Entreaty of a Second-Class Citizen
The impact of it didn’t hit me until the next day when I found myself on a train to Long Island.
It seemed that the train’s automated notification system wanted to notify its passengers of each upcoming stop at least three times before we pulled into each respective station. My noise-canceling headphones provided little aid in blocking out the annoyance, and with a menstrual cycle made worse by endometriosis, the nerves from my abdomen to my ankles burned. What had been a lack of emotion for the previous twenty-four hours turned into a building rage, first directed at the train’s intercom, then at my own body for failing to contain its pain, and finally, at the world.
I’m slow to anger. Irritation and frustration are daily occurrences; one would expect no less when living in a city of over eight million people. True anger, however, comes rarely for me. Anger that turns into rage is less frequent. Unfortunately, the culmination of internal and external circumstances led me to just that. Ten minutes out from our stop, my fiancé glancing concernedly in my direction every so often, I began to cry. A pair of sunglasses hid the event, although perhaps not in the most inconspicuous way. I had been texting our friend, waiting at the train station for us, about our ETA. I opened our chat again and messaged her.
“I’m having a rage attack that is turning into a panic attack,” I typed. “I need to go to the bathroom at the station for a minute to calm down.” She responded immediately with affirmation, and when the train came to a stop at our destination, I instructed my fiancé to go find our friend in the parking lot and that I would be there soon.
The walk to the ladies’ room was excruciating. It seemed that the travelers in front of me were walking more slowly than normal, and I found my jaw and fists were equally clenched, wanting to scream, or perhaps throw my hands into the air in anguish. As soon as the door was locked behind me and my Kate Spade bag safely hung on the door’s handle (like all women who have invested in designer accessories, maintaining the item’s integrity is always paramount), the sobs erupted from my chest up through my throat. I could no longer contain the emotion that my body had suppressed the day before. Any strength that remained in my body quickly left, and I crumpled to the floor, unable to bear my weight any longer. Usually, when I cry, my brain tries to think through the reasons I’m experiencing this emotion in an attempt to soothe itself. This time, there was only wordless pain.
When I finally got into my friend’s car fifteen minutes later, bloodshot eyes once again hidden behind sunglasses, we said hello and just hugged each other. There was nothing else we could say to each other in that moment.
I am, of course, speaking about the overturning of Roe v. Wade by the Supreme Court this past Friday, which no longer federally protects an individual’s right to undergo an abortion. Some will feel this pain of which I’ve spoken as their own; they understand the liminality of this event. Others will find this emotion an overreaction; they’ll argue that it only switches the debate to the state level, that conception begins at life, or the most horrifying one I’ve seen so far, that any woman that opens her legs will finally suffer the consequences of her actions. You might find it hard to believe when I tell you that I’ve seen the latter statement across social platforms, from men and women, across all ages.
While those who need to read this will either choose to not do so or will choose to ridicule my words and the words of others impacted by this event, I find it my duty as a woman and an ally to other women, and to the other groups who will inevitably soon face the stripping away of their rights, to write. My English degree does have some use, after all.
On the argument of state-based decisions.
It appears that some individuals believe that there is no need to worry about the overturning of Roe v. Wade, as it technically doesn’t make abortions illegal. These individuals seem to either not understand or not care that there are currently thirteen states with trigger laws that would automatically ban medically unnecessary abortions. The definition of medically unnecessary varies by state. Some states have gone so far as to consider any abortions that fall outside of that scope as a felony. Women, and children, could face upwards of ten years in prison. They could be fined up to $100,000 — both Arkansas and Oklahoma have included these punishments.
Allowing states to decide whether or not to prosecute someone who receives an abortion limits the overall freedoms of those individuals. Typically, the citizens calling for a more decentralized government do so in the name of increasing individual liberties. Anyone who can bear a child appears to be exempt from the right to these individual liberties.
On the argument that life begins at conception.
Our country is based on the premise that there is a fundamental separation of church and state. Any religious ideology has no place and should have no factor in the creation or dissolution of laws. To do otherwise would be going against the founding principles of our country. It would, in essence, be anti-American.
For those who would make the bold claim that science has proven that life begins at conception, it would behoove them to research this claim. Scientists are unable to agree on when life begins. Thus, this claim loses any possible foundation of truth.
On the argument that women should be less promiscuous, and that pregnancy is a consequence.
I am disgusted that some would choose to believe this oppressive thought. A woman’s sexuality is not to be determined by society. A child should never be considered a consequence, both for the mother’s sake and the child’s. Such a thought is how children are born to parents who resent their existence.
One might question how I could know this. My older sister was unplanned. Neither my mother nor my father wanted a child. I recall my mother telling me that she cried often to her mother, my grandmother, that she didn’t want the child. My grandmother told her that it was too late, and she had to go through with it. So she did. Four years later, I at least was planned for by my mother (the jury is out on whether my father knew). While both my sister and I were abused and neglected by our parents, she received far worse treatment from them than I ever experienced. She now struggles with drug addiction and alcohol abuse, and she has been in trouble with the law more than once. An unwanted child brings only pain, especially to the child.
On why women need free access to abortions.
The most prominent reason, outside of “it’s her body, it’s her choice,” is the fact of rape. One out of every six women has experienced attempted or completed rape in her life (RAINN). To experience a traumatic event only to be banned from birthing a child as a result of that trauma is sickening. As a survivor of rape by three men at separate times, the horror this possibility brings is near unbearable. I feel nauseous at the very thought.
To add to this argument is the fact that fifteen percent of girls aged 12–17 are survivors of rape. There are states that don’t include rape, even statutory rape, as a medically necessary reason to receive an abortion. We are thus expecting both women and girls to carry a child to term that they never wanted in the first place because of a circumstance that was completely out of their control.
There are still others who want to have a child. They have planned for it, and they’re ready to be mothers. Not all, however, will have the luck of carrying the fetus to term. Miscarriages, medical issues, and bodies that reject pregnancy are still commonplace in our world. What should be a time of excitement and joy is quickly turned into a time of horror and despair. While all thirteen trigger law states include the exception of medically necessary abortions, there is no definition of what each state considers to be medically necessary. The laws are inherently ambiguous, meaning some abortions that are necessary for the wellbeing of the mother or the fetus could be considered unlawful, as was the case for Brittney Poolow in 2021 after she experienced a miscarriage in Oklahoma. She was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to four years in prison.
I mentioned earlier that I have endometriosis. Multiple visits to four separate OB-GYNs have also confirmed that I have a misshapen uterus. Both of these mean that it will be more difficult for me to become pregnant than the average woman. Both also mean I’m at a higher risk of experiencing a miscarriage or a high-risk pregnancy. I would love to have children one day. I know I would make a good mother. The fear, however, of losing someone before they’re even a human is terrifying. The fear that should I live in a state where abortions aren’t protected and have this happen is even more terrifying. I cannot imagine the trauma and pain that comes with losing a child during pregnancy only to be called a murderer in the eyes of the state.
Outside of these horrifying possibilities, women on any sort of birth control are not fully protected from pregnancy. Birth control pills are roughly 91 percent effective; implants are 99 percent effective; condoms are 98 percent effective. While these instances may be rare, they are still a possibility for many. Making matters more complicated, not everyone has access to the more effective hormonal contraceptive methods like IUDs and implants. There are many areas in the states that are considered to be contraceptive deserts for their lack of accessible reproductive healthcare.
There is an individual I once knew who became pregnant in college despite being on the pill. With a deeply religious family and no insurance, she had few options. She walked through a snowstorm to the nearby Planned Parenthood and swallowed a pill. In her retelling of the event, it was clear that she was still in pain from the entire ordeal. She made it clear, however, that her choice to put her education first had been the right one for her. There is another individual whom I knew that became pregnant when they were suffering from alcohol use disorder. They chose to get an abortion. I’m glad that they did, and I believe they are, too.
I’ve argued with individuals who believe that abortion is fine up to a point — that laws need to be in place for women who “just decide they don’t want a child” during the third and final trimester. The likelihood of this occurring is incredibly low. I know of no woman who has ever had this thought. In addition, laws are often ambiguous; to codify a law that states “women can have abortions through the third trimester unless they decide that they just don’t want a kid” would be laughable. Even if it were to pass, there are still women living in authoritative states who would be accused of just not wanting a child. It would be a disservice to all women.
On what happens next.
Unfortunately, the overturning of Roe v. Wade is just the beginning of what’s to come. Clarence Thomas has already made it clear that he intends to fight against contraception, marriage equality, and homosexuality. Women are not the only individuals at risk right now in our country. As a woman who uses contraception not to prevent pregnancy but because, without it, my endometriosis reduces my ability to function, I’m dreading a possible future without access to much-needed medication. As a woman who is attracted to both men and women, I’m angered at the thought of losing my right to marry whomever I want. And as an ally and a friend to gay men, I’m terrified for their lives. This is, in the words of Abed from Community, the darkest timeline.
If this writing feels scattered, it is because I cannot help but feel scattered myself. Our rights to live and love are being stripped away. Many of us are still second-class citizens when compared to the straight, white men of this country. Now is the time to follow in the steps of Henry David Thoreau.
Protest. Speak up. Write. Vote. Commit civil disobedience. Educate. Fight. For the sake of the many, this I beg of you.
