Roe v. Wade is now 40 years old and when it passed, I was 15. As an active Catholic sophomore in high school, I knew something in our world was different. My parents didn’t discuss abortion; no one did. Most girls weren’t sexually active, and I knew exactly what my father thought about me being sexually active; his beliefs kept me out of the backseat of any boy’s car. The idea of abortion was peculiar to me.
Roe v. Wade is now 40 years old and when it passed, I was 15. As an active Catholic sophomore in high school, I knew something in our world was different. My parents didn’t discuss abortion; no one did. Most girls weren’t sexually active, and I knew exactly what my father thought about me being sexually active; his beliefs kept me out of the backseat of any boy’s car. The idea of abortion was peculiar to me.
After graduating from a women’s college in the 1970s, I started medical school where only 30% of the class was women. I admired our women professors because they had forged a tough path and made life easier for me. One professor, in particular, made an impact. She was in her forties, had a few children, and was thrilled with the Roe v. Wade decision.
She had an abortion after becoming pregnant with her third child. Since she and her husband decided that one more child didn’t fit well into their lifestyle, she had the baby aborted. She shared with me how cruel other physicians were to her about her decision. “How dare they criticize my private decisions?” she used to say.
She was 20 years my senior, enormous in my eyes, and I agreed with her. What right did others have to criticize her choices? For several years, I defended my mentor. We women should have full say over what does or doesn’t happen to our bodies.