Cross-posted at Liberal South and My Left Wing
How many times have you heard people say that their vote doesn't matter? How many times have you begged a family member to call a representative on a piece of important legislation, and had them blow you off? Have you forwarded petitions to friends on your contact list, knowing full well that most of your friends won't even open the email, much less sign it and send it on?
I have.
Apathy is such a difficult thing to face, both within ourselves and in others around us. It is so easy, now, to just give up, to give up. So many people see what is going on with our government and feel so disenfranchised, it is hard to convince them that they can, in fact, have an impact. I know I often feel that way. It seems like the more I pay attention, the more screwed up everything seems - the more closely I follow politics, the angrier I get. What can I do, after all? I'm just one person.
Yesterday, I found out.
On May 17 at nine in the morning, the Louisiana House committee on Criminal Justice met to vote on SB33, a bill introduced by Senator Nevers (D - Bogalusa). The bill was intended as a "trigger law" - it would have banned all abortions in the state, effective immediately upon the overturning of Roe. It contained a single exception, to protect the life of the mother. Needless to say, the few pro-choice residents of the South (myself included) were not exactly thrilled about this bill.
I found out about Senator Nevers' bill shortly after the Senate passed it, and have since been working on trying to stop it, or at least make it more palatable. I attempted to contact all of the organizations and clinics in the state who might be interested, and speak with them about strategies for fighting SB33. Unfortunately, because I live out of state and am in the final stages of building my house, my organizational capabilities were seriously hampered. I talked to a few people individually, but was never able to get a group together, as I would have liked to do.
Still, I was prepared. My friends Beckables and Nin came with me up to the capitol on Wednesday morning, and we sat through an hour of proponent testimony. Well, I say we sat through it. Actually, I stepped outside more than once, white-lipped and furious, to chain-smoke. The anti-choice people tend to cherry pick their statistics, when they don't straight up falsify them, and they love to pull out the emotional melodrama. I sympathize with some of them; I think they really do believe what they are doing is right, but the lack of sound logic just enrages me. I know I need to listen to as much of their argument as possible, but when they begin lying about things (like the link between abortion and breast cancer) that have long been know to be untrue, I just can't handle it.
When our turn came, things got little better. Some of the members of the committee seemed to be rather hostile toward certain of our speakers, which made me feel rather bad for them. I must admit, though, the arguments put forth by a couple of those speakers were very, very weak. Instead of focusing on the issue at hand, the testimony branched of into a discussion on sex education - pertinent, I admit, but not necessarily in that particular setting. We had a couple of doctors (one a pediatrician) speak of the effects of rape and incest, and the necessity of abortion as an option in those cases. Clergy came out on our side... well, sort of. A UU minister spoke to the committee in opposition to the bill - rather, in general opposition to abortion, but still. Representative Monica Walker (D - Marksville) spoke on our behalf as well, threatening to propose an amendment to require castration of rapists if the bill made it to the House floor without a rape exception.
The most impressive testimony came from a young mother from Kenner, a teacher who spoke eloquently of why she was opposed to the lack of exceptions to the bill. She had had an abortion while still in high school, and then subsequently went to college on a scholarship, graduated in elementary education, and is now married and raising two children. The part of her statement that really resonated, however, and had the entire room in tears, was when she spoke of her brutal rape at age thirteen. She was kidnapped and raped at gunpoint, and then shot in the head. Without raising her voice, and with steel in her eye, this woman defied the representatives on the committee to force a woman, any woman, their daughters or wives or nieces or neighbors, to endure for nine months the burden of a child conceived of such an experience.
When she sat down, I hugged her, and said, "I don't know you, but I love you." I do. What an awesome woman.
Unfortunately, the committee chose not to amend the bill to include an exception for rape. How they could listen to her words and not do this escapes me. They chose instead to debate it on the floor. I am choosing to believe that this is simply a wise strategic move on the part of men who know that there is no way the bill will pass the house without exceptions for rape and incest. Hopefully Louisiana is not as ignorant as the stereotype would indicate.
I spoke on my own behalf, without giving any credentials or affiliation, as I am utterly lacking either. I did invoke my sisters and cousins, as they wanted to attend but were still in school (they don't get out 'til Friday). I didn't give any statistics - I don't know any. I simply told my story. I was raped in college - I don't remember it, thank god. I didn't get pregnant. But I'm missing more than 72 hours during the incident, and I don't know whether I was hit over the head or drugged. At any rate, I only regained consciousnous after three days - plan B wouldn't have worked for me if I had been impregnated on the first day.
Almost three years later, I had an abortion on my doctor's advice. After getting second and third opinions, I was convinced that if I carried a child to term I would be permanently disabled. There was a very good chance that I would be on dialysis for the rest of my life, and the most pessimistic doctor recommended immediate bed rest (I was at eight weeks!). I was devastated, but I pride myself on my critical thinking skills, and so I did the only logical thing I could do in the circumstances - I terminated the pregnancy. I would do it again in the same situation. I told the committee that, and said that while I sympathized with the women who question themselves after the fact, and agonize that they made the wrong choice, I cannot agree with them. I have made my decision - it was my suffering to choose. For me to deny another woman that choice, even if I feel her reasons are frivolous, would be rank hypocrisy.
I will not be a hypocrite.
At least the committee listened to something. By the time SB33 was voted on, it had been amended. Representative Charles Dewitt (D - Alexandria) proposed a broad amendment to preserve the health of the mother - Nevers and Rep. Daniel Martiny (R - Metairie) argued that the wording of that was too vague, and could be interpreted to allow for abortion under almost any circumstances, (Good for you, Dewitt. It's only a shame they aren't quite as thick as all that). Rep. Don Cazayoux (D - New Roads) suggested wording from the legal definition of "bodily injury", so that was looked up and found to be more acceptable. The bill now includes wording to the effect that the physician can terminate the pregnancy to protect against the "permanent impairment of an organ or organs", IIRC.
Okay, it isn't great. But it is better. While there are still no exceptions for rape or incest, there is a (admittedly very lame) health exception. The bill moves to the House floor next week, and I have to say, Rep. Walker's castration amendment ought to be interesting, if nothing else. I'm not going to be able to make it there to see how the House handles it, but I feel much better about it now. Some of those guys really are on our side. Rep. Roy Burrell, in particular, impressed the hell out of me. He's a Dem from Shreveport, and he's obviously one of the good ones, because when he spoke to Nevers, and when I spoke to him later, he emphasized the social aspect of the abortion debate. The man knows what causes it, and he knows the real way to stop abortion is through education and social justice.
Somebody needs to send that man a cake or something. Maybe some flowers. Dewitt too, and Walker. See, people, I told you there are sane people in the South.
Yesterday evening when I was driving Beckables home, she made me tear up by saying how much I had impressed her. At first I was a bit embarrassed, but then I realized that it was probably the first time she had seen anyone she knew have an effect on politics, or realized that she could. Hell, it was the first time I've ever seen anyone I know actually affect government in a noticeable way (other than by being a general pain-in-the-ass, I mean), let alone myself. It's a kind of neat feeling, in these days of Blackwell and Diebold and gerrymandering, to feel as if you have a say in what goes on. How can we convince people that they make an impression? If people thought their representatives would listen to them, would they go to them and tell them their concerns? If you thought your story might have an impact, do you think you could recount it to your elected officials?
I have a voice. Yesterday, my voice was heard.