From today's Star Tribune:
"While young women may understand theoretically that an altered lineup of Supreme Court justices could easily overturn Roe, it's hard for them to imagine that a right they've had all their lives could vanish -- poof -- overnight just because a majority of justices declare it so," Glamour wrote.
Scott Fischbach, executive director of Minnesota Citizens Concerned for Life (MCCL), the state's largest group of abortion opponents, said a number of forces have converged to change public attitudes toward abortion and other reproductive issues, particularly among young women.
Fischbach said one factor may be the impact of 30 years of experience with legal abortion, including women coming forward to talk about regretting their decisions to have abortions.
I am one of those women who grew up totally within the years of legalized abortion. Being in my late 20's, I have never known a time when a woman could not have access to that service, and the back alley abortions and wire coat-hangers are the boogey-men of long gone feminist nightmares.
In college I marched for women's rights in a town so small that there was more campus security than local police officers. Faces became so familiar that I was asked to leave the only Catholic Church in the city, where I was attending services for a class, simply because they recognized me from my protests.
We were young, we were focused, we always spelled women with a y, and we continued with a zeal and sense of righteousness that was reserved only for the pampered upper middle class girls who could never truly grasp what we were supporting because we had never been without it.
My senior seminar was the study of autobiography, and the last book was Audre Lorde's biomytholgy "Zami: A New Spelling of My Name." Inside, I found my first and most graphic glimpse of the desperation of a pregnant woman pre-RvW:
Castor oil and a dozen bromo quinine pills didn't help.
Mustard baths gave me a rash and didn't help either.
Neither did jumping off a table in an empty classroom at Hunter...
I asked Ann to get me some ergotrate from the pharmacy, a drug which I had heard from nurse's talk could be used to encourage bleeding.
"Are you crazy?" she said in horror. "You can't mess around with that stuff, girl; it could kill you. It causes hemorrhaging. Let me see what I can find out for you."
In the end, Audre Lorde pays a nurse to perform a "homemade abortion" with a boiled Foley catheter.
The narrow, hard-rubber tube...softens when sterilized. When passed through the cervix into the uterus when soft, it coiled, all fifteen inches, neatly into the womb. Once hardened, its angular turns ruptured the bloody lining and began the uterine contractions that eventually expelled the implanted fetus, along with the membrane. If it wasn't expelled too soon. If it did not also puncture the uterus.
She said it was safe. The worst is over, and if anything goes wrong I can always go to the hospital. I'll tell them I didn't know her name, and I was blindfolded so I couldn't know where I was....I did not think about how I could die from the hemorrhage...
Scared, young, alone and afraid, she survived her ordeal. Many other women didn't.
Today, I blog for Choice not because I knew that time, but because I never want to.