Aborted Stories In Stanford’s Graveyard Of Roses
On Jan. 22 each year, a part of Stanford University’s bustling, sun-kissed central plaza transforms into a fake graveyard composed of rows of white paper roses.
A banner, hung between two trees that on other days would hold a slackline, reads: “Honoring the victims of Roe v. Wade.”
I’ve never had an abortion, and have always been pro-choice. But during my senior year at Stanford, I felt like I registered that sea of mock graves as another woman — one who’d had an abortion and been tortured by that decision. I remember looking at the rose-covered grass, unable to speak, with a behind-the-jaw buzzing of tears withheld.
On the pro-choice side of the plaza, my friends had their anger and their cardboard signs. That morning, I felt like I didn’t know how to talk to them.
I knew I’d eventually have to talk to somebody.
I later speak to Katherine, a volunteer for Exhale, an after-abortion counseling talk line. (Editor’s note: The interviewee’s name has been changed at her request.) I tell her about the mock graveyard, and she says she understands why I couldn’t communicate my unexpected guilt and sadness to my sign-bearing pro-choice friends.
Katherine describes Exhale as an alternative to the dichotomy of the cardboard signs and the rose graveyard. She brings up a grey area occupied by women who are strongly against abortion and then need one or have one. Exhale supports these women, whose stories often end up distorted or unheard because they don’t fit what Katherine describes as “some kind of pro-choice or pro-life narrative.”
I was particularly curious about how Exhale helps callers whose religion forbids abortion. When counseling people with religious associations, Katherine says she tries to help people incorporate their abortion experience into the bigger narrative of their lives, which includes their faith. She also connects people to Faith Aloud, which is a service run by religious leaders trained to conduct abortion counseling in a way that is sensitive to religious issues.
Exhale’s talk line started in 2002, and has since received more than 30,000 calls. The talk line is currently open from 5–10 p.m. on weekdays and noon-10 p.m. on weekends.
Katherine’s path to Exhale started with a college biology class about women’s health and reproduction. As an undergraduate, she realized that she was still learning basic features of her own body.
“I remember thinking women’s bodies are really powerful, and to so many people are mysterious and difficult and challenging,” she says.
Katherine affirms that Exhale focuses on validating the “lived experience” of women who have had an abortion. Much of the pro-choice activism that I’ve seen supports women who’ve had abortions by focusing exclusively on the fact that they should have the right to choose. But Katherine’s emphasis on “lived experience” relies on the notion that there’s a distinct importance to affirming both a woman’s right and her personal story.
I kept fixating on the contrast Katherine drew between focusing on life experience versus politics. Of course, Exhale is necessarily political: it affirms a woman’s right to choose by supporting those who’ve had abortions. But Exhale focuses on validating all aspects of a woman’s abortion experience — including pain, regret and ambivalence — that many pro-choice circles might consider betrayals of the abortion-rights cause.
The focus on the political can make a woman feel silenced about the complexity of her abortion story. A woman who shares her abortion experience also risks being seen as a representative of an issue (someone who has had an abortion) rather than as an individual (someone whose life story includes an abortion.)
When I ask Katherine to tell me about the talkline call that she thinks about most often, she tells me about a conversation that lasted less than a minute. A woman called and said, “I had an abortion several years ago and I still think about it. It’s still something that’s in my life and it’s still not behind me. Is that normal?”
Katherine told the woman that her experience was “totally normal” and that everyone has “her own timeline.” That was enough.
“I feel so much better now. Thank you,” the woman said. Then she hung up.
This anonymous talkline makes callers feel seen.
As I walked around the perimeter of the Stanford pro-life demonstration last January, I was struck by the sameness of all the paper white roses. For one side they represented murders. For the other, they represented instances of a woman exercising her right.
In their sameness, the roses were without stories.
[Thanks for reading. This story originally appeared on ripple.co. If you like what you read, please check out more of our stories.]
