NO,WEWON'TKEEPOURVOICESDOWN

Baileymerlin

I’ve never had an abortion. I know many people who have, though it’s a fact spoken of in hushed tones. “If my husband knew…” they would say, voices trailing. “If my father found out…” was another refrain. Those sentences were never finished aloud, but I heard them all the same: “…he would kill me.” planning centers and call children “Whore” to their faces. The men who threaten doctors with violence and sometimes come through on their promises. The family planning center in my hometown was firebombed in 1984. The year I was born, Dr. David Gunn was shot down; his killer was put to death ten years later in 2003.

Being raised in the South meant a lot of things: summer was everlasting, hushpuppies were common, and talking about abortion was something only fallen women did.

A friend of mine had an abortion at 16. Even though her dream since we were children was to be a mother, it was something that she wasn’t prepared for just yet. Even as I write this, a part of my upbringing whispers, “If you’re not ready for the consequences, you shouldn’t have sex.” I’ll spend the rest of my life wrangling with that false belief, no matter how quiet it is.

My inner voice is nothing compared to the loud, virulent voices of the South. The women who picket family

Maybe whispering about abortion in the South is still the safest choice. When my friend’s father found out she had an abortion, he didn’t kill her directly, but he did throw her out. She stayed with a mutual friend for a few days before her aunt from a few states over came to collect her. We never spoke again.

I often think about her, hoping she escaped her father’s wrath and could live out a life of safety and love with her aunt. If she decided to have kids, I hope she’s happy. If she didn’t have kids, I hope she’s happy. I think, too, of the other women who confided in me over the years about their own abortions, desperate to confide in the safety of a friend but terrified by the prospect of a man in their life