Birmingham Clinic Defense
When Ambrosia and I arrived in Birmingham it was muggy, warm, but pleasant overall. I didn’t know what to expect at the New Woman, All Women clinic we had come to defend, but I prepared to face the worst. This was the first time I’ve ever been in a situation that was expected to be volatile or physically abusive.
When we arrived in the clinic by cab, it occurred to me what that image was to the anti-choice protestors present: two young 20 somethings, getting out of a cab together, one male and one female, in front of an abortion clinic. I never asked Ambrosia about the things that we heard, or if she heard them. I heard screams that enraged me. “Don’t do it, don’t kill your baby, all the way up to, he did this to you, you’re a slut, he made you a slut…” all within seconds of getting out of a cab. When it was clear we were at the clinic to help, the protestors changed their chants and moved onto other their targets. It went from being about me hurting her to me being a sinner, a faggot, and a queer...
We spent a while standing on the grass with our signs, showing that we were people of faith who affirm choice for women, and affirm those choices no matter what they are. This seemed to really anger the protesters who frequently yelled epithets about our “lacking faith,” or our faith in the “wrong god.”
We attended the victory rally at a local park with Feminist Majority and NOW activists as well as my new hero, Diane, the New Woman, All Women clinic owner. Passionate activists addressed the crowd about many issues including those representing the GLBT community. Messages about gay men’s participation in what is usually considered a “women’s issue” were prominent. In New Mexico, we have a difficult time motivating gay men to care about the choice issue, and this was a rewarding part of my weekend.
While we were at the rally, the protesters (whose leader had apparently been arrested on Friday) packed up to go home. Since we had made our way from New Mexico to help, Diane asked us to stick around and serve as clinic escorts. The experience as a clinic escort was of particular interest to me—I was fascinated by stories of summers past and the experiences of organizers, escorts, and the staff. We chatted with about the clinic bombing in 1998, getting a history lesson about the events, the consequences, and the conviction of the women who opened the clinic only one week after such a violent attack.
I wish in many ways that I hadn’t heard these violent stories—I wish that we lived in a society where women were simply left alone to make decisions about their destinies the way most men are allowed to do, but I am regularly forced to face reality.
For me, this experience specifically highlighted the need for the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice and Spiritual Youth for Reproductive Freedom. There are definitely extremists who use political means to put laws in place to keep women from accessing the services they need, but the battle isn’t really being fought inside the beltway as much as it is being fought in the pews, on the streets, in the media, and in “counseling sessions.” The fight has grown and twisted to be about the way we treat women in this society.
The battles are about morality, conscience, and faith. More and more women are being forced to defend their decisions, having to hide them or worse—regretting them because of growing social stigma. The work of the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice and Spiritual Youth for Reproductive Freedom is necessary to move forward, necessary for the emotional and physical health of American women. I dream of a day when a woman can walk proudly into a clinic, for birth control, for prenatal care, or for an abortion, and feel safe. The day when she will be able to go alone or with a friend, partner, or parent and know that the two of them will not face angry judgment from protesters, damnation form preachers, or quiet contempt from neighbors and friends.


