I attended a Roe v. Wade anniversary dinner last night where five speakers acting as “The Voice of Reproductive Choice” shared their stories about the importance of reproductive freedom in their lives.  There was an OBGYN who talked about not being able to find a nurse to perform a first trimester abortion in a hospital setting because of opt-out conscience clauses; a Latina mother with five children who works with Planned Parenthood in her community so that her children will have information about sex, STI’s, and reproduction that she never received; a gay father who affirmed that it “took a village to make his child” and praised the people and legal process that allowed him to make that choice; and a woman who spoke about her pre-Roe abortion. She was 16, and her parents paid a man, recommended by the family doctor, to perform the procedure.  After the procedure, the man requested that she kiss him to show her appreciation.  She said she thought she would have to carry the shame of that day to her grave. But then Roe v. Wade happened, and she could talk about her abortion without feeling ashamed all through the 80s and 90s. She referred to those years as “good times.”  I was shocked that anyone, ever, felt comfortable openly talking about her abortion, but then I realized that I came to political and sexual maturity during the eight years of the Bush administration, when the country saw reproductive and sexual freedom attacked and undermined on every front.  I never considered that these repressive policies might also have repressed the voices of those who exercised what little reproductive freedom they had left.

I am one of those repressed voices.  I’m white, and I grew up in an upper-middle class, Midwestern, Christian home where my very loving and supportive family never talked about sex.  My Church and my community taught me that sex occurred within marriage, and my mother communicated that she hoped I would act on those values.  I didn’t.

I had sex. I got pregnant. Not the first time. I used condoms and the pill with my partners.  I can’t pinpoint the exact experience out of which the pregnancy arose.  There was a broken condom, and I didn’t know that I could get EC at my college’s health center, and I couldn’t find anyone to drive me to Planned Parenthood, so I didn’t get plan B until the end of the 72 hour window.  A couple days later, my boyfriend removed the condom before ejaculating.  I don’t remember how or whether we responded to that situation. (more…)

The beginning of the new year is a time for reflection, optimism, and goal-setting. In this spirit, Harvard Law Students for Reproductive Justice presents its New Year’s resolutions, and we encourage your chapter to create its own.

For this semester:

1. Meet with administrators from Harvard’s health service to see if we can find out the motivations behind the opt-out policy.

 — Harvard allows anti-choice students to receive a refund of the portion of their health insurance fee which funds abortion.  This “refund” has amounted to roughly $1 per student, and there are student organizations which hold drives to encourage people to opt-out.  In the past, HLSRJ has held response drives, collecting $1 from pro-choice students and donating the proceeds to worthy organizations.  This year, we split our donation between Planned Parenthood and a local abortion fund.  However, several of our board members this year would like to find out why Harvard allows students to opt-out, and how exactly the process works, in hopes of creating awareness and possibly getting this policy changed.

2. Host a State of the Uterus event. (more…)