I stole this from CE&P. Thoughts?
I wish my mother had aborted me
This is no
'I wish I'd never been born' howl of angst. I love my mother, and having
an abortion would have given her a better life
If there is
one thing that anti-choice activists do that makes me see red, it is
when they parade out their poster children: men, women and children who
were "targeted for abortion". They tell us "these people would not be
alive today if abortion had been legal or if their mothers had made a
different choice".
In the last couple of months, I have read two
of these abortion deliverance stories that have been particularly
offensive. The first story is one propagated by Rebecca Kiessling, the
poster child for the no exceptions in cases of rape or incest. On her
website Kiessling says that every time we say abortion should be
allowed, at least in the case of rape or incest, we are saying to her:
"If I had my way, you'd be dead right now." She goes on to say, "I
absolutely would have been aborted if it had been legal in Michigan when
I was an unborn child, and I can tell you that it hurts [when people
say that abortion should be legal]."
The second story was on the
Good Men Project this week. In an article entitled Delivered from
abortion: healing a forgotten memory, Gordon Dalbey tells a highly
unlikely story about his mother's decision to abort him and her eventual
change of heart. I say the story is highly unlikely because the type of
abortion he says his mother was about to have was not available until
50 years later. However, Dalbey claims to have recovered a memory of
being "delivered" from the abortion because as a fetus he cried out to
God. He claims that the near-abortion experience had caused him
psychological suffering throughout his life. Since recovering the
memory, he has experienced survivor's guilt because he was saved when so
many other fetuses have been aborted. In explaining how he overcame
this guilt, he quotes a Jewish survivor of the Holocaust who says that
the purpose of surviving is to testify to the experience.
What
makes these stories so infuriating to me is that they are emotional
blackmail. As readers or listeners, we are almost forced by these
anti-choice versions of A Wonderful Life to say, "Oh, I am so glad you
were born." And then by extension, we are soon forced into saying, "Yes,
of course, every blastula of cells should be allowed to develop into a
human being."
Stories like Dalbey's are probably effective
because they follow the same model. First there is a woman facing the
unplanned pregnancy that poses severe problems. In Dalbey's case, his
family is suffering from extreme poverty, and in the case of Kiessling,
her mother is dealing with the aftermath of rape. The story shifts so
that the mother has a divine or moral enlightenment and knows that she
must carry the baby to term. We are left with an adult praising the
bravery of their mothers and testifying that their lives were saved for
some higher purpose. But the story goes on to tell us how even the
contemplation of abortion was horribly scarring for the person. The
moral of these stories is clear: considering abortion is like
considering genocide.
Here is why it is so effective: people
freak out when you tell an opposing story. I make even my most ardent
pro-choice friends and colleagues very uncomfortable when I explain why
my mother should have aborted me. Somehow they confuse the
well-considered and rational: "The best choice for both my mother and me
would have been abortion" with the infamous expression of depression
and angst: "I wish I had never been born." The two are really very
different things, and we must draw that distinction clearly.
The
narrative that anti-choice crusaders are telling is powerful, moving,
and best of all it has a happy ending. It makes the woman who carries to
term a hero, and for narrative purposes it hides her maternal failing.
We cannot argue against heroic, redemptive, happy-ending fairytales
using cold statistics. If we want to keep our reproductive rights, we
must be willing to tell our stories, to be willing and able to say, "I
love my life, but I wish my mother had aborted me."
An abortion
would have absolutely been better for my mother. An abortion would have
made it more likely that she would finish high school and get a college
education. At college in the late 1960s, it seems likely she would have
found feminism or psychology or something that would have helped her
overcome her childhood trauma and pick better partners. She would have
been better prepared when she had children. If nothing else, getting an
abortion would have saved her from plunging into poverty. She likely
would have stayed in the same socioeconomic strata as her parents and
grandparents who were professors. I wish she had aborted me because I
love her and want what is best for her.
Abortion would have been a
better option for me. If you believe what reproductive scientists tell
us, that I was nothing more than a conglomeration of cells, then there
was nothing lost. I could have experienced no consciousness or pain. But
even if you discount science and believe I had consciousness and could
experience pain at six gestational weeks, I would chose the brief pain
or fear of an abortion over the decades of suffering I endured.
An
abortion would have been best for me because there is no way that my
love-starved, trauma-addled mother could have ever put me up for
adoption. It was either abortion or raising me herself, and she was in
no position to raise a child. She had suffered a traumatic brain injury,
witnessed and experienced severe domestic violence, and while she was
in grade school she was raped by a stranger and her mother committed
suicide. She was severely depressed and suicidal, had an extremely poor
support system, was experiencing an unplanned pregnancy that resulted
from coercive sex, and she was so young that her brain was still
undeveloped.
With that constellation of factors, there was a very
high statistical probability that my mother would be an abusive parent,
that we would spend the rest of our lives in crushing poverty, and that
we would both be highly vulnerable to predatory organisations and men.
And that is exactly what happened. She abused me, beating me viciously
and often. We lived in bone-crushing poverty, and our little family
became a magnet for predatory men and organisations. My mother found
minimal support in a small church, and became involved with the pastor
who was undeniably schizophrenic, narcissistic and sadistic. The abuse I
endured was compounded by deprivation. Before the age of 14, I had
never been to a sleepover, been allowed to talk to a friend on the
phone, eaten in a restaurant, watched a television show, listened to the
radio, read a non-Christian book, or even worn a pair of jeans.
If
this were an anti-choice story, this is the part where I would tell you
how I overcame great odds and my life now has special meaning. I would
ask you to affirm that, of course, you are happy I was born, and that
the world would be a darker, poorer place without me.
It is true
that in the past 12 years, I have been able to rise above the
circumstances of my birth and build a life that I truly love. But no one
should have to make such a Herculean struggle for simple normalcy. Even
given the happiness and success I now enjoy, if I could go back in time
and make the choice for my mother, it would be abortion.
The
world would not be a darker or poorer place without me. Actually, in
terms of contributions to the world, I am a net loss. Everything that I
have done ? including parenting, teaching, researching, and being a
loving partner ? could have been done as well, if not better by other
people. Any positive contributions that I have made are completely
offset by what it has cost society to help me overcome the disadvantages
and injuries of my childhood to become a functional and contributing
member of society.
It is not easy to say, "I wish my mother had
aborted me." The right would have us see abortion as women acting out of
cowardice, selfishness, or convenience. But for many women, like my
mother, abortion would be an inconvenient act of courage and
selflessness. I am sad for both of us that she could not find the
courage and selflessness. But my attitude is that as long as I am
already here, I might as well do all I can to make the world a better
place, to ease the suffering of others, and to experience love and life
to its fullest.