Later today, the Ohio House of Representatives Health Committee will be holding hearings on H.B. 228, a frightening piece of anti-abortion legislation that goes beyond South Dakota's recent ban. Beginning at 10 a.m., the public will be allowed to testify--and it looks like there's going to be lot of testifying on both sides. (Rumor has it that the Chairman of the committee is going to have overflow crowds in the Statehouse Atrium!)
If you'd like more information, check out NARAL Pro-Choice Ohio's anti-H.B. 228 website or Planned Parenthood.
I mentioned last week that I'm going to testify. I decided to offer my perspective as a father of an Ohio girl. Here's what I'll be saying:
Statement by J.B. Lawton III in Opposition to H.B. 228
Ohio House Health Committee
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Mr. Chairman and Members of the Committee, my name is J.B. Lawton. I am here as a private citizen to oppose H.B. 228.
This bill is unconstitutional. The Legislative Service Commission has told you that it violates a woman's right of personal privacy, and also violates a citizen's "right to travel" by making it illegal to help a woman leave Ohio for an abortion.
The bill's supporters know it's unconstitutional. They're counting on it, hoping it'll be the mechanism to overturn Roe v. Wade and recriminalize abortions.
Of course, that's going to take awhile. The judicial process can be slow. But slow or not, if this bill becomes law and is upheld by the Supreme Court, it will change the lives of millions of women in the future. Some of whom have no clue in the present. They don't know what's going on in this hearing today. They have no idea that their personal choices and medical options could disappear with the stroke of a Governor's pen.
And who are these folks? Are they stupid? Apathetic? Ignorant?
No. They're girls. Little girls like my daughter Maura. She's too busy being a 6-year-old to care about how laws can affect her medical and sexual future. And you know what? I hope she can go right on living her own life in such blissful ignorance. That's why I'm here today. So that she doesn't have to be here herself years from now, asking a future Health Committee to give her back the rights she had once.
Obviously, I hope that Maura never has to face personally the issue of abortion. Heck, I'm terrified at the thought that she's going to be a teenager some day, let alone have sex. But what really terrifies me is the possibility of a future where Maura comes to me because she needs help and I can't give it.
Here's my nightmare: What if my little girl becomes pregnant someday? And what if--after a lot of thought, soul-searching, and consultation with her husband, her minister her doctor, her mother, me--she decides she can't go through with the pregnancy? Maybe she's not ready. Maybe her health is going to be at risk. Maybe--God forbid--she was raped. Whatever the reasons, she's made this decision and come to me for help. What am I going to say to her?
Will I say: "It doesn't matter what you think, Maura. Lawmakers decided years ago that you don't have the right to control what happens to your own body."
Is that what I'm going to say? I hope I won't have to. I also hope I'll never have to reassure her: "Maura, of course, I'd risk going to jail for 15 years so that you can go somewhere out of state."
But at least I know one thing I'll be able to say: "Yes, Maura, I did everything I could to stop this from happening. I spoke out. I lobbied. I testified. And when--despite massive public opposition--they still passed this abortion ban, I did what South Dakotans did. I helped with the petition drive to repeal this law, and I campaigned against the legislators who made it happen."
That's what I'll tell my daughter if and when I need to. But Mr. Chairman and Committee Members, I pray that you do the right thing and make this entire conversation an unnecessary thought experiment.