsibility, bio-moms must be allowed to maintain their power to choose.

Sure, there are men raising kids on their own because the birth mother was a train wreck. There are men whose hearts broke when a pregnancy was terminated without their consent. There are rock-solid dudes - fathers and sons and brothers - standing in solidarity with women all across the world right now. But, with the exception of trans men, none of those fellows have spent a nanosecond pregnant. Not one has endured weeks of nausea, swollen feet, constipation, aching back or acid reflux, not to mention more life-endangering complications like ectopic pregnancies, eclampsia, and emboli. According to the Louisiana Department of Health, “approximately 15 to 20 of every 100 pregnant women require Caesarean delivery (C-section). One in 10 women may develop infection during or after delivery. About one in 20 pregnant women has blood pressure problems. One in 20 women suffer from excessive blood loss at delivery.” This week, Louisiana was one of the first states in the country to issue an abortion ban, using trigger laws designed to take effect as soon as federal constitutional protections fell. Pregnancy is no picnic. If by some stroke of gender-bending magic we could bestow upon men the duty of carrying a baby to term, I’m sure this controversy would be brought to a sudden conclusion. Instead, women’s bodies remain a battleground.

Despite the Puritan underpinnings of this nation, intentionally terminating a pregnancy was not fundamentally illegal nor even widely thought of as reprehensible until the latter half of the 1800s. At that time, under the leadership of Dr. Horatio Robinson Storer, physicians set out to gain credibility for their then ill-respected profession, and an anti-abortion crusade was their first brainchild. They formed the American Medical Association and launched a smear campaign to convert members of the medical community, painting doctors as morally superior social saviors. The women seeking abortions? Well, they were selfish, evil, and bent on corrupting other women to assuage their own guilt. The white, Black and Indigenous midwives who offered reproductive services? They were untrained, unhealthy, and ineffective. Together, the doctors systematically and successfully campaigned to criminalize abortion.

So, a group of men elevated their own standing by vilifying women. The messaging generated during that effort still runs through anti-abortion arguments today. White men know best, white, Catholic men in particular.

You would be premature in concluding that I endorse abortion. And, you’d be missing the point. Rather than being in favor of terminating pregnancies, I am against the government denying me or any other woman the right to do so. I object to the flagrant abuse of power. I resent the denial of bodily autonomy. I take exception to the breach of my First Amendment right to religious freedom and to the government’s apparent disregard of the establishment clause. And, for the love of all things sacred, including the miracle of reproduction, don’t try to convince me that this is about saving babies. If babies were of chief concern, we’d see pro-life advocates and their counterparts in the legislature laboring to push out public policy that supports robust prenatal care and parental leave, free daycare, expanded Medicaid, and increased minimum wage. There might even be dot connections between saving lives and more restrictive gun laws. That, not surprisingly, is not the case.

I am angry.

I’m angry about what happened on June 24, even though it was no real surprise. Anti-abortion rhetoric got its start before the Civil War, and while Roe v. Wade codified reproductive rights in 1973 it also further animated and unified those in opposition. We can’t even begin to appreciate the devastating repercussions of this decision. Still, I am even angrier about how the ruling strikes yet another blow to democracy at a time when the country is already so fractured.

Americans have trust issues, and why shouldn’t we? Our elections are contaminated by special interest funders and foreign meddling. Our electorate is poorly represented by those in office. Our leaders lack integrity and appear to consistently put their own ambitions ahead of the will of the people. How can we have faith in the future of our country when we can’t believe what’s happening today?

Powerlessness drives despair, and despair is suffocating. I need to breathe. I can waste oxygen raging about politics and the patriarchy, or I can seek avenues to replenish the air in the room. For me, that’s going to look like supporting reproductive justice networks. It’s going to involve spending time gaining a better understanding of who my representatives are, not just the parties they represent. I’m going to look for opportunities to advocate for open primaries and term limits. I’m going to vote. And, I’m going to use outlets available to me to foster conversations about reform.

A few afternoons ago, as I drove home from an out of town meeting, a fox crossed the road just a few feet in front of me. A day later, snipping mint to add to a collection of cut flowers, I spotted two young, green praying mantises. Foxes teach us about how to move in tricky situations and how to practice discernment. The message of the mantis is in its capacity to be still. It reminds us to take a step back, to calm ourselves internally, so that we are better able to act in certainty when it’s time to make a move.

I am sad and frustrated. I am angry and afraid. And, I am resolute. I am a woman living in the so-called land of the free, and I want to believe I can still make a difference. My grandmother, born in 1899, fought for women’s suffrage. My daughters are more politically engaged than I ever was at their age. People in my communities whose political allegiances are different from my own are coming together on this matter. They recognize injustice and are prepared to lean collectively toward change. Even if their faith in America is on wobbly ground, they still believe in the power of people joining forces to get things done.

This land is your land. But, this land is also mine. I’m prepared to do what I need to do, on behalf of people everywhere, to shape it into something that serves me and many others more equitably than today’s America.

~Elizabeth