It was on this weekend in 1990 when my best friend and I joined with a few hundred other supporters of abortions rights to face down the anti-abortion crazies during their annual assault on D.C. At the time both of us was living near D.C., me in Warrenton, Va. and Audrey half hour further away in the Blue Ridge foothills. Both of us had long contributed to NOW, NARAL and Planned Parenthood so when the call came fo volunteers that cold winter weekend we didn't hesitate to answer.
So, on Friday night we drove into D.C. for a training session led by Patricia Ireland, president of NOW. Patricia explained all that might happen and how we were to protect ourselves should any violence erupt. Saturday morning we were to be in place by 5 a.m. at a clinic in Arlington where protest was expected to take place and where we were to keep the way clear for patients and escort them into the clinic.
We drove back to my house in Warrenton, talked for hours while sipping wine, then got a couple of hours sleep and by 3:30, bundled in layers of our warmest clothes, we were off on route 66, headed for the showdown that didn't materialize. From 5 til 8:30 we stood shivering outside the clinic until we were told the protest leaders had outfoxed us by announcing the Arlington location as the target while in fact the real battleground was at a clinic in southeast D.C. At that point, everybody piled into cars and headed across the Potomac, late but determined that clinic would not be shut down.
When we arrived the first thing we saw was a stage set up in front of the clinic and about a thousand anti-abortion protesters cheering on the men in charge, prancing and preaching through loud speakers. Yes, men - this was before they wised up and added women to front for them.
We drove around to the large parking lot in back of the clinic, parked, got out and were directed to link arms and surround a car sitting in the middle of the lot. Others were directd to protect the glass doors at the clinic entrance. The clinic doctor, a nurse and a patient were in the car waiting until it was safe to enter the building. But at this point protesters were pushing the door guardians and other protesters were headed towards the car.
I don't remember how long we ringed that car. But I do remember seeing a woman appproach, a woman with a rosary wrapped around her hand, seemingly in a religious thrall, quietly mumbling what sounded like a prayer. Others came and grabbed and pulled our arms trying to break through. And then, without warning, that rosary wrapped hand made a fist and it flew at my friend, Audrey, and hit her in the stomach. Audrey was a small but strong woman , still working and still working out at 67, but the blow knocked the wind out of her and left her unsteady. Several people came to her aid and it was suggested we move away and let others take our place.
Just as we settled into my car for respite, mounted police arrived and tried to subdue the crowd as other police started arresting demonstrators. Simultaneously, at the clinic door, a large group of demonstrators had pushed and pushed so powerfully, they drove the line of defenders through the glass doors. EMTs treated several for cuts but I don't remember anyone taken to a hospital.
And through it all, all the crazy, the loudspeakers carried the voices of those men on that stage making grand statements about protecting "babies" from the evil women trying to use the services of the evil doctors in that clinic, ranting and raving and promising to shut down every "abortion factory" in America. It goes without saying, their recitations and protestations were laced with God, Jesus, the holy spirit, and other religious references.
We were quiet on the drive home. Unusual for both of us. Frankly, I was quiet because I was furious. Over coffee later, Audrey said "I'll never do this again. I don't want to see these people this close. I can't abide crazy". So, she never did it again, nor did I. But we and our grown children all joined together to participate in the "March for Women's Lives" in 92. We were with our people, the sane people, about half a million of them. It was a great day on that parade route past the White House, shouting to George H.W. Bush, "We'll Remember in November". And we did remember and we elected Bill Clinton, who, by the way, joined with the women at the head of the line that day.
Audrey would be 88 today, 13 years older than me. She died six years ago. Our last conversations didn't dwell on her dying. Til the end she wanted to talk politics, women's rights, civil rights, the evil that was George Bush's war and how we had to defeat Republicans. God, I miss that woman. She was the sister I never had and at times the mother I needed. She was wise, ahead of her time, and brave.