Law student, social justice advocate, feminist, creative writer. With liberty, justice, and homemade cookies for all.
I worked at McDonald’s and I spent the money I earned at McDonald’s to get my abortion. I was only fifteen and the person who got me pregnant did not want to give me any money. I was $40 short, so I had my drug dealer call him and threaten him, so he gave me the last $40.
I really credit it as something that changed my life because I got a job, I took care of my business, and I moved on. And I’m not one of those people who’d have looked back and been like, Oh, that kid would be 30 right now… I don’t think, Oh, I really regret it… Maybe that’s a fucked-up thing to say but, I don’t regret it at all, number one, and number two, it was one of the best things that happened to me. Not actually being on the table and having it done, but feeling like I was responsible for my own life and realizing that when I made mistakes, there were consequences and that I could take care of those consequences. I could make mistakes and I could fix them. And live with them.
A man who assisted in autopsies in a big urban hospital, starting in the mid-1950s, describes the many deaths from botched abortions that he saw. “The deaths stopped overnight in 1973.” He never saw another in the 18 years before he retired. “That,” he says, “ought to tell people something about keeping abortion legal.”
Never forget: Roe v. Wade wasn’t the beginning of abortion in America. It was the beginning of the end of illegal abortions. If you haven’t read this piece before, I highly recommend it.
Slate: Why don’t you just get admitting privileges at a local hospital and comply with the new law?
Minto: They won’t have me. They are religiously affiliated. So you know, Jesus.
Many of these bans theorize about when a fetus can feel pain, but what about the real pain my son would have experienced every day of his life? Because as unimaginable as our choice once felt, I made it precisely because I imagined watching, helpless, as he suffered for however long the doctors would have been able to keep a heart “incompatible with life” beating. I imagined enduring as he underwent major bleeds, compromised organ function, developmental delays, and additional surgeries to treat additional complications, only to lose him, very likely long before he was old enough to understand what it was that was happening. It’s hard for me to believe that anyone, knowing what I now know, would make me bring a baby into the world for such an end.