SMASH ABORTION STIGMA
Why I’m raising the volume on abortion rights
How I turned my passive support for the pro-choice movement into an active effort to break the silence on abortion
For five years I lived next door to the Marie Stopes clinic on Brixton Hill in London. I walked past its blue gates every day. I directed lost women (and men) to its doors when they inadvertently pitched up outside my flat. I became immune to the handful of anorak-clad, rosary-clutching, placard-waving protesters who would huddle across the road from the clinic, often blocking the pavement by the bus stop.
I didn’t think much about that Marie Stopes clinic. It was just a reassuring landmark in my daily routine. A reminder that if I was ever to need it, it would be there.
Over those five years I had a series of short-term, ill-fated relationships; I frequented Brixton’s clubs and drinking dens; I often drank too much, partied too hard, and didn’t necessarily always make the best choices.
But I felt comforted that I lived next door to the clinic; I could choose to use it. I could choose to have an abortion if I wanted or needed one. This may sound irresponsible; that I take the idea of having an abortion lightly; but in truth it’s more about an inalienable belief that anything to do with my body and my life is my decision.
I have always taken my views on abortion for granted. I’m unapologetically pro-choice and have been for as long as I can remember. But for a long time, I don’t think I ever really thought about why; I just was. I knew that if I was ever to need an abortion, I would have one. And that I would support anyone else making the same choice. It was a passive kind of viewpoint, coming from a privileged position of never really having to question myself or defend my opinions.
And then I moved to America.
Previously, I’d not witnessed whole sections of society defining themselves and their identities as being for or against abortion; I’d not seen politicians and candidates grilled on where they stood in the abortion ‘debate’, I’d not heard stories of women not being able to afford care because their insurance excluded it or having to travel hundreds of miles, across state lines, to access a clinic at all.
I knew what Roe v. Wade was, and that technically abortion care was available ‘on demand’ across the US, but I was unprepared for the extreme politicisation of an issue I personally saw as completely uncontroversial. And I realised I really, really cared about it.
I lived in New York City during the last US election cycle; through the primaries of 2015 and the vitriolic, surprising and ultimately devastating 2016 election that saw Trump take the White House. I worked in a busy newsroom, where reporters were bombarded on a daily basis with campaign rhetoric; where we covered identity politics heavily; and watched with horror as the momentum around Trump — complete with his new-found opposition to abortion — gathered pace.
I winced watching the final Presidential Debate when Trump talked graphically about ‘ripping babies from mothers’ wombs’ to describe abortions carried out later in pregnancy; and stated his ambition to appoint anti-choice justices to the Supreme Court. I despaired on November 9, when result after result confirmed the worst possible outcome, and Trump was elected with Mike Pence — a rabid and vocal opponent of choice — by his side.
I returned to the UK shortly after the election, before Trump’s first act as President, which was — flanked by a bunch of middle-aged men — to sign the Global Gag Rule back into effect, restricting access to reproductive healthcare for millions of people across the globe and putting lives at risk. And back home, where I’d always taken reproductive rights for granted, I began to take more notice of what was going on, and to question what access people actually had.
I was previously clueless that abortion in the UK is governed under criminal law, thanks to the Offences Against the Person Act, passed under Queen Victoria in 1861. 1861! Or that we can only access abortion care because of the 1967 Abortion Act, which doesn’t decriminalise abortion, but instead provides a legal defence for a woman, whose physical or mental health is at risk, to have an abortion. But only if two doctors agree.
I didn’t know that someone seeking an abortion for social or economic reasons technically has to say that they can’t ‘cope’ with having a child; I didn’t know they had to give a reason at all. I didn’t know that two doctors had to agree to sign off the procedure, effectively taking away a woman’s agency to make the decision on her own. I didn’t know that non-compliance with the terms of the Abortion Act can carry a prison sentence.
I know, in practice, accessing abortion care isn’t very difficult here; but on a philosophical level, why do barriers exist at all? Shouldn’t we be trusting women and pregnant people to make their own decisions, free from the need to give a reason for their choice? Shouldn’t we be able to access abortion care entirely on our own terms, rather than having to ask two doctors for permission about what to do with our own bodies and futures?
I wanted to do something to help answer these questions, to raise the volume on abortion, to decrease the stigma by talking openly about it, and to increase understanding about the challenges faced. So, almost four years on from my time in the US, armed with a much better understanding of the obstacles faced here and elsewhere, I have turned my benign opinion on abortion into an active one — and now work for Marie Stopes International.
I work for an organisation that’s standing up to Trump and his administration’s attempts to restrict access both at home in the US and overseas; an organisation that supported the women of the Republic of Ireland as they successfully overturned the 8th Amendment; that campaigned for women in Northern Ireland to have legal access; and that’s calling for the full decriminalisation of abortion everywhere in the UK, as well as in multiple countries across the world.
I no longer live next door to the blue gates of the Brixton clinic, but instead everyday I lend my voice and my support to the many women and pregnant people in countries on every continent, who all deserve to feel secure in the knowledge that they can exercise their right to choose to have an abortion whenever they want or need, without ever having to say why.
Support Marie Stopes International’s #SmashAbortionStigma campaign by sharing why you’re pro-choice at mariestopes.org/smash-abortion-stigma
