This series is dedicated to capturing the reality of what patients go through to access safe abortion care all across the United States. But I am not surprised. I grew up in Louisiana. In spite of β or perhaps because of β being raised by a fiercely independent Catholic mother and taught by nuns from kindergarten through high school, I was always pro-choice.
In , when I was a senior at LSU, a state congressman, Woody Jenkins, was trying to pass the same kinds of restrictions on women that are being passed about now: no abortions, period, even in cases of rape or incest. When that legislation was vetoed by then-Governor Buddy Roemer, another Congressman tried to convert an anti-flag burning bill into a new anti-abortion bill. Remember the uproar over flag-burning? That was a neat distraction from the more serious political events of the day. I felt the same way then as I do now: threatened.
Some pro-choice friends and I started a group called Students for Reproductive Freedom. We organized. But it felt good to know we were not standing by, saying nothing. Or doing nothing. Escorts were to accompany the patients from the parking lot to the clinic, guiding them through an obstacle course of savvy protesters who knew every square inch of land they could legally stand on. Escorts were given civil disobedience training, where we learned that we could not touch the protesters with our hands because they could then charge us with assault.
Protesters began pelting the car with tiny pink plastic babies, waving giant photographs of fetuses in garbage cans. I saw protesters push their baby strollers in front of incoming cars. What struck me about the patients is how diverse they were in age, race, and socioeconomic status. Some of them walked silently with us, others laughed nervously, a few cried, many were appalled. All were resolute in the face of screaming adversity. Because these women knew what was best for themselves, they had made their decisions.
They were, to a one, strong and in control of their lives. Maybe not of their surroundings at that moment, but of themselves. I learned a great deal about grace under fire from these women. One Saturday, just before that anti-flag-burning bill turned anti-abortion bill was about to come up for a final vote, protesters from all over the country turned out en masse and formed a human chain around the clinic. Escorts and patients were crushed as we squeezed through the mob.
