Earlier this year, Sister Margaret McBride, a nun and hospital administrator in Phoenix, Arizona, was excommunicated for allowing an abortion to be performed at St. Joseph’s Hospital and Medical Center, a Catholic hospital. Now, St. Joseph’s has been stripped of its Catholic status.
The patient, a mother of four in her late 20s, was eleven weeks pregnant when she was admitted to St. Joseph’s. She was suffering from severe pulmonary hypertension, and her doctors feared that, if the woman continued with the pregnancy, the illness could be fatal. The woman agreed to the abortion, and Sister McBride, a member of the hospital’s ethics board, approved the procedure.
In a statement defending the Church’s actions, Bishop Thomas Olmsted, of Phoenix’s Roman Catholic Diocese, alluded to other “violations” that have occurred at other hospitals run by Catholic Healthcare West, which owns St. Joseph’s. In particular, Olmsted mentioned hospitals which provided contraception, performed sterilizations, and did abortions when the pregnancy resulted from rape or incest, or due to the physical or mental health of the woman.
The ACLU has asked federal health officials to ensure that pregnant women can receive emergency reproductive care at Catholic hospitals. They are not the only organization to express concern over this issue; as secular-religious hospital mergers have become more prevalent, reproductive rights advocates have become increasingly concerned that patients at these hospitals may not have access to the full range of health care they deserve. MergerWatch has a wealth of information about the threats that women and healthcare providers face in light of these mergers, and is a great resource to learn more about the issue.
As for St. Joseph’s, they have handled these most recent actions with grace and determination. As their hospital president, Linda Hunt, said in a statement after her hospital lost its status, “[I]f we are presented with a situation in which a pregnancy threatens a woman's life, our first priority is to save both patients … If that is not possible, we will always save the life we can save, and that is what we did in this case. We continue to stand by that decision. . . . Morally, ethically, and legally we simply cannot stand by and let someone die whose life we might be able to save.”
Monday, December 27, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The “Right” Situation
When I worked in direct service, it wasn’t uncommon to hear from a patient, “I don’t believe in abortion, but this is different.” There would be slight variations between disclaimers, of course, but the basic idea never changed: that this patient had no choice, that she wasn’t the same as the other women who got abortions, that abortion was okay in this one very specific circumstance.
I can’t say that I fully understand this urge to issue a disclaimer, because I’ve never been in that situation. But I know all too well the urge to justify a decision you know you have to make but are uncomfortable with nonetheless; an option you never imagined you would choose, until something happened and you realized how much more complicated the issue actually was.
What I don’t understand, however, is when pro-choice activists use a similar kind of justification to decide what the “right” reasons for having an abortion are. I’ve noticed this more in individuals that work for established organizations than those who are engaged in newer, less traditional forms of activism; regardless, I hesitate to make any sweeping generalizations about what might motivate this behavior. What I do know is that it’s incredibly disturbing to discuss different women’s experiences and be told that a woman who has had multiple abortions, for example, is not as sympathetic a figure as a woman who’s had one. The context for these conversations was generally in discussing how to broaden public acceptance and understanding of abortion – how to best illustrate the many reasons teenage girls and women seek abortion care. Certain situations, it seems, were too nuanced for the general public to understand.
The problem is, that kind of thinking just perpetuates the idea that certain situations are too hard to understand. Assuming that some situations are more palatable than others places abortion in a hierarchy of sorts, assigning more value to the seemingly clear-cut stories – the college student who’s only had sex once, the wife with two children whose husband just lost his job, the woman who became pregnant as the result of rape – and less to those circumstances that are more complex but also likely more common: the married woman who isn’t ready for a child, the woman who’s had two previous abortions, the pregnant teenager whose parents will kick her out if she continues the pregnancy. For some pro-choicers, this second set of hypothetical scenarios runs the risk of inviting too much judgment, both from antis and that oft-mentioned “general public.” Better to stick with the easy-to-understand reasons; after all, if the goal is to increase support, why not focus on situations where the majority will support the choice?
Maybe these are unique cases; maybe I’ve just had the frustrating luck to encounter unnaturally tentative activists (a type that would seem, at first glance, to be any oxymoron). I certainly hope so, because if those in the role of advocates are afraid to embrace and defend every woman’s right to abortion, free of disclaimer or justification, then it’s hard to see how real progress can be achieved.
I can’t say that I fully understand this urge to issue a disclaimer, because I’ve never been in that situation. But I know all too well the urge to justify a decision you know you have to make but are uncomfortable with nonetheless; an option you never imagined you would choose, until something happened and you realized how much more complicated the issue actually was.
What I don’t understand, however, is when pro-choice activists use a similar kind of justification to decide what the “right” reasons for having an abortion are. I’ve noticed this more in individuals that work for established organizations than those who are engaged in newer, less traditional forms of activism; regardless, I hesitate to make any sweeping generalizations about what might motivate this behavior. What I do know is that it’s incredibly disturbing to discuss different women’s experiences and be told that a woman who has had multiple abortions, for example, is not as sympathetic a figure as a woman who’s had one. The context for these conversations was generally in discussing how to broaden public acceptance and understanding of abortion – how to best illustrate the many reasons teenage girls and women seek abortion care. Certain situations, it seems, were too nuanced for the general public to understand.
The problem is, that kind of thinking just perpetuates the idea that certain situations are too hard to understand. Assuming that some situations are more palatable than others places abortion in a hierarchy of sorts, assigning more value to the seemingly clear-cut stories – the college student who’s only had sex once, the wife with two children whose husband just lost his job, the woman who became pregnant as the result of rape – and less to those circumstances that are more complex but also likely more common: the married woman who isn’t ready for a child, the woman who’s had two previous abortions, the pregnant teenager whose parents will kick her out if she continues the pregnancy. For some pro-choicers, this second set of hypothetical scenarios runs the risk of inviting too much judgment, both from antis and that oft-mentioned “general public.” Better to stick with the easy-to-understand reasons; after all, if the goal is to increase support, why not focus on situations where the majority will support the choice?
Maybe these are unique cases; maybe I’ve just had the frustrating luck to encounter unnaturally tentative activists (a type that would seem, at first glance, to be any oxymoron). I certainly hope so, because if those in the role of advocates are afraid to embrace and defend every woman’s right to abortion, free of disclaimer or justification, then it’s hard to see how real progress can be achieved.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Can There Be Dialogue Between Pro-Choicers and Antis? Should There Be?
Earlier this week, RH Reality Check published an article by Francis Kissling about the idea of dialogue between the pro-choice and anti-choice communities. This article was a response to one published last week by Amanda Marcotte, in which Marcotte stated that she did not believe the dialogue with anti-choicers was ever useful because “it’s impossible to have a dialogue with someone who refuses to speak honestly about their positions.”
Both Kissling and Marcotte made reference to a conference that Kissling helped organize earlier this fall. The event, held at Princeton University, was to facilitate dialogue between the anti-choice and pro-choice communities. Whether or not the conference met its goals is an open question; at the very least, it led William Saletan, a columnist for Slate, to propose a rather provocative “compromise.”
Kissling makes as strong a case in favor of dialogue as Marcotte makes against it, but I’m more inclined to agree with Kissling's interpretation – not because I agree with everything she says, but because I think it’s time for a new approach to protecting the right to choose. Over the past three decades, the pro-choice side has won many important victories, but in too many parts of this country, abortion is legal in name only and barely accessible; the Hyde Amendment is going nowhere; and the very word “abortion” is so stigmatized. Maybe actually talking to those who disagree with us about why they feel the way they do, and looking for that common ground, isn’t the worst approach to try.
Of course, I think discussing a woman’s right to choose with Randall Terry, or any other extremist, would be a colossal waste of time. But there are a lot of people in the anti-choice community who are a lot more moderate, and with whom I think that honest communication would be useful. And here I have to take issue with Marcotte's assertion that no dialogue with someone that holds a different position can be honest. There's nothing dishonest about saying we disagree, but we can still talk. When I speak with someone who’s anti-choice, I'm not accepting or condoning their views. In fact, I'm having the conversation with them to try and change their minds; sometimes I succeed, and sometimes I don’t. But simply having these conversations doesn’t mean that I agree with them, or that I’m somehow being less than truthful. Maybe I’m missing Marcotte’s point, but I don't see how dishonesty automatically enters a conversation between someone who is pro-choice and someone who isn’t.
This is my opinion, based on a combination of optimism and personal experience. I'd be interested to hear from others in the community about what they think – is dialogue with the anti-choice side a necessity? A long-overdue approach, or a horrible idea? Has it ever worked for you?
Both Kissling and Marcotte made reference to a conference that Kissling helped organize earlier this fall. The event, held at Princeton University, was to facilitate dialogue between the anti-choice and pro-choice communities. Whether or not the conference met its goals is an open question; at the very least, it led William Saletan, a columnist for Slate, to propose a rather provocative “compromise.”
Kissling makes as strong a case in favor of dialogue as Marcotte makes against it, but I’m more inclined to agree with Kissling's interpretation – not because I agree with everything she says, but because I think it’s time for a new approach to protecting the right to choose. Over the past three decades, the pro-choice side has won many important victories, but in too many parts of this country, abortion is legal in name only and barely accessible; the Hyde Amendment is going nowhere; and the very word “abortion” is so stigmatized. Maybe actually talking to those who disagree with us about why they feel the way they do, and looking for that common ground, isn’t the worst approach to try.
Of course, I think discussing a woman’s right to choose with Randall Terry, or any other extremist, would be a colossal waste of time. But there are a lot of people in the anti-choice community who are a lot more moderate, and with whom I think that honest communication would be useful. And here I have to take issue with Marcotte's assertion that no dialogue with someone that holds a different position can be honest. There's nothing dishonest about saying we disagree, but we can still talk. When I speak with someone who’s anti-choice, I'm not accepting or condoning their views. In fact, I'm having the conversation with them to try and change their minds; sometimes I succeed, and sometimes I don’t. But simply having these conversations doesn’t mean that I agree with them, or that I’m somehow being less than truthful. Maybe I’m missing Marcotte’s point, but I don't see how dishonesty automatically enters a conversation between someone who is pro-choice and someone who isn’t.
This is my opinion, based on a combination of optimism and personal experience. I'd be interested to hear from others in the community about what they think – is dialogue with the anti-choice side a necessity? A long-overdue approach, or a horrible idea? Has it ever worked for you?
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Sorry, Dad
The morning after Thanksgiving, my father and I discussed my career plans. I recently left a job to pursue my dual dreams of writing and working in a clinic. I haven't done clinic work before; my direct service work has been through non-profit organizations. Anyway, my father asked me if I would be safe working in a clinic. This isn't an issue I like to dwell on, so I quickly said yes, of course. He looked at me for a long second and then said no, really. Do I have to go buy you a bulletproof vest?
Still being flippant, I shook my head and stupidly pointed out that in the case of Dr. Tiller and others injured or killed by antis, such gear wouldn't have mattered anyway. I felt guilty being so blunt, but sometimes it's hard to make the transition between Abortionland and the normal world, especially on vacation. I apologized to my dad and reassured him that nothing was certain, least of all that I could actually find clinic work. But I do suspect that if I ever do find that elusive dream job, my dad will get in the car, hit the highway, and go to the giant hunting supply store near his Midwest town, and buy a bulletproof vest for his youngest daughter.
Still being flippant, I shook my head and stupidly pointed out that in the case of Dr. Tiller and others injured or killed by antis, such gear wouldn't have mattered anyway. I felt guilty being so blunt, but sometimes it's hard to make the transition between Abortionland and the normal world, especially on vacation. I apologized to my dad and reassured him that nothing was certain, least of all that I could actually find clinic work. But I do suspect that if I ever do find that elusive dream job, my dad will get in the car, hit the highway, and go to the giant hunting supply store near his Midwest town, and buy a bulletproof vest for his youngest daughter.
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