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Ain't I A Woman? newspapers, June 1970-July 1971
1970-06-26 "Ain't I a Woman?" Page 6
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ABORTION How it happened, although not part of this story, is the story. I really should have known. "It can't happen to me" just isn't realistic. Neither was a relationship with a guy who felt his manhood threatened by birth control. Get that - manhood- not personhood. Through California's underground at that time you could get anything. One of the cruelest things available was a doctor in Berkeley, who would give shots (estrogen, I think) so that if your period was late it'd bring it on. But the story went that if you went soon enough, you could actually abort. He had quite a business going. Cost about $40, and hurt like hell. This was when my period was about 2 days late. After waiting a week or 10 days, and having one pregnancy prove o.k., though inconclusive, I went back to the doctor. This time it was conclusive. The next day, having heard that physical exertion can bring on an abortion, I washed, swam, and ran once around the track. The next day I started looking for an abortionist. The Bay area at this time had several prestigious doctors at prestigious hospitals under indictment for psychiatric abortions, so the searh wouldn't be easy. I contacted a campus minister whom I had gotten to know well, and he started phoning around. The search narrowed to a doctor in Tijuana, who everyone seemed to have heard of, including my family doctor, after we went through the bit about homes for unwed mother, etc. There apparently had been busts over the border, so it took several phone calls to really make connections. As an added precaution he spoke only Spanish. The price - $1000, plus a fancy hotel and transportation. It was finally reduced to $800, and after what's-his-name said he wasn't going, and I said I'd go alone if I had to, the campus minister and I made plans to go. We emptied my savings account and borrowed some from what's-his-name's roommate (the total extent of all support, moral and financial). The next morning we flew: S.F.-L.A., L. A. - San Diego. I though that I had had morning sickness pretty bad, but by the time we finally got off the plane in San Diego I was so nauseated I could hardly move. We finally get up to this big big hotel at the top of a hill (The Coronado?) It looked expensive. This is our "contact point." We find out what the rates are and check in at the cheap motel across the street. The campus minister keeps calling Tijuana. Not from the motel - it might be bugged. When he could get him, because I was under 21, I couldn't take the bus across. We finally are told (late the next day) to go to a certain room in the hotel and ask for what was obviously a fictitious name. I had used my real name. And he couldn't rent a cat because he had left his identification in his car at the SF airport. We went. By this time the whole thing had gotten to be something like you read in a spy thriller. A bad one. So we meet two couples. One was engaged, the other friends. We called and were told to drive to a certain spot, and we'd be told there where to go next. When we got there, we were told to drive to the High Life Palace. So we drive up and down this road for half an hour, looking for this place. We were also getting pretty panicky. Finally we see a place - the Jai Alai Palace. How could we have known? So we pull into their parking lot, and wait. We make contact, and are to follow this car. It pulls away with a squeal of its tires, and we almost lose it. We finally pull up at this building, and are told to be very quiet. We are - we're petrified. We are led into this room, where our money is taken. The doctor asks who wants to be first. she is given a robe and is taken into the next room. We can hear most of what's going on. she screamed, and the doctor and the nurse would say, "Hush, do you want them to come and find us and take you to jail?" It didn't stop her from screaming. After about 20 minutes she comes out and sits down and gags. I'm next. I found out why she screamed. They only have enough ether to keep you hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness. And it hurt. I have something to bite on, but it could only do so much. I did try not to scream. I tried to take more ether, but they wouldn't let me. The pain finally was undifferentiated, just in waves. And then it was over, and I too staggered out to the waiting room and gagged. At that point that humiliation was pretty insignificant. Then the other woman. Right after she was done, we got in the car, and tore off for the jai alai palace. Then we were on our own. They asked at the border what we'd been doing. So we gave the standard answer "Shopping." And where we were from. But we got through and headed for San Diego. By this time the pain was like period cramps. Just like before. That night I recounted in detail the whole procedure to the campus minister (only one of the men had been allowed to accompany us). It took 2 1/2 hours. Pretty detailed. We finally got back to S. F. and then drove home. And that's when the unexpected part happened. My cool and liberal friends just really had trouble accepting me having an abortion. I was really brave; they couldn't have done it. Again and again. I began to feel like some kind of freak - brave, but still a freak. The point was that I really wasn't brave, but that I had done what I felt I had to do. I had considered the alternatives - but to me there was no alternative. The other response was that girls who got pregnant were dumb. Yeah, thanks a lot. I suppose I had a mild trauma for awhile. I sort of withdrew for a couple of months. My roommates thought I should go to the counselling service. I didn't, and things got to be o.k. after a while. Looking back now, I just wish that I had really felt that I had the right to do as I did. I feel now that I did. Women do have the right to control their bodies. And we'll do it illegally if we have to. There is no reason for women not to talk to one another about abortions. We are kept apart, told that the woman who has one is different. Women really aren't. Once we accept the right to our own bodies, and thus the right of all women to their bodies, we have come one step closer to affirming our sisterhood. And one step closer to radical social change. FUND AND SPEAK OUT ABORTION COSTS- $1000 The Medical Issues cell has started an abortion fund to aid sisters obtaining an abortion. Please mail any money you can to: Abortion Fund 301 Jefferson Building Iowa City, Iowa 52240 The Medical Issues collective is planning to sponsor an abortion speak-out in the near future. We would like all women who would be interested in sharing their abortion experiences to contact us. Please phone 338-7027 in Iowa City and we will give you more details about the speak-out. 6 June 26, 1970 [image of an arm] Ain't I
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ABORTION How it happened, although not part of this story, is the story. I really should have known. "It can't happen to me" just isn't realistic. Neither was a relationship with a guy who felt his manhood threatened by birth control. Get that - manhood- not personhood. Through California's underground at that time you could get anything. One of the cruelest things available was a doctor in Berkeley, who would give shots (estrogen, I think) so that if your period was late it'd bring it on. But the story went that if you went soon enough, you could actually abort. He had quite a business going. Cost about $40, and hurt like hell. This was when my period was about 2 days late. After waiting a week or 10 days, and having one pregnancy prove o.k., though inconclusive, I went back to the doctor. This time it was conclusive. The next day, having heard that physical exertion can bring on an abortion, I washed, swam, and ran once around the track. The next day I started looking for an abortionist. The Bay area at this time had several prestigious doctors at prestigious hospitals under indictment for psychiatric abortions, so the searh wouldn't be easy. I contacted a campus minister whom I had gotten to know well, and he started phoning around. The search narrowed to a doctor in Tijuana, who everyone seemed to have heard of, including my family doctor, after we went through the bit about homes for unwed mother, etc. There apparently had been busts over the border, so it took several phone calls to really make connections. As an added precaution he spoke only Spanish. The price - $1000, plus a fancy hotel and transportation. It was finally reduced to $800, and after what's-his-name said he wasn't going, and I said I'd go alone if I had to, the campus minister and I made plans to go. We emptied my savings account and borrowed some from what's-his-name's roommate (the total extent of all support, moral and financial). The next morning we flew: S.F.-L.A., L. A. - San Diego. I though that I had had morning sickness pretty bad, but by the time we finally got off the plane in San Diego I was so nauseated I could hardly move. We finally get up to this big big hotel at the top of a hill (The Coronado?) It looked expensive. This is our "contact point." We find out what the rates are and check in at the cheap motel across the street. The campus minister keeps calling Tijuana. Not from the motel - it might be bugged. When he could get him, because I was under 21, I couldn't take the bus across. We finally are told (late the next day) to go to a certain room in the hotel and ask for what was obviously a fictitious name. I had used my real name. And he couldn't rent a cat because he had left his identification in his car at the SF airport. We went. By this time the whole thing had gotten to be something like you read in a spy thriller. A bad one. So we meet two couples. One was engaged, the other friends. We called and were told to drive to a certain spot, and we'd be told there where to go next. When we got there, we were told to drive to the High Life Palace. So we drive up and down this road for half an hour, looking for this place. We were also getting pretty panicky. Finally we see a place - the Jai Alai Palace. How could we have known? So we pull into their parking lot, and wait. We make contact, and are to follow this car. It pulls away with a squeal of its tires, and we almost lose it. We finally pull up at this building, and are told to be very quiet. We are - we're petrified. We are led into this room, where our money is taken. The doctor asks who wants to be first. she is given a robe and is taken into the next room. We can hear most of what's going on. she screamed, and the doctor and the nurse would say, "Hush, do you want them to come and find us and take you to jail?" It didn't stop her from screaming. After about 20 minutes she comes out and sits down and gags. I'm next. I found out why she screamed. They only have enough ether to keep you hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness. And it hurt. I have something to bite on, but it could only do so much. I did try not to scream. I tried to take more ether, but they wouldn't let me. The pain finally was undifferentiated, just in waves. And then it was over, and I too staggered out to the waiting room and gagged. At that point that humiliation was pretty insignificant. Then the other woman. Right after she was done, we got in the car, and tore off for the jai alai palace. Then we were on our own. They asked at the border what we'd been doing. So we gave the standard answer "Shopping." And where we were from. But we got through and headed for San Diego. By this time the pain was like period cramps. Just like before. That night I recounted in detail the whole procedure to the campus minister (only one of the men had been allowed to accompany us). It took 2 1/2 hours. Pretty detailed. We finally got back to S. F. and then drove home. And that's when the unexpected part happened. My cool and liberal friends just really had trouble accepting me having an abortion. I was really brave; they couldn't have done it. Again and again. I began to feel like some kind of freak - brave, but still a freak. The point was that I really wasn't brave, but that I had done what I felt I had to do. I had considered the alternatives - but to me there was no alternative. The other response was that girls who got pregnant were dumb. Yeah, thanks a lot. I suppose I had a mild trauma for awhile. I sort of withdrew for a couple of months. My roommates thought I should go to the counselling service. I didn't, and things got to be o.k. after a while. Looking back now, I just wish that I had really felt that I had the right to do as I did. I feel now that I did. Women do have the right to control their bodies. And we'll do it illegally if we have to. There is no reason for women not to talk to one another about abortions. We are kept apart, told that the woman who has one is different. Women really aren't. Once we accept the right to our own bodies, and thus the right of all women to their bodies, we have come one step closer to affirming our sisterhood. And one step closer to radical social change. FUND AND SPEAK OUT ABORTION COSTS- $1000 The Medical Issues cell has started an abortion fund to aid sisters obtaining an abortion. Please mail any money you can to: Abortion Fund 301 Jefferson Building Iowa City, Iowa 52240 The Medical Issues collective is planning to sponsor an abortion speak-out in the near future. We would like all women who would be interested in sharing their abortion experiences to contact us. Please phone 338-7027 in Iowa City and we will give you more details about the speak-out. 6 June 26, 1970 [image of an arm] Ain't I
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