Years later, my experience still causes me to feel guilty that I lived in a state where no one, other than those who were directly involved, questioned my decision. It makes me somehow embarrassed to admit that all I had to do was cross a street, while others have to bridge state lines, family boundaries (I still haven’t told my parents), and financial constraints (my boyfriend put the procedure on his credit card; I paid him back for half as soon as I had the money). Essentially, I’m sorry that I was more privileged than other women who are in similar circumstances.
This is my story, and mine alone, and the one I’ll carry with me forever. But the fact is, most women’s stories are more like mine than they are like the extreme scenarios that are bandied about when politicians — and even regular people — talk about abortion. So where does that leave women like me? Should we feel ashamed? Does anyone think about us, the people who have actually gone through with an abortion, and come to terms with it, and accepted that it was the right decision, for whatever reason, at that time?
Some of us don’t feel safe, mentally or physically, sharing our stories, because they are not the extreme. We are not the women who needed a medical procedure to save our lives, or whose bodies were violated by strangers or loved ones. Our decisions, therefore, seem less ethically justifiable in today’s society. Yet we chose what we did for our own reasons, which sound trite and selfish to many, but which speak volumes in our heads every time the debate comes up in conversation or the news. The law has been interpreted to protect us. We shouldn’t feel so alone.
Why am I anonymous?
The women in Jennifer Baumgardner’s book are so brave and confident. I’m not quite there yet. I do tell some people about my abortion, if it’s relevant to a conversation I’m having. But because of the stigma that still exists, I haven’t yet told my family and I’m not sure if or how I’m going to do so — and I know that I don’t want to “tell them” in a newspaper that thousands of people read each week. So why tell my story at all, especially to run alongside this other, about a book that encourages openness and attempts to challenge the very stigma to which I’m falling prey? Because I believe that any narrative, even a nameless one, helps take away some of the mystery and shame associated with abortion. Because I want to remind people how the public political debate can sometimes have very personal ramifications. And because I’m committed to fighting this battle, even if it’s from the sidelines.
