Abortion: Is it Safe to Tell My Story?
Part II of IV in the series - Abortion: Refocusing the Conversation with Judgment-Free Compassion
If you have not read the first post in this series, it will be helpful to do so!
You can locate the entire series here!
My goal for this four-part series is to encourage us to step away from the political, religious, and legal battles over abortion and consider the impact our discourse and political efforts have had on women who have either had an abortion or found themselves navigating life as a single mother. Thank you to the women who have shared their stories with me over the past four years. I hope my words honor the often wrenchingly painful stories. I am grateful for those who have supported me in healing and writing this series—both men and women. May we always choose to lead with non-judgmental compassion.
The question being addressed in this post:
“Will my story of abortion be met with non-judgmental compassion?”
I believe that most of us want to show compassion to others—even when stories include abortion. In Trauma in the Pews, I approach doing so the following way:
“Can you listen—hold space—for others without judging their actions or sharing spiritual advice? The litmus test for trauma-responsive faith communities is how leaders and laypeople respond to the vulnerable sharing of trauma.”
Holding non-judgmental space is difficult in numerous situations; I suggest that it is most difficult when a woman shares a story about an abortion—because of the following three assumptions:
Assumption #1: An Aborted Baby is an Unwanted Baby
Assumption #2: An Abortion is Always a Woman’s Choice
Assumption #3: An Abortion Requires Repentance
Before writing Trauma in the Pews, I was working on a book that discussed these three assumptions—a book I will hopefully publish in the future. I recognized these assumptions when I began to interview women who, for the most part, had never publicly shared their stories. What I heard them say was very different from almost every social media post, meme, sermon, movie, political ad, or public testimony.
The following short synopsis of each assumption will hopefully explain the context since I am unable—at this time—to quote the women directly.
Assumption #1: As I listened to women, I found it was rare for a baby to be unwanted. All the women I interviewed (not all the women in the world), said they did want the baby and if the circumstances had been different, would have completed the pregnancy. The circumstances were overwhelming, but the baby was wanted. The result was complicated grief. The assumption of “unwantedness” only made it worse (to be discussed in Part IV).
Assumption #2: At some level, the women were coerced into having the abortion. This varied from extreme pressure to, in one case, a death threat. Even in cases where the women believed they had made the choice, their stories were filled with terrible options and lack of support.
Assumption #3: The women often began the conversation with a statement that implied they understood they needed to repent. After hearing their stories of coercion, death threats, lack of support, and impossible circumstances, I asked them what it was that they needed to repent from. They paused, and then seemed to struggle to name something.
Finding women to interview was difficult because I specifically wanted to interview women who were hiding in the pews of our churches. Several said, “I never told anyone this (or this part).” The freedom they seemed to feel while telling their story in a non-judgmental space was palpable. As we began the interview, I could sense the tension through the Zoom screen. They were so brave to trust me.
I am always available to listen to untold stories with non-judgmental compassion.
The Question: Will my story of abortion be met with non-judgmental compassion? The answer to this question is embedded in the degree to which the assumptions are believed to be true. I sense that programs intended to help women heal are reaching only a small number of hurting women because church culture holds onto these assumptions without engaging with the truth of women’s stories.
Women remain silent when it does not feel safe to speak.
For a sobering picture of how true this is, read the entire article from which the following statements are taken. (Source)
“7 out of 10 women who have had abortions in the United States consider themselves Christian.”
“Only 7% of women who had abortions said they directly spoke with someone in their church about their decision. For 3 in 4 women (76%), local churches had no influence on their decision.”
“For half of those regular churchgoers (52%), they still haven’t told anyone at their church about their abortion. Less than 2 in 5 (38%) say someone at their church knows they had an abortion.”
The story of Cassandra in Trauma in the Pews was my acknowledgment of the insights gleaned during the interviews. In the story, Cassandra shares her abortion experience with a Bible study group. She explains being taken for an abortion by her parents after being date-raped as a teenager and how she is grateful her parents made that choice. The leader's response was a call for repentance. “Cassandra realized she hadn’t sounded repentant. The uncomfortable sensation of shame enveloped her as she mumbled how it wasn’t her choice, but now she was sure that she needed forgiveness.”
The story ends with the following conversation between Cassandra and me. Now married and holding her newborn, she shared the following:
“I didn’t grow up in a home that believed abortion was wrong,” she told me. “The women didn’t seem to understand, I was pregnant because of rape, and the abortion was my parents’ decision. What they said to me made it feel like I was the one who did something wrong. After that night, I was afraid that everyone in the church thought I’d committed some horrible sin. I never felt guilty about it until that happened, and then after that, I never felt forgiven. From then on, I was always on guard.”
This is one example of how assumptions—such as the need for repentance—can result in compassion that is laced with judgment. One of the women I interviewed said that in her church community, abortion was considered the only sin that could not be forgiven. This was also pointed out in the research study. (Source)
“Half (49%) say that pastor’s teachings on forgiveness don’t seem to apply to terminated pregnancies. Even fewer (42%) say pastors teach God is willing to forgive past abortion decisions. Less than 2 in 5 (39%) agree that pastors are sensitive to the pressures a woman faces with an unplanned pregnancy.”
Is it any wonder that women remain silent?
While searching for women to interview, I asked friends if they knew someone they felt could trust me. One female ministry leader wrote back and said, “I am stunned to say that I do not know anyone who had an abortion in my ministry setting.” We agreed that this was statistically unlikely. They are sitting in the pews of our churches and it is up to ministry leaders and lay people alike to help them feel safe. We can only do this by realizing our assumptions and changing the conversation to non-judgmental compassion.
My Personal Reflection
(See below for a personal statement and caution concerning sexual abuse content.)
Four years ago, I woke up knowing that I had an abortion. While I had no doubt this was true, I still knew very few details. My memories were a mixture of flashbacks and the narratives I made up to explain a lost day and the fact that I was no longer pregnant. I have always believed I had a miscarriage. Years of additional therapy helped me to understand that I had been groomed, sexually abused, and sent for the abortion—two months after the Roe v. Wade Supreme Court decision. I was nineteen at the time.
In hindsight, I can see that the story of this day was ever-present in my life. It haunted my pregnancies, caused me to be almost completely dysfunctional in any medical setting, and left me with a visceral body response when my name was mispronounced as Jane—which is what happened when I was called back for the abortion. It was also embedded in many of my EMDR therapy sessions that revolved around my fear of the church.
I was hiding in the pews and being silenced by good church members and ministry leaders who believed they were supporting the right causes by fighting for unborn children. What they didn’t understand was that their complete lack of compassion for any woman who had an abortion was not only silencing me; it also prevented me from healing. I never spoke about the abortion or even consciously remembered it because it wasn’t safe to do so. I knew those three assumptions very well and that my life in the church would be forever altered if my story was ever known.
I have watched God disentangle me from the church for ten years so I can speak for those who sit silently in the pews. It doesn’t need to be this way. We can do better.
The comment option is turned off on this post, but if you would like to discuss the content or ask to share your story, you can message me!
Personal Note and Trigger/Dysregulation Caution: This series is informed by my personal story and therapeutic work to un-layer the shame imposed on my traumatized nineteen-year-old self who was groomed, sexually abused, and coerced into having an abortion. Trauma is the ongoing impact of a traumatic event—specifically when support is unavailable. This ongoing impact on my life will be the focus of the personal reflections that are included.