A (Wake-Up) Call to Action: Centering Reproductive Justice within the Anti-Violence Movement
The Dire State of Affairs
As you are likely aware, Texas recently passed Senate Bill 8, effectively banning abortions at approximately 6 weeks and making no exceptions for rape, sexual abuse, incest, and fetal anomaly diagnoses. This new law also places a “bounty” on those who violate it, allowing anyone to sue those believed to provide abortions past 6 weeks for $10,000 in damages.
Additionally, a 2018 law passed by Mississippi, banning abortion after 15 weeks, is set for oral arguments before the Supreme Court on December 1. As some experts point out and as the obvious signs indicate, these blatant legal challenges to Roe v. Wade and the Supreme Court’s decision not to stop the new highly restrictive law in Texas signal a possible reversal of position on abortion at the federal level. In light of these developments, I pose the question to those working to eliminate interpersonal violence, what will you say and, better yet, what will you do about it?
Framing the History of Anti-Violence Activism
The history of anti-violence activism in our country is one enmeshed with the fight for liberation from oppression broadly. In fact, many groups at the forefront of combatting interpersonal violence, like the YWCA, have a rich history of championing other issues related to women’s empowerment and civil rights at large. The fight to eradicate domestic violence and sexual assault has been intrinsically linked to the fight for gender equality, racial equality, reproductive freedom, economic freedom, and even world peace.
Thanks to the tireless efforts of second-wave feminist activists, by the early 1980s, our country had over 700 operational domestic violence shelters serving thousands of victims. Feminist activism during this era was also focused on achieving reproductive justice, including not just access to abortion, but also access to oral contraception and nationwide quality childcare. Severing the ties between anti-violence activism and the fight for reproductive justice, claiming they are unique and unrelated issues, does a terrible disservice to the decades of work resulting in increased equality and freedom for all in our society. Doing so also takes advantage of the freedoms granted to you by this activism that you enjoy while discarding the freedoms you don’t want other people to have.
Dismantling the Discourse
I could use this piece to make commonly argued points to try to convince those against the concept of choice of the constitutionality of reproductive freedom. I could remind those who wouldn’t choose abortion for themselves that someone exercising their own rights by choosing to have an abortion does not infringe on their rights to not have one. I could highlight those from religious backgrounds who support reproductive choice. I could also point out the fallacies and contradictions in using the term “pro-life” to describe those who oppose abortion. But these lines of thinking have proven practically useless in our country’s polarized discourse about the topic.
Arguments against abortion are often veiled as an attempt to secure collective “morality.” But at the heart of these positions are a number of long-standing oppressions against particularly marginalized people. Regardless of the intent of individuals, opposing access to abortion is rooted in historical sexism, classism, racism, and ableism. The consequences of outlawing abortion will be severe and will disproportionately affect people marginalized by their class, race, and disability.
In this moment, I’m reminded of Audre Lorde’s words, “For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us to temporarily beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change.” Engaging in the popular forms of discourse on this issue likely won’t lead to changed hearts and minds and will only signal to anti-choice proponents that their position has equal footing to the position of ensuring fundamental human rights. We have to do more than beat people at their own rhetorical game. This issue involves real people and real lives, so we must find a way to dismantle the presence in this nation that seeks to suppress the inherent freedom of its own people.
The Centrality of Choice in Trauma Recovery
For those who have experienced assault or exploitation, the very nature of their trauma removed their ability to choose for themselves and to maintain physical and sexual autonomy over what happened to their own bodies. Removing their choice related to their reproduction, therefore, is inherently re-traumatizing by nature and could result in overlapping and complex trauma. Moreover, survivors of interpersonal violence often already feel unwelcomed and disposable. The trauma they survived is often diminished and dismissed by those designed to help or serve them. The new law in Texas communicates to survivors that their experience doesn’t matter. It also takes it a step further by seeking to penalize survivors and those that attempt to assist them in obtaining abortion services. What kind of message does this send to survivors who may already be wondering if anyone cares about what happened to them?
Survivors are speaking out in opposition of the extremely restrictive law in Texas, including Lavinia Masters, a survivor of sexual assault. Masters highlights the frustration many are feeling, saying, “We already feel like we’re rendered powerless by the sexual assault. And now here you come, taking more power, taking our options away.” Anti-abortion lawmakers are aware of the connection between surviving violence and accessing reproductive care and even explicitly draw upon it, as is the case with the newly-introduced Senate Bill 34 in Texas. This new bill, if passed, would create additional barriers for those seeking abortions by first mandating an offer of “resource access assistance” from “care agents” who would also screen those seeking abortions for indicators of domestic violence and human trafficking. These types of laws are intended to create a misdirection, a false signal that survivors will be considered, but only within the context of their efforts to still restrict and circumvent their access to the care they want and need.
If you are a person working in the anti-violence movement – whether related to domestic violence, sexual assault, child abuse, or human trafficking – and you personally identify as anti-choice, it is time for you to finally grapple with the contradiction of your position. Would you want other services, including other types of medical care, to be withheld from those you or your programs serve? If you are acknowledging and responding to the complex needs of survivors of violence, including complex PTSD, how is this type of medical care any different from others that are integral to their journey through healing? Imposing one’s personal or religious beliefs onto survivors is deeply problematic, and the anti-violence movement is largely encouraging religious equity and freedom in programming and services across the country. The issue of abortion, and in connecting all survivors to the types of reproductive services they desire, should be no different.
Forsaking the Silence
A person does not need to survive a violent crime to be deemed worthy of accessing their inherent rights. As we often hear, other anti-abortion laws that increase access restrictions may have “exceptions” in cases involving rape or incest. The circumstances of survivors should not be seen as exceptions; the scourge of violence and exploitation is far too commonplace in both our country and our world. Moreover, there shouldn’t be different tiers or groups of people who are able to access something while others cannot. This concept implies that some people are more deserving of choice and that those who have experienced violence have somehow earned access to this constitutional right.
Many organizations and programs serving survivors in Texas rely heavily on funding from the state’s lawmakers and elected officials, including those who supported and passed bills like SB 8. This crucial funding often keeps the doors open for programs, many of which are already under-funded and stretched thin. This reliance fosters a culture of silence on the issue from some in this field, in an attempt to secure and keep their state funding. I’m reminded of Lorde's analogy of the master’s tools, and can’t help but wonder if there is another avenue for anti-violence programs to secure sustainability outside of the confines of the master’s house. I suggest, as a movement, we revisit our radical feminist roots by organizing and galvanizing support, including monetary, across issues. A truly intersectional, trauma-informed, and multi-issue movement would prove too powerful to ignore.
As we see an increase in proposed and passed legislation across this country specifically aimed to infringe upon a person’s right to abortion and reproductive freedom, we must be vocal and present in this dialogue in supporting choice as a fundamental right for survivors and for everyone, regardless of the perceived cost. The consequences of our complicity are far too great, and those who are marginalized and oppressed will feel the weight of our silence most acutely. After all, who better understands the damaging ramifications of enduring a culture of silence and complicity than those of us involved in the seemingly endless battle to eradicate violence?
