Until recently, Abby Johnson, the director of Planned Parenthood's clinic in Bryan, Texas, escorted patients past angry protesters and publicly excoriated the local antiabortion organization for spreading lies and threatening women's health. But the 29-year-old resigned from her position last month and has since joined forces with that long-standing foe, Coalition for Life, and even taken to praying with picketers outside the office where she worked for eight years. Johnson, who won the clinic's "Employee of the Year" award in 2008, has a two-part explanation for her stunning about-face: First, she says higher-ups pushed her to raise the number of abortions performed at the clinic due to financial woes; and second, she recently saw an ultrasound of an abortion, which she says led to a sudden "change of heart."
As you can imagine, this transformation has been a tad controversial.
The activists who held countless vigils for Johnson and her colleagues in the small conservative town, home to Texas A&M, see it as a literal godsend; conservative Hot Air blogger Ed Morrissey announced that he wasn't surprised "to see Planned Parenthood pressure its offices to push abortions harder ... [because] with less money flowing into the abortion mills, they need to market it more aggressively." Even in some typically liberal venues, a temporary restraining order filed on Friday by Planned Parenthood against Johnson and Coalition for Life has only raised suspicions against the clinic: On Double X, antiabortion writer Rachael Larimore asks, "Is Planned Parenthood going to such lengths to keep Johnson from discussing its 'business model'?" She adds, "I don't want to jump to conclusions" -- too bad she clearly already has.
A copy of Planned Parenthood's petition for the restraining order obtained by Salon suggests it might not be as simple as these commentators claim. The document says that Johnson was put on a performance improvement plan on Oct. 2 of this year. That same day, she was allegedly seen "removing items from the Health Center." Days later, Johnson was allegedly seen copying "confidential files." Some time later, a physician from another city who occasionally works for Planned Parenthood's Bryan clinic reported that a protester from 40 Days for Life, a campaign that aims for a constant, around-the-clock presence in front of targeted clinics and is also linked to Coalition for Life, said that they "knew that the physician worked for [Planned Parenthood] in Bryan."
The petition additionally claims that Johnson told a nurse practitioner who works for Planned Parenthood that she had passed along the provider's résumé, home address and phone number to Coalition for Life. Johnson also reportedly told a clinic employee that "something big" was going to take place this past weekend during the finale of the organization's latest 40-day protest, although the big something apparently never materialized. Reached by phone, Johnson told Salon that she has "no idea what they're talking about." She says she "never took anything from Planned Parenthood" and "would never disclose patient's confidential information." Planned Parenthood is unable to comment on the matter at this time.
Serious concerns remain that information might have been passed along that puts clients and employees at risk. The petition puts it this way: "Every service provider that works for [Planned Parenthood's] Bryan Health Center has already been a target of the Coalition for Life in the past. If Johnson discloses information about the employees, clients, and service providers to the public, these people will be subject to protests, harassment, and perhaps physical violence from groups and individuals that oppose [the clinic's] activities." In the wake of Dr. George Tiller's murder, it's indisputable how very real that threat is.
Johnson knows all too well just how dangerous antiabortion activists can be. Bryan's Planned Parenthood has been particularly besieged. In a radio interview (which you can listen to here) on Sept. 20, Johnson told of death threats "targeted at me and my husband and my daughter" and being followed in her car. What's more, on the day of Tiller's murder, her husband begged and pleaded for her not to leave the house, she said. She also spoke of the "harassing things" the entire staff would receive in the mail, the neighborhood-wide mailers activists sent out announcing employees as "abortionists" and the picket lines in front of workers' homes. "It's very scary," she said, "this group of people that claim to be these peaceful prayer warriors, or whatever they call themselves, it's kind of ironic that some of them would be sending death threats." Again, on another radio show, "Fair and Feminist," on Sept. 27 -- a mere eight days before her resignation -- she raised the issue of death threats: "They involve my daughter and my husband, so it's ironic that these people who call themselves pro-life are sending death threats."
Speaking of ironic, Johnson told Salon that she witnessed the ultrasound-guided abortion that sent her to the other side of the picket line on Sept. 26, the day before she gave that interview. She says she had considered backing out of the interview at the last minute but didn't because she was friends with one of the show's hosts. Johnson was also still trying to rationalize the many years she had spent passionately defending the clinic. "It's hard to admit that you're wrong," she said. That is especially true when you've spent years defending your work to family and friends, as Johnson did. Neither her parents, members of a Baptist church in Rockdale, Texas, nor her husband ever "bought into the pro-choice mission," she says.
In a press release touting Johnson's change of belief, David Bereit, national director of 40 Days for Life, which originated in 2004 outside of the Bryan clinic, said: "This amazing conversion demonstrates the importance of a constant, peaceful prayer presence in front of abortion facilities." Just how peaceful is a protest that lasts 24 hours a day for 40 days, though? Johnson herself called it "40 Days of Harassment" during one of her recent radio appearances. The organization has held five 40-day "vigils" since that first prayer blitz. That's a total of 240 days, or 5,760 hours, of protest. Protesters have also reportedly used the license plate numbers of cars seen visiting the clinic to find the home addresses of patients and employees, and then send them condemnatory postcards. (You can imagine how traumatizing this is for young women whose cars are registered at their parents' address.)
That level of harassment is enough to make anyone consider a new profession. Not to mention, a threat to the life of one's husband and daughter would send most folks fleeing to the first bland desk job they can find. That is why antiabortion activists do it; terrorism can be very effective. That isn't to say that Johnson was coerced into quitting her job and joining the other side. It's utterly believable that an ultrasound could change one's feelings about abortion, especially for someone living in a staunchly conservative community. However, it's hard to fathom spending eight years witnessing abortions, crossing picket lines and having your life threatened -- first as a volunteer and later as a rank-climbing employee -- without being clear on your feelings about abortion or the basic medical reality of the procedure. How many pamphlets and protest signs displaying extremely graphic images (far more so than an ultrasound) must have been shoved in her face over the years?
Then there is the issue of her claim of pressure to increase the number of abortions performed at the clinic as a way of raking in more dough. That allegation contradicts Planned Parenthood's guiding mission, which is pregnancy prevention -- but more important, it contradicts the fact of the organization's business: Only 3 percent of all health services provided by Planned Parenthood are abortion. Of course, Johnson knows this as well as anybody. In fact, she cited this very statistic in one of her radio interviews in September. In response, the host asked: "So, it's really not that much." She responded: "No ... we think 3 percent is a very small amount."
Not small enough, apparently, to keep her from scheduling an appearance to speak out against abortions at Planned Parenthood on Friday's "O'Reilly Factor." Something tells me we're witnessing the birth of the next right-wing media darling.
There was no justification for shooting Dr. George Tiller. It wasn't a courageous feat; it didn't prevent greater harm. Most of us already knew this, of course, but now we can rest assured that when accused killer Scott Roeder goes on trial next month in Wichita for killing the abortion provider, the jury will not be allowed to entertain such an odious plea.
This early Christmas present comes courtesy of Judge Warren Wilbert who on Tuesday rejected Roeder's "necessity defense." In his ruling, the judge said: "I recognize we could all have our own individual personal views, religious views, moral and ethical views. but the United States Supreme Court has come down many, many years ago in Roe v. Wade that an abortion is a legal and constitutionally protected decision by the mother and ... by health care providers." Period.
Here's the thing, though: The confessed killer will still be allowed to argue that he snuffed out Tiller to save the "unborn children" the doctor would have aborted. This could potentially pave the way for a lesser conviction like voluntary manslaughter, which is defined under state law as the "unreasonable but honest belief that circumstances existed that justified deadly force." Roeder's belief -- that it was necessary to kill Tiller to prevent the doctor from "murdering more babies" -- seems to meet those requirements. Unreasonable? Check. (Abortion is legal, remember.) Honest? Yep, there' s no doubt he's a man of strong convictions.
Isn't that nice? Potentially reduce your sentence to less than 10 years in prison by arguing: I unreasonably broke the law, yeah, but I really believed it had to be done. That said, the judge "might limit what the defense can say in opening statements, and indicated it would be difficult to allow testimony indicating Roeder was acting in defense of others because the law requires an 'imminent threat,'" according to the Los Angeles Times. However, the defense team previously requested a list of Tiller's clinic appointments scheduled for both before and after his death -- presumably to argue that there was indeed an "imminent threat."
We'll just have to wait and see when the trial kicks off on Jan. 11.
Oklahomans who believe in a little thing called the "right to privacy" can breathe a big sigh of relief, for now. Late Friday, a judge extended a temporary restraining order against a bill that would publish online extensive details about women's abortions. Now, enforcement of the law will be set aside until a February 19 hearing on its constitutionality, thanks to a lawsuit by the Center for Reproductive Rights. In a press release, staff attorney Jennifer Mondino said the organization is "very pleased with today’s ruling" because "women in Oklahoma should not have to jump through hoops to access legal medical care."
The loathsome law, which we've written about before, requires women to fill out a highly personal 10-page questionnaire before they terminate a pregnancy. In particular, the cross-examination focuses on the reason for the woman's decision to have an abortion. Answers are then posted anonymously on a state Web site that can be accessed by anyone -- next-door neighbors, parents, friends, you name it. Despite the results showing up without a name or address attached, it's still possible -- especially in a small town -- for women's identities to be discovered. Even the most amateur of detectives could visit the site and put together the various puzzle pieces -- age, marital status, race and approximate gestational age of the (note the bill's wording here) "unborn child subject to abortion."
The measure's anti-abortion bent is clear, but proponent Sen. Todd Lamb insists it's just a way to "collect hard data that can be a useful tool in helping prevent future unwanted pregnancies." But, as Linda Meek, executive administrator of the Tulsa clinic Reproductive Services, brilliantly told NPR, "If they want to reduce the number of abortions, then they need to concentrate on educating women about preventing unwanted pregnancies, educating them about emergency contraception, birth control -- and making birth control more accessible." Yes, if only they were actually interested in education and prevention.
"The ban on abortions at military hospitals hasn't been a prominent aspect of abortion rights advocacy in recent years, as reproductive rights activists have scrambled to avoid losing further ground to anti-abortion measures like the House health care bill's Stupak amendment or the corresponding Nelson amendment defeated last week in the Senate," writes Kathryn Joyce at Religion Dispatches. "But there are reasons why it should be." Among those is the story of a former Marine she calls Amy, who found herself pregnant in Falllujah two years ago. Except in cases of rape, incest or a threat to the woman's life, military hospitals cannot provide abortions, due to restrictions on federal funding of them -- and meanwhile, a soldier risks substantial personal and professional repercussions if she admits to being pregnant at all. She can be punished for having sex in a war zone (even if, as Amy later recognized was the case, she was raped), denied promotions, derided by commanding officers and humiliated by her peers. As National Abortion Federation president Vicki Saporta told Joyce, "If you're a woman in the military, you're going to have to obtain a leave to get the care you need. If you're honest about why you need that care, you put your military career in jeopardy. If you're not honest, then you put your military career in jeopardy." Or, as Amy put it, it's "like being given a choice between swimming in a pond full of crocodiles or piranhas."
So, unable to access a safe and legal abortion, Amy used "herbal abortifacient supplements ordered online... her sanitized rifle cleaning rod and a laundry pin" to induce a miscarriage. The first time she tried it, she lost a tremendous amount of blood, but remained pregnant. The second time, she became so ill afterwards, she sought help from a female supervisor. After being taken to a military hospital, she miscarried alone, got a $500 fine for having sex in a war zone, and eventually asked to be sent home -- a request granted because a military psychiatrist was easily persuaded that Amy was unstable. "They convinced themselves that anyone who would do a self-abortion is crazy," she told Joyce. "It's not a crazy thing. It's something that rational, thinking women do when they have no options."
It's something that rational, thinking women do when they have no options. Today, when an entire generation of American pro-choice activists was born after Roe v. Wade, when those of us who've been geographically and financially able to access legal abortion -- and/or had the education, available contraception and good fortune to avoid pregnancy -- hear the words "back alley" and only picture Cynthia Rhodes hemorrhaging prettily in "Dirty Dancing," that point cannot be emphasized enough. Banning abortion does not stop women from seeking to end unwanted pregnancies; it drives them to risk their own lives and health to do so. And that's continued even since the Supreme Court declared that abortion is a Constitutionally protected right, thanks to restrictions on when and where abortions can be performed, and who pays for them. The military ban, Joyce writes, creates "just one more category of women -- including those below the poverty line, federal employees, those cared for by Indian Health Service and Peace Corps volunteers -- who fall into the canyons created by sweeping bans on federal funding for abortion." Now, anti-abortion clauses in the healthcare reform bill threaten to add middle-class women to the list -- meaning we'd essentially be right back in 1972, with safe abortion services available only to wealthy women who can afford to skirt the restrictions. The military ban may seem like a low-priority issue to pro-choice activists who aren't among the 200,000 female service members (not to mention spouses and dependents on military bases) directly affected by it, but it's a sobering example of how cutting off access to abortion services endangers people's health and lives. Says Joyce, "Going forward, the failure in care that military women have long had to contend with could be shared by all American women."
The Senate has just voted to table an amendment to its healthcare reform legislation that would have tightened the bill's restrictions on coverage for abortion, bringing it in line with the language contained in the House's Stupak amendment.
By tabling the amendment, the Senate essentially defeated it. But don't think that's the end of the debate over abortion and healthcare reform.
This amendment was authored by Sen. Ben Nelson, D-Neb., who represents a key swing vote on reform, one his fellow Democrats have been working hard to get. And Nelson has said that if language like that used in the Stupak amendment, and in his proposal, isn't included in the Senate bill, he'll vote to support a filibuster.
The vote was 54-45 in favor of tabling the amendment. Nelson and his allies needed 60 votes to keep it alive.
Democratic Sen. Ben Nelson introduced his anti-abortion bill Monday afternoon and, as promised, it is a carbon copy of the House's Stupak-Pitts amendment. It restricts abortion coverage in the public option as well as by insurance companies that receive any federal subsidies -- even if government funding is carefully segregated. Predictably, this clone amendment is garnering an identical response from pro-choice groups.
In a press release, the Center for Reproductive Rights called it "a full-scale attack that would dramatically worsen the current state of affairs and prohibit women from using their own money to buy abortion coverage." Meanwhile, Planned Parenthood Federation of America President Cecile Richards said it "violates the spirit of health care reform by effectively prohibiting women from using their own money to buy private health insurance that includes comprehensive reproductive health care benefits." She added: "Health care reform is meant to guarantee quality, affordable health care coverage for all, not take benefits away from American women." What's more, a Planned Parenthood press release offers a reminder that the restrictions could all but eliminate abortion coverage options in the new health insurance exchange.
Since we've been here before, I suspect Broadsheet readers who disagree with Sen. Nelson's rigid abortion restrictions know just what to do.
Sarah Palin is the new anti-abortion icon, Ben Smith argues today in Politico: "Her decision to carry to term her Down syndrome child established a special relationship with anti-abortion activists, and now Palin has transformed herself from a politician who was anti-abortion into the leading figure of the anti-abortion movement." The truth, though, is that she has been upstaged by the movement's real star: Trig.
The 19-month-old has accompanied Palin on her book tour and is rarely out of the spotlight. He can be seen resting on her hip as she addresses a crowd or carried by an aide while Palin signs books. Adoring fans have showed up with handmade signs that trumpet things like, "We Love Trig." Jason Recher, a campaign aide who came along for the book tour, told Politico: "There’s a lot of people who come through the line to see Trig instead of to see her." It makes me think of the way believers the world over flock to see children who are deemed to be the reincarnation of a particular deity. Trig is being treated as the movement's blessed icon, a martyr because of what could have happened to him: abortion.
He's also being used as a straw man baby against pro-choice activists. "Palin's allies [suggest] that antipathy to her is based on the belief that she should have had an abortion rather than bearing her son," Smith explains. He quotes two conservatives bloggers who argue that this is part of a "broader societal bias against disability." This is just another iteration of the "pro-choicers hate babies" argument. Thankfully, Smith injects some reportorial balance: "Those people are, in fact, rather hard to find."
That doesn't stop Marjorie Dannenfelser, president of the anti-choice Susan B. Anthony List, from offering a sneering representation of the liberal point-of-view: "She had the audacity in the eyes of the abortion rights world to actually have this child and then has the audacity to bring him along with her and feature him as a centrally valued person in their family." Who, exactly, in the mainstream reproductive rights camp is offended by her choice? Dannenfelser dishonestly recasts disagreements with the way Trig is being used to further the anti-choice agenda with an objection to his actual existence and the fact that his family adores him. It isn't Palin's choice that we care about -- it's her disregard for other women's right to make their own choice, whatever that may be.
Remarkably, the article ends with a relatively inoffensive sentiment from Dannenfelser: She celebrates Palin for providing an example that will influence some women confronted with a similar situation. I think it's wonderful for there to be a public example of a family happily raising a baby with Down syndrome; women should be exposed to a whole range of role models for the various paths that are possible in life. But, again, it comes down to the issue of, hello, choice. Even Palin writes in her book that she considered abortion "for a split second" when she found out about Trig's condition. She considered it because she had a choice.
The abortion doctor
Susan Wicklund has received death threats and worn a bulletproof vest to work. But what really scares her, she writes in "This Common Secret," is the war on reproductive rights.
By Eryn Loeb, Salon
How abortion changed the world
From a sketchy underground doctor to the American fight against communism, a look at the unlikely forces that helped spread global family planning.
By Michelle Goldberg, Salon
What's wrong with the new pro-lifers
The progressive anti-abortion movement still doesn't truly value the life and identity of the mother.
By Frances Kissling, Salon
Is there a next generation of abortion providers?
As if the threat of violence and divisive politics weren't enough, getting trained is almost impossible.
By Kate Harding, Salon
When abortion was a crime
Reagan, an assistant professor of history, medicine and women's studies at the University of Illinois, dedicates her disturbing work on abortion in America before Roe v. Wade to "the lives of... women who died trying to control their reproduction."
The abortion debate
An incredibly interesting debate that looks at both the pros and cons of abortion from a secularist viewpoint.
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RNC Ditches Employee Abortion Coverage 