how your life would(n't) have changed

a writing exercise for those who can impregnate another person

Dear men, and those in the U.S. who can get someone pregnant:

This one is for you. If you can get pregnant, you’re welcome to read this too, but honestly we’ve been through enough, so skip if you need.

I’m trying to distill the primal scream-crying I’ve been doing the past 24 hours into words, but honestly, it is impossible. And I’m merely one person this effects, one white woman who lives in a supposed sanctuary state. I have some means and a support system if I need an abortion and/or reproductive care unlike the millions of marginalized folks in what I now call the “trigger states.”

So this is where you come in.

I need you to step up. We need you to step up.

Honestly, those of us who can get pregnant have needed you to step up for a long time. And some of you have done it. Not many. But some have.

But now, you need to start doing some of this work that I, and the generations of women who came before me, have BEEN doing. I may not look scared or tired, but I am. Many of us who have the capacity to get pregnant may not look scared or tired, but we are in agony, some of us in secret, others of us less so. So many of us have told stories, nightmares about accessing abortion, or how an abortion saved our lives, or how being forced to have a child has traumatized and ruined our lives.

Now it is your turn.

You have to come to terms with the fact that the disappearance of Roe v. Wade will effect you too. Profoundly. And you need to learn how to tell the story of what abortion has afforded you in the past, or could have afforded you.

You also have to start sharing that with more honesty and candor than you have before. I don’t expect you to get there overnight. Work and writing like this has been done in anti-racist circles for years now (and to give credit where it is due: this idea of utilizing writing/journaling to be able to sit with difficult truths surrounding privilege springs from black anti-racist educators and activist leaders like Layla F. Saad and others) and it takes a lot of time.

But I have made a writing exercise for those who really do want to be allies for those who can become pregnant, who want to do the work, who want to hold themselves to account and do better in supporting those who choose abortion for themselves.

If you are an adult man or someone who can get another person pregnant, here is my challenge to you this weekend. It is a writing exercise (because that’s what I do). Give yourself ample time—I’d argue you need at least 30 minutes to do this justice, if not an hour.

You’ll see two versions of this prompt below, so pick that one that fits closest to your own experience:

**

If you have ever knowingly gotten a partner pregnant, and you know they had an abortion:

I want you to get a journal and I want you to write about it.

PAPER AND PEN ONLY, NOTHING WITH A DIGITAL FOOTPRINT. DO NOT USE ANY CURRENT OR FORMER PARTNER’S NAME ANYWHERE, OR AT THE VERY LEAST USE A PSEUDONYM FOR THEM. DO NOT USE IDENTIFYING LANGUAGE FOR THAT PERSON.

I want you to write about how you felt, how that person felt, and your involvement. How did you feel when you heard the news? Were you involved in the decision-making? Did you pay for it, or half of it? Did you go with her? Why or why not?

Then write about the experience itself if you were there, or if you weren’t, what it was like in the aftermath of this event. Write this in scene, meaning as if it is currently happening (in present tense). As I tell my nonfiction writing students, give us the sensual detail: sight, sound, smell, taste, feel. Really dive into it.

When you feel like you’ve gone too far or you’re uncomfortable, good. If you’re embarrassed my your actions, or ashamed, or even just ambivalent, be honest. You’re not here to make yourself look good or justify actions or emotions. You’re getting to the real meat of the experience. So keep digging.

Then, I want you to write on a separate page what your life would have looked like if that partner had not had an abortion. Would you have had to drop out of school? Would you have had to quit a job, or gotten a second or third job? What opportunities would you have had to turn down or perhaps not had at all? Would your family support you? Would your friends? Would you stay with the person you impregnated? How would this have effected your salary? Again, you’re not here to make yourself look like a hero. Be raw and honest even if it’s painful to admit.

BUT if you find that very little in your life would have changed, meditate on that. Why is that? What affords you that privilege? Do you think your partner would have been in a similar position? Why or why not?

Then, find an abortion fund in a state where abortion is, or soon will be, outlawed. Make a sizable anonymous donation.

**

If you have never gotten a partner pregnant (that you know of):

I want you to get a journal and I want you to write about it.

PAPER AND PEN ONLY, NOTHING WITH A DIGITAL FOOTPRINT. DO NOT USE ANY CURRENT OR FORMER PARTNER’S NAME ANYWHERE, OR AT THE VERY LEAST USE A PSEUDONYM FOR THEM. DO NOT USE IDENTIFYING LANGUAGE FOR THAT PERSON.

Take a blank page in said journal and divide it in half.

I want you to think about every opportunity—personal, professional, academic, familial, social, cultural, financial—that you have had since you became sexually active. List as many of them as you can in the lefthand column. Nothing is too small or too big. If it comes into your mind write it down.

Then, on the righthand side, write whether or not you think you could have taken advantage of that opportunity if your partner was forced to have your child.

After you do this, take another page in your journal and reflect on the results of that chart you created. If you would have lost many opportunities: how many more do you think your partner would have lost? If you would not have lost many opportunities, or any opportunities at all, write about why you think that is and if the same could be said for your partner. Be honest. If you’re uncomfortable doing this, you’re doing it right. Push yourself.

The final part of this writing exercise: imagine you have been denied a life-saving medical procedure, say surgery, because it has been deemed illegal and immoral by folks who do not hold your values or beliefs. Write a letter to your doctor explaining why you need this surgery, why they need to break the law for you, and why it is important that you survive. If this is hard for you, good. It should be.

Then, find an abortion fund in a state where abortion is, or soon will be, outlawed. Make a sizable anonymous donation.

**

Likely you will not enjoy this exercise. You aren’t meant to. In fact, more than likely the whole thing will scare you, or make you anxious, or likely just depressed.

That’s the point. That’s the whole point. It hurts because you are putting yourself as close as you can to the fear and terror that those who can pregnant feel right now. Sit in those feelings. Masking them, or looking for positives, or distracting yourself negates the point.

If you want to do the work to be a supporter and ally, you need to get used to sitting with difficult emotions without asking those who are effected most to make you feel better. That’s how you become more aware of your privilege and more aware of the stakes of your actions/inactions/words/refusal to speak.

Don’t send the results of this writing exercise to women in your life, or to partners/ex-partners. This is private. No one can work through these feelings but you. Bring them to other trusted male friends who are confused about what to do, or bring them to your therapist.

You won’t get comfortable talking about this overnight. These writing exercises aren’t meant for that. They are meant to help you reflect so that when you do speak up, you’re maybe a shred more self-aware of why what you say, and how you say it, matters.

I wish you the strength to be honest, candid, and vulnerable in this writing exercise.

With love and righteous anger, xoxo,

Sarah