It’s been 6 days since we lost Roe v. Wade.
I'm searching for the silver bullet to change people’s minds while knowing there are no silver bullets.
Observations.
I was 18 when I went to an anti-abortion protest for the first time. A friend from the church I worked and moved and breathed at organized a paltry demonstration, stationed on the grass lawn abutting the parking lot of a nondescript office building. Apparently, this collection of brown offices housed the famed planned parenthood. Before that day, I had no idea it was there. The area didn’t seem especially evil, I couldn’t feel a change in the atmosphere signaling the presence of demonic principalities and a war raging between good and evil. It was suburban landscape I usually passed by.
Once all five or so of us had gathered, my friend passed around the tools of protest. We carried no signs, no bullhorns, no photos of fetuses for passerby to gawk at. Only a roll of red duct tape and a sharpie. We wrote LIFE in slashed black letters across the tape’s weave. Tearing off strips, we pressed the red LIFE signs against our lips. Once our mouths were bound, we prayed fervently, urgently for the end of abortion in the US. Or at least, that activity was assumed. We couldn’t actually talk or hear each other.
My friend hadn’t come up with this form of protest on her own. We were all under the influence of the Bound4life movement, a product of Lou Engle’s teachings. It was “prayer not protest” and I’d put tape over my mouth before when I attended The Call in 2007, another Lou Engle project. That time, it was an entire stadium filled with Christians praying fervently and soundlessly together, save for some spiritual moans and grunts. The sound of the band filled the air and the sense of being a united, powerful force in changing the world was palpable. Sitting in the grass with my friend and a few others did not feel like that experience. It felt awkward to be doing this ritual out in the world where passerby would look briefly at our motley group, frown, and then move on with their day.
I never returned to continue the protest after those few hours that Saturday. When prompted, I prayed fervently with others for the end of abortion. At 23, I accidentally stumbled into an anti-abortion march in San Francisco. I didn’t join, as my experience of the mass of people and strollers was a blockade that kept me from getting to my AT&T appointment, not a movement I wanted to step into. Afterwards, I mentioned the procession to a fellow believer and she said, “Wow, that’s amazing. I didn’t even see anything on the news, of course the media didn’t cover it!” I didn’t respond because I didn’t know how to tell her I didn’t think it was worth covering, I wasn’t sure what the point of the march was. I didn’t know how I felt about the kids holding up signs they didn’t understand. I did know that I’d never forget one queer person, standing on the sidewalk holding up the finger with tears in their eyes. I wondered if the march demonstrated a kind of love I wanted to be a part of.
These few moments were the furthest form of protest I got into as a Christian, I never bombed a clinic, harassed staff, or ran a car into pro-choice protestors. But even if my actions were less harmful comparably, the movement is one I’m ashamed I was a part of. Although I do wish more of today’s protesting Christians followed Lou Engle’s method and just put tape over their mouths when it comes to abortion!
I know now that people I knew at the church then had abortions, but they didn’t bother telling me about them while I was there. Why would they? I’d be too focused on saving them from their sin and devastated over the supposed murder of an unborn child. I regret I wasn’t able to hear them then. Today, there are people dear to me who wouldn’t be in my life if they had not had access to an abortion. I shudder to think of my life without them in it. I find myself fighting for real people standing in front of me, not the fictional narratives of the unborn.
My current stance as vocally pro-choice seems like a dramatic turnaround from that girl sitting on the lawn with her mouth taped shut. At times, it feels as if I am searching my past for a key, an ingredient, a single factor prompting my switch from anti-abortion to pro-choice. But for most things in life, there are no silver bullets. I know this fact. I remind myself in every circumstance yet still sift for evidence of silver bullets in my own life.
It was a collection of small moments no one else could see, I think. Maybe it was because my stance as anti-abortion always felt like obligation over inspiration. Maybe it was because I started unraveling my faith and upbringing against the reality of the world and found the logic lacking. Maybe it was because I started learning about choice, consent, and autonomy over my own body, and realized I didn’t want to control anyone else’s body, just mine. Maybe it was because I learned the history of men and the state and white supremacy exerting control over women’s bodies and I wanted no part in keeping those systems in place. Maybe it was because I listened to the perspectives of adoptees and knew adoption wasn't the solution Christians purported it to be. Maybe it was because I experienced the healthcare system in the US and knew too many women who could have died giving birth, and I wanted them to have the choice to live. Maybe it was because I started working in HR and saw just how hard we’ve had to fight for the absolute least when it comes to Paid Family Leave and mandated time-off to recover from birth, and how precarious support is for parents in the workplace. Maybe it was because I finally became a safe person for people to talk about their abortions with, and I witnessed the lives they were able to have because of an abortion. Maybe it was because all those things added up over time, nudging me towards becoming pro-choice.
There are folks reading this email who are still against abortion, who knew me at a different point in my life, who probably clicked away by this point but maybe you’re still here! I’m not sure there’s anything I could say or do to change your mind on this issue and I’m not sure I’m trying to make that change with this newsletter. I do want to share a truth I clung to at the beginning of my own journey in thinking critically about the beliefs of my youth; it’s an underlying concept that shifted my perspective over time.
You don’t have to save the world. The world actually doesn’t need you to save it. It needs you to be present in it, accepting it for what it is instead of telling it how it should be. The people in your life need you to be with them as they are, not as they should be once they accept Jesus Christ and your worldview. Christians have done a lot of harm in their quest to save the world and the people in it. I invite you to try not being responsible for anyone but yourself and see what happens.
I want to acknowledge the difficulty of this time for all of us who were grateful for the protection of Roe v. Wade. Many of us with Christian fundamentalist upbringings worked incredibly hard to leave our religion of origin, to find freedom and hope out in the world we were cautioned from. Personally, it feels like the rules of my childhood are being instituted by the government and I feel devastated. I feel like an angry teenager alongside an angry adult. Stay angry, friends. I’m not sure how we get through this time but we do. Somehow.
Recommendations.
Read Daughter of the Moon Goddess for a scrumptious adventure. Text or email that friend you’ve been meaning to reach out to, be the person who makes plans happen even if scheduling is a PITA. Optimize your calendar notification tools and settings so you don’t miss important interviews! Buy yourself the flowers. Keep an assortment of salamis, cheeses, pickled veggies, sardines, fruits, and crackers or preferably sourdough bread on hand and make a spur of the moment charcuterie board when it’s too hot to touch your stove. Take a walk, Summer mental health walks hit different. Pride month is coming to a close but you can still fill out your Gender Unicorn worksheet and start figuring out your own relationship with gender identity, gender expression, and physical and emotional attractions. Watch Fire Island if you’re like me and cannot resist a Pride & Prejudice tale. Listen to this interview with Joel Kim Booster, the writer and star of Fire Island, where he talks about his experience as a transracial adoptee, raised by white evangelical parents who homeschooled their kids.
Invitation.
There are a few brilliant writers whose words helped sustain me over the past week and I want to invite you to learn from them too.
Lyz Lenz, Abortion in America — the road to rolling back Roe vs Wade
“So, how did I, the indoctrinated daughter of the American conservative right, grow up to champion the very cause I had been told was evil? Simple: I lived life as an American woman.”
Tressie McMillan Cottom, Citizens No more
“With Roe v. Wade toppled, we do not have the same rights in all labor markets… an empowered worker is one who can migrate. With Dobbs, women cannot assume that we can safely work in Idaho the same way that we can in Oregon or Washington. I cannot negotiate wages or time off with an employer with the same risk profile as those who cannot become pregnant. An employer who offers lower pay in a state with abortion care indirectly benefits from women’s inability to take our labor on the open market across the nation. Thanks to a rogue court, women’s lives are now more determined by the accidents of our birth than they were a week ago.”
Meg Conley, I exist because my grandma had an abortion
“The [leaked Supreme Court] opinion claims that rights have to be ‘deeply rooted in history’ to be considered constitutional. Of course, vanishingly few rights are ‘deeply rooted in history.’ If Roe v Wade is overturned, so much more is in danger. Marriage rights, contraception rights, and civil rights are all at risk.”
Nicole Chung, When You Can’t Find the Words
“... it can be difficult to focus on or care about writing and sharing stories as we reel from outrage after outrage, and of course there is always more to do: We need to ask ourselves who in our communities is most vulnerable and in need of support, who is already doing necessary work to reduce harm, and how we can offer aid to these people and networks.”