Vol 1, Ed. 3: Annals of Outrage
On the tragedy of the current moment post-Dobbs.
THIS EDITION WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT BASEBALL, and about how beautiful of a sport it is by its very nature. It’s a lively piece, an in medias res chronicle of Tuesday's matchup between the Boston Red Sox and the Detroit Tigers. In it, I talk about how baseball is a uniting force, especially in Boston, and how Fenway is a magical place. It’s uncharacteristically ‘apolitical,’ a feel-good piece that was fun to write. To publish it now would feel like a bit of an affront to decency.
From DOBBS, STATE HEALTH OFFICER OF THE MISSISSIPPI DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH, ET AL. v. JACKSON WOMEN’S HEALTH ORGANIZATION ET AL.:
Held: The Constitution does not confer a right to abortion; Roe and Casey are overruled.
I was smoking a cigarette when the notification popped up on my phone. I stood there for a minute, went inside, went back outside, and lit another one, then another one, then another one, and then another one.
In many ways, I have little to lose because of this. Pale, male, private school, good paying job. It’s guys not that much different than I who got us here. I exist at the top of the sociopolitical hierarchy — not the very top, but close to it. The fact that I, shall we say, engage in activities deemed legal by Lawrence v. Texas is but an afterthought because of my paleness and my maleness. No one cares as much about who you’re attracted to when you’re pale and male. By and large, they don’t care what you say, how you act, or what kind of harm you can cause on days like today.
The people who create the mess are never the ones that have to deal with it. If Kavanaugh’s daughters wants an abortion, they’ll get one. Trump has likely paid for an untold number of them. All six of those people who today chose to strip Americans of yet another right — Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, Roberts, Thomas, Alito, and Barrett — are likely on their way to their second homes to read a book and have a cocktail. They’ll go back to work on Monday, and every day thereafter until they begin to decompose or retire with a comprehensive benefits package. Consequences are for those who are decidedly not at the top of the American food chain. Consequences are for those who are under the boot — not those who wear it.
Not all consequences are equally meted out. Dobbs will not hurt people in Newton, Mass. the same way it will in Newton, Ala., Pop. 1,607, 15+% of whom are Black, all of whom could soon live hundreds of miles from the nearest abortion clinic. It will not hurt the suburban soccer moms on Long Island in the way it will hurt the single moms in Little Rock, Ark., which will soon be grimly landlocked between states in which abortion is illegal, unconditionally. Abortion is often not an elective procedure; it’s a treatment for ectopic pregnancies, septic uteruses, and complicated miscarriages. For those who require abortion care, Dobbs might be a death sentence. Seen in this light, one can’t help but wonder who the real “murderers” are.
Once again, the decisions of the kakistocracy will most impact those who can least afford it. Those of us who can afford it ought to do something; more on that in a bit.
This is not about me, or people who look and live like me. Maybe soon it will be, but right now, it isn’t, and it’s critical that even those of us who might be up next focus on who’s up now.
I haven’t sat in an abortion clinic waiting for the doctor to walk in, listening as religious zealots yell horrible things about me through the window. I haven’t had to travel hundreds of miles at night to do what needs to be done. I haven’t had to wade through mobs of angry bigots calling me a baby killer and murderer and sinner and maybe even throwing things at me just because I have made the decision — my own decision — to have an abortion. In that way, I cannot offer any words that would better meet the moment than those who are directly impacted by Dobbs.
What little I do have to offer is a bit of insight into how these anti-abortion people think, the sort of people who are at this moment popping bottles of champagne in front of the Supreme Court and who stand outside abortion clinics screaming about Hell and fire and rage — the kind of people who so value our blood-stained “history and tradition.”
They aren’t as radical and fervent and fanatical as you think they are. They’re worse.
Speaking for the Court, Justice Alito wrote:
We hold that Roe and Casey must be overruled. The Constitution makes no reference to abortion, and no such right is implicitly protected by any constitutional provision, including the one on which the defenders of Roe and Casey now chiefly rely—the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. That provision has been held to guarantee some rights that are not mentioned in the Constitution, but any such right must be “deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition” and “implicit in the concept of ordered liberty.” Washington v. Glucksberg, 521 U. S. 702, 721 (1997) (internal quotation marks omitted).
“Any such right must be ‘deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition’.” These people believe that the United States is a so-called Christian nation. To them, “history and tradition” is their history and tradition — the history and tradition of a parasitic brand of Christianity that has been used to justify every comprehensible horror, from slavery to genocide to wars and colonialism. There are a number of other factors that play a role in anti-abortion activism, including misogyny, racism, classism, and other base forms of intolerance. However, the glue that holds the anti-abortion movement together is right-wing Christianity.
That is what lies at the heart of this: The people who call the shots in this country are right-wing Christians, governing from a position of perpetual minority, and it’s their aim to create a world in which their beliefs are law.
It’s not really about abortion, fetuses, or some abstract “right to life.” They believe what they say — they really do want to ban abortion, birth control, and anything remotely homosexual — but it goes deeper than that. We can debate the semantics, argue about generalizing, and turn this into an intellectual game of “not all Christians.” I myself am a baptized Catholic by choice, having converted at sixteen and taken the confirmation name John. I paid attention in those mandatory theology classes. I know these people, and I know two things about them. First: Some of the best people I know are Christians, Catholics, atheists, Muslims, Jews, or Sikhs because religion does not determine the moral goodness of a person. I have no particular hatred against any religion. Second: The sort of ‘pro-life’ people who are overjoyed today are self-righteous con artists, hypocrites who relish the chance to spit in your face in Jesus’ name.
I know these people well because I was surrounded by them at Catholic school. These are the people who looked into my friends’ eyes and told them that they were “disgusted” upon learning that said friends were conceived through in-vitro fertilization. These are the people who used a piece of dirty tape, applied and reapplied to several people, to demonstrate how your value as a woman is substantially lessened by each new sexual partner. There are tens of millions of them across the nation, including many women, whose belief systems are so rooted in misogyny and hate that they themselves might not even know how truly warped said belief systems are. They are pawns in a horrific zero-sum game — to borrow from Hannah Arendt, they are the Little Eichmanns of the war on abortion.
It makes no difference if they really believe it, either. Belief is a feeling. The actions are what matter. The people who lead these movements aren’t just radical; they’re dangerous. For years, they’ve harassed people outside of clinics, firebombed and shot up providers’ homes and workplaces. They truly believe that God is sending them to do His bidding and that His bidding is the absolute subjugation of so-called lesser beings. The line they used on us was something to the tune of, “Women aren’t less than, they’re just different,” which when you think about it is the same sentence said two different ways, one of which allows for plausible deniability.
The second you call them on this unbelievable hypocrisy, you assume the role of bigot. When you show up at their door, civility is paramount; when they show up at yours, it’s different, because God told them to be there. Oh, won’t someone think of the right-wing Christians!?
It’s not really about abortion, fetuses, or some abstract “right to life.” These people care about control, about bringing a so-called sinful world to heel. That is the bond that holds the vast Christian right-wing together. They want control over people who they see to be sinful, especially women. They believe they are entitled to control over women. Central to that belief is stripping women of their autonomy — returning Eve to her rightful place in their lived fairy tale.
If you’re one of the people celebrating today and you find yourself here at this sentence, seething and feeling deeply, personally insulted, I ask one thing of you: think for a moment.
Think of the thousands of people who woke up this morning and traveled to a clinic, often one very far from home on their own money, to get an abortion for whatever the hell reason they so chose. Think of the expectant parent who is disabled — the person for whom pregnancy is a literal, actual, honest-to-god death sentence. Think of the sixteen-year-old who is pregnant, and how that sixteen-year-old did not plan on being pregnant, and how that sixteen-year-old will now be forced to bear that child. I want you to think of the person who lives under the overpass at Plymouth and Rodman, how they are now pregnant, and what you think they should do. I want you to think of these things as you dance outside and pop champagne as it rains blood.
It isn’t those who have had abortions who need to repent. It’s you.
The harsh reality of history is that maybe Dr. King was wrong, and the arc of the universe does not bend towards justice because there is no arc, just a series of events that happen over time. Sometimes the bad guys win. Today, the bad guys won. I have no answers — only a hot rage and aching in my midsection that I am absolutely sure pales in comparison to that felt by tens of millions of people across this country.
Maybe in time, more words will come, but I think it’s best to leave it there. I have dedicated the rest of this newsletter to resources related to abortion services, as well as stories from those who have had abortions and ways in which we as a collective can help those most impacted by Dobbs. There are so many voices, so many stories, that remain unheard because of the incessant prating of people like myself, people who have very little (if any) skin in the game. Please listen to them.
I want you to take a moment to first listen, and then take a breath or scream or cry, or maybe all three, and then continue to do the work necessary to undo the terrible damage that has been done today. Some moments demand action; this is one of them.
LISTEN
Abortion Out Loud, a project of the reproductive rights organization Advocates for Youth, compiled a collection of more than 1,500 personal stories from people who have had abortions. The collection is available in full here.
“Having an abortion was the most upsetting and darkest decision of my life, however, not regretful for our family. We are a family of four and while we are happy now, we were miserable and believed that trying for a baby would save the marriage… that was not the case. After both agreeing that it was not the time, we went through the abortion and worked on our marriage. Now – 9 months later, the heartbeat abortion bill was passed and I can only imagine all the heartbreak and stress this is causing for many women, men, and families.” — Jane
“I got my abortion during the Covid-19 Pandemic. I was finishing my final semester remotely and knew that my best option was an abortion. The person who got me pregnant was manipulating me constantly and I knew that I could not have a baby with this person. At the time, I was living in Southern Maryland. I could not do a medication abortion because I was living at home with my chaotic family. The closest clinic was an hour and 15 minutes away but I could not drive myself due to the sedation medication. I spent weeks arguing back and forth with my ex about funding and transportation. I called the abortion fund for Maryland and was told that I could only use their funding for clinics that are not Planned Parenthood. The earliest appointment to have it done prior to Christmas was Planned Parenthood so I hung up on the fund and cried myself to sleep.” — Alyssa
“I tell my abortion story for a myriad of reasons. Some of the most important reasons I share my story are that there are not that many open trans people speaking about having had abortions. I am able to be visible and bring attention to the fact that people other than women have abortions. I want other trans people to be able to see themselves in the reproductive justice movement. I also feel like every time I tell my story I take a little bit of power back for myself. It’s my story and I get to tell it how I want to.” — Cazembe
Planned Parenthood, one of the nation’s largest abortion care and reproductive healthcare providers, maintains a section on their website for patients to share their stories — not only about abortion, but other healthcare needs that Planned Parenthood met for them. It can be accessed here.
“My life is better because of my decision. I got to finish high school, and I became a certified nurse assistant. I decided to apply to work at Planned Parenthood because going there as a patient made me want to help other women the way they helped me, and I ended up working there for four and a half years. If I’d been raising a child since the age of 17, I would not have been able to go into the health care field. Six years ago, I became pregnant again — but this time, I was financially stable and emotionally ready to become a parent. This time, my choice was to keep the pregnancy. Today, I’m a proud parent of a little boy and successfully pursuing my career. It’s important that abortion remain safe and legal for women.” — Shawanna
The Atlantic has an essay on its website, penned anonymously by “Mrs. X,” in which a woman describes how she obtained an “illegal” abortion in 1965. It can be read here.
“Is it moral anguish, fear of fine or imprisonment, and terror about illicit practices on families who have sound social reasons for terminating an unwanted pregnancy? If it is moral to prevent conception, is it immoral to interrupt an ill-advised one?”
In 2020, Vogue ran an excerpt of Christa Parravani’s memoir, Loved and Wanted, in which she describes attempting to obtain an abortion in West Virginia, one of the most socially conservative states in the country. It can be read here; Parravani’s memoir can be purchased here.
“The doctor looked at the floor. He was sorry, he said, he couldn’t help. That’s just the way it was. Was he looking at me with pity? I’ve not been able to forget the look on his face. He tilted his head to the side and half smiled, which I mistook as an apology. My pants and undergarments lay rumpled on a chair in a far corner of the room. The young doctor stood up from his little wheelie stool, wished me well, asked me to dress, and then closed the door. I stared at the door, bargaining. Someone would return to that sterile room and take a second look at me. Another doctor would sort this through. I remained on the table until a nurse knocked. A new patient needed the space.”
This morning, The New Yorker ran a Jia Tolentino piece on what a post-Roe America will look like. It can be read here. In it, Tolentino discusses the idea of ‘fetal personhood,’ a theological concept that lies at the center of the anti-abortion movement and underscores how out of touch with reality the movement is:
“The theological concept of fetal personhood—the idea that, from the moment of conception, an embryo or fetus is a full human being, deserving of equal (or, more accurately, superior) rights—is a foundational doctrine of the anti-abortion movement. The legal ramifications of this idea—including the possible classification of I.V.F., IUDs, and the morning-after pill as instruments of murder—are unhinged, and much harsher than what even the average anti-abortion American is currently willing to embrace. Nonetheless, the anti-abortion movement is now openly pushing for fetal personhood to become the foundation of U.S. abortion law.”
Buzzfeed, of all outlets, has collected a comprehensive listicle of stories from celebrities about their own abortions. As the outlet noted in a tweet, “Everyone's experience with abortion is different, and there isn't "one standard" situation. And while many of these stories were shared about celebrities pre-fame, it must be noted that celebrities have a privileged access to abortion that many citizens in the US do not.” The listicle can be read here.
ACT
Planned Parenthood is by far the most well-known provider of abortion services, but the national organization also provides a host of other healthcare services, often in areas where there are few other options. You can donate to Planned Parenthood here.
National Black Women’s Reproductive Justice Agenda is a national-state partnership that aims to secure reproductive rights for all while focusing on lifting up Black women and femme leaders. You can donate to them here.
NARAL Pro-Choice America, or NARAL, is a national reproductive rights organization fighting for abortion access, birth control access, paid family leave, and anti-discrimination protections for women. They also go undercover to expose fake abortion clinics. You can donate to NARAL here.
The Guttmacher Institute is primarily dedicated to using research, strategic communications, and advocacy to support abortion access nationwide. You can donate here.
The National Network of Abortion Funds is a national organization that works with over 80 smaller organizations nationwide to ensure access to funding for abortion services nationwide. Their accessible website allows patients to find providers near them. You can donate here.
Call your members of Congress. Of course, there’s no guarantee they’ll listen, but when all else fails, taking the fight to them may be the best course of action. If you choose to do this, please remember that the person answering your call or email is likely an under- or unpaid intern, and does not have the final say on policy matters. You can find your member of Congress and their contact information here.
Get out there and do it. There will be hundreds if not thousands of protests in the coming days, weeks, and months. Keep an eye out on social media and local news outlets for an opportunity to make your voice heard. Keep in mind that protests can quickly devolve into riots and that there are a number of steps you should take to keep yourself and those around you safe. Read more about best protest practices here. Refer to this link for a guide on what to say and do if you find yourself in the custody of law enforcement.
Take care of yourself. These are very difficult times for all of us, some more than others. While it’s important to do what you can to make a difference, you can’t pour water from an empty glass. Mental health resources are available here.
The views and opinions expressed here are mine and mine alone; of course, I think they should be yours, too, but they do not represent the views and opinions of my employer or anyone with whom I am associated. All quoted material is quoted as written or spoken, and in many cases does not represent my views and opinions. Names have been changed to provide anonymity. Annals of American Life is generally a nonfiction letter, but no guarantee of truth in reporting is made unless explicitly stated. I am not a journalist.