First, to the few of you actually reading this thing, my apologies for the extended lull in posting. I’m working on multiple projects at the moment, for which blogging has temporarily taken a back seat.
Today, though, I want to present to you my take on a topic because of how it hits particularly close to home for me. It is not an I’m-write-and-they’re-wrong stance, but rather an invitation to deeper reflection and discussion of the topic. For the sake of ethos, I want to open this with a personal anecdote. It’s probably going to feel a bit off-the-rails going in, but bear with me — this will culminate to my point regarding the topic at hand.
My mother was pressured to abort me.
During the ’70s, my teenage mother was a bit, shall we say, promiscuous, for lack of a better word. (To be a teenager is to be riddled with impulses, regardless.) One such fling resulted in my fetus announcing its arrival early in the year of 1979.
Now, an important side note: Be aware of the the culture of the ’70s, even the early ’80s that followed. To be a single unwed mother back then was to be more of a pariah than even today. It was even more so of a scarlet letter on the forehead that what we’re accustomed to.
With that in mind: My arrival was not just a damning visible scar on my mother’s reputation, but it was a disgrace to my entire family’s honor (again, seen via their cultural moral filter of the day).
My grandmother, a highly-revered matriarch in my family, wanted none of this and pressured my mother to abort me. My mother — all her other faults notwithstanding — refused.
There was a whole chain of shame-driven events that followed like dominoes, none of this which I’d learn about until my mid-20’s. This progression of bad decision followed by worse decision culminated into a deceitful narrative I grew up my entire youth believing that all revolved around a fictional, murdered father figure who never existed. This whimsical narrative (a topic for another day) to cover up a past they were collectively ashamed of went so far as to provide me with a fictional legal last name. (Yes — “Panetti” is made up.
Were convention followed, my last name would be “Barton”, after my actual father, who is in fact still alive, though denies relation.) 2022 Update: Haha just kidding on that whole “Barton” thing — Years of detective work since this post fully disproved that previous lead (insert facepalm).
Where am I going with this? Two personal conclusions:
One – I enjoy being alive. I am not a fan of the idea of having been aborted.
Two – The dominant norms of fundamentalist evangelical Christian conservatism leaned in favor of my abortion. I understand my anecdotal experience to be a microcosm of the culture of the day. Before you rise to debate that conclusion, consider: were fundigelical conservatism not driving societal morals, there would have been no shame in being a single mother to begin with. That much is undeniable. Catalyst. Reaction.
If you doubt the influence of conservative fundigelicalism even still, then I present anecdotal Exhibit B: when I finally learned of this in my mid-20s, that truth was accompanied by a rather cutting claim from another paving-hell-with-good-intentions family member that the “sins of the father” (in this case sex outside of marriage) are a curse carried by the son, and that I myself, by extension, was ripe for sexual sin because of theirs. This was in the early 2000’s, not the ’70s.
Now only was it their shame then, it was my shame now. What?
My story is not unique (save the over-the-top fictional dad part). My story is shared by countless others of my generation, else I wouldn’t dare suggest my anecdotal experience is adequately instructive.
Today, fundamentalist evangelical conservative Christians are insisting that abortion is murder and must be illegal. Full stop.
Something doesn’t add up here.
To put it another way: the need for abortion to arbitrarily save face — a problem created by fundigelicalism — is a problem that must be solved by fundigelicalism.
We have a word for that in psychology when such a claim is made to an individual: gaslighting. “It’s your fault I made you do that, and only I can fix this by punishing you.” This is gaslighting on a macro level, moving across multiple generations.
2022 Update: So, funny story — the entire 2nd half of this post vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. No idea what happened, though I suspect my recent WordPress migration might be to blame.
Anyway, the short-short-short version: “Pro-choice” doesn’t mean “pro-abortion”; no one actually wants more abortions. Abortions are always unfortunate, but (a) are sometimes medically necessary and (b) the abortions-for-birth-control archetype is a strawman. I’m pro-choice in that I support a mother’s choice based on her own best discernment and I’m pro-life in that I support building a community that provides access to women’s healthcare, including affordable-if-not-free after-birth childcare so, that they can make the best choice possible.
The two are not at all mutually exclusive. The controversy was fabricated for political gain and nothing more. I’ll write a new piece on this to go into detail. (Mind you, what I’ve said here still paints this too simply, but it’s the short-short-short version.)
James, I dunno if you remember the very heartfelt letter you wrote me when we were just about 17, and I was faced with this very situation. (Note: I often think I’m a rather forgettable person, so no worries if you don’t. But that’s my personal issue…something about a window test I once did in college that proved I have at least one aspect of myself that I do not see clearly. Lol.) But you did write it and even before you did, I had my views of what I should do in the back of my head. I know your words gave me the courage I needed to face that long, twisting, frightening, and often “ripping your hair out by handfuls” road of being a single, teenage mother. At the time, abortion wasn’t even on the table. I had the path laid out before me in two options, and though it may not have seemed like it to an outsider at the time, it was a rather easy choice. Path 1) Become a single, teen mom just out of high school and forget all I dreamt of since 7th grade, and walk a path of uncertainty, confusion, and exile; or Path 2) Take that pill the doctor had in his hand that would get rid of the (some have called them) parasite feeding on me and go to Oxford (England) on multiple scholarships, become a well-rounded, young author, which may very likely result in being published at a very young age, granting me success and wealth. Hmm… many thought (including my own mother) I was struggling with this decision.
In reality, though, it was not a decision. The minute I killed the rabbit, I decided immediately I would not walk away from this path. Having never had money of my own, since my money went to pay bills the ex-steploser racked up and mom had cancer from the time I was 12 to the time I was 18, money just was NOT (still isn’t) a motivating factor for me. My sense of responsibility took over maybe.
That said, the only decision that was tough to make was, how do I break this to everyone? Not that I ever cared what most in high school thought of me. But there were a select few whose opinion I held in high regard. Mostly because I thought they were my friends and maybe I am weird, but friends were always something special and I believe in little things like…loyalty.
That said, imagine my surprise when a voice I’ve known since 4th grade came back to say, “I was the child of a single, teenage mother…it’s okay. It doesn’t make you a bad person to keep your child and defy what others think you should do…” Those simple words gave me the willpower to stand up to all those would-be judgmental jerks (not the word I used so often over the years, but in keeping with my respectful tone…) and say “Don’t like it? Don’t talk to me! I don’t need your approval!” And that’s EXACTLY what I did to friends who said “You screwed up, G!” It’s exactly what I said to a specific adult who thought he could tell me how little he thought of my decision and it would make a difference that his opinion of me fell so low.
Him: *looking at my 7-months pregnant stomach* “Gina, I want you to know I’m very disappointed in you. I thought you were smarter than this and would go places. I’m really just let down that you messed up like this.”
Me: *Looks him dead in the eyes* “Okay.” *Walked off to my car, started it, and waited patiently for mom to come out from speaking with her BFF at the time, aka, his wife!*
Overall, those little words did more than you’d ever know to give me the courage to stand by my decision to keep the baby and screw what everyone else thought.
On a side note, I have my own anecdote to share with you and this community. Here’s one thing few (if any) of you know. 8 months after my beautiful daughter graced this world with her presence, I became pregnant again. This was with a guy I had been seeing on and off since 9th grade. We had a tulmultuous four years together from ‘95 to early ‘99, when I met my first husband. That 4 years was filled with teen love, arguing, fighting, 7 breakups, 6 make-ups, and two and a half years of his violent, often impulsive outbursts, in which he hit me, sometimes even while we were in bed. Though he had mellowed somewhat by the time I became pregnant, he still had his moments where he’d forget the very serious talk he had before we got back together that last time (with several threats from various “brothers” of mine) and slap/hit me.
When I became pregnant, I knew immediately I could not have another baby. For one thing, AJ was 8 months old, I was working full time, going to college full time, and I rarely had time between college and work on certain nights to spend with my quickly growing child. So, I thought about it. For the second reason, my partner was nowhere near ready to be a father (and had proved as much since he didn’t know how to handle my daughter) and said it outright. If he treated me that way, what would he do to a kid? So my decision came from the heart. Never having been an overly religious person, though very spiritual and sound in my relationship with G-Man, I asked for guidance on the choices I had. When I made up my mind, I discussed it with the bf, then my mother, and finally his mother. 2 out of 3 agreed with me. The bf and my mother. My mother disliked him from the first time he hit me. The bf wasn’t ready. His mother had the objections. I considered her point of view, and then made a decision I never thought I would. And I DO NOT/ HAVE NOT, for one moment, regretted it.
I’ve heard from family over the last several years that he now has 6 kids from 3 different mothers and doesn’t support even one of them. True or not, I made the right decision. I’m not saying I believe in abortion. Not saying I don’t. Just saying I made the right decision at that time in my life, much like I made the right one at the tender age of 17.
In a lot of ways, your words stuck with me and impacted both decisions. Those thoughtful words of encouragement actually applied to so many other areas in my life, too. I live my life always thinking there’s always going to be naysayers, hypocrites, and judgement. You can’t let them get to you. Everything happens for a reason. I truly believe that! I’ve seen that in action over the last two years, more times than I can count. Just remember you can’t please everyone all the time. Or even everyone SOME of the time.
And if any of you know anything about me, you’ll know I do not believe in labels either. I’m a lot like you, James. I fall in the middle, or more often than not, on BOTH sides of the fence on nearly every controversial subject. I’m neither a Democrat, nor a Republican. I don’t believe in labels. I believe in the 2nd Amendment, but I also believe in rights for ALL, including gays, straight, black, white, etc. I also believe in the Death Penalty for SOME cases. (Those cases being specifically pedophiles who are beyond a doubt guilty.) I do not care what people do with their life as long as they are good people, and bring no harm to anyone else — ESPECIALLY A CHILD! We are human and therefore, imperfect. We make mistakes. We sometimes harm others. But if it’s not intentional, it’s nothing more than a mistake.
The question is now: Am I Pro-Life, or am I Pro-Choice? The answer: I’m Pro “Whatever You Decide”, so long as you’ve discussed it with those who matter (yes, including the father if he is around and you willingly submitted to him to make the baby) and you make the decision YOU can live with in the end!
One final note: Thank you, James. You really did help this friend find the courage to do what I wanted the whole time, without questioning my decisions, even for a moment—ever! I’m sure my children thank you for that. I know I can’t thank you enough! Blessed be, Good Sir! 🙂
😇 Bro… I love it. Most people are too dim to even write such a well thought and ultra logical piece.
I am right there with you as being pro-life AND pro-choice.
My huge problem with the church is stifiling free will. The lord gave me that to decide on my own. Not to have some cult views on God/Yah dictate how I must live or live in shame. It is a joke and yes, complete gaslighting.
Stand tall guy who is not ‘Panetti’ for you are a badass amd still the reigning champion of “best dude met at a singles event by a straight man” in my own strange and odd microcosm of life. 💜💛
Well written sir, This perspective never even crossed my mind, but I agree with the entire outlawing game abortion increases the rate of occurrence just like drug use more or less.