This is one of the strangest, most schizophrenic abortion-related things I’ve seen in a long time, maybe ever.
Penelope Trunk, a successful career advice columnist/blogger, wrote a blog piece last summer called “What’s the Connection Between Abortion and Careers?” The title caught my eye and drew me in to what at first I thought would be just another “yeah, so what if I had an abortion?” kind of piece. I was wrong. Or maybe I should say I was half wrong.
I did not expect Trunk to say some of things she said in that article. After reading it, I was left scratching my head in wonderment that, on one hand, this obviously intelligent woman could be so honest and forthright in her admission of what abortion is and what it does — to the mother and the child — and still be four-square in favor of legal abortion.
Later, Ms. Trunk sent out a note on Twitter announcing that she was having a miscarriage. The Twittersphere and, soon afterward, the blogosphere, freaked out about that, with many people excoriating her for publicly discussing something so private.
Personally, I don’t really care about the propriety or lack of it in her Twitter message. When I watched this video, I was again nonplussed at how this woman is able (with a straight face that neither dissolves into a smirk or into sobs [either of those reactions would seem more natural, more human, if you ask me]) to so blandly admit that she was glad she had had a miscarriage, because it saved her from having to “wait in line to get an abortion.” And this, after she had just finished telling the goofy CNN talking head about how much she loved her two children and how sorrowful she was when she miscarried another pregnancy.
At one point, she intoned glassily that “Whether or not you believe women should have the right to abortion, they do in this country.” If the hapless host had been thinking clearly, he should have reminded her and the audience that, in 1860, a white man could just as blythely have said, “Whether or not you believe whites have the right to own black slaves, they do in this country.”
Or, “Whether or not you believe men should have the right to prevent women from voting, they do in this country” (prior to 1920), etc., etc.
That’s the point. Because enough Americans believed that white’s should not have the right to own other human beings as slaves is why we were able to abolish that terrible “legal right.” Similarly, though of far, far less a magnitude on the injustice scale, Because enough Americans came to believe that it was wrong to deny women the vote is the only reason why that unjust law was eradicated. (And that didn’t happen until 1920!)
Penelope Trunk’s attitude toward abortion is just . . . weird. It’s schizophrenic. I don’t understand it. I feel so very sorry for her.
I have had two abortions.
The first one was when I was twenty-seven. I was playing professional beach volleyball. I was playing volleyball eight hours a day and I spent two hours a day at the gym. I noticed that I was getting tired more easily, but I thought it meant I needed to train harder.
Then one weekend, a doctor friend on a visit saw me drop a plate one day, and a vase the next. I told her my hands just gave out because they were so tired.
She said I was anemic. Then she said, “Maybe you’re pregnant.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I have a regular period.”
It turns out, though, that you can have a regular period and still be pregnant.
And I was. Fourteen weeks.
My friend said, “Schedule the abortion now. You’re already late for it.”
I didn’t do anything. I was in shock. My boyfriend was in shock. Neither of us had ever had a pregnancy. I couldn’t believe the whole process actually worked, to be honest.
I told my mom I was pregnant. She said, “Get an abortion.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t really thinking I had any choices. I didn’t have a job that could support a child. And I wasn’t sure if I was planning to marry my boyfriend, although we were living together. I knew that I had big ideas for my life and I hadn’t figured things out yet.
My mom got militant. “You’ll destroy your career possibilities.”
She riffed on this theme for a week, calling me every night. Her passion is understandable. My mom took . . . (continue reading)