If we want to keep our reproductive rights, we must be willing to tell our stories, to be willing and able to say, “I love my life, but I wish my mother had aborted me.”
An abortion would have absolutely been better for my mother. An abortion would have made it more likely that she would finish high school and get a college education. At college in the late 1960s, it seems likely she would have found feminism or psychology or something that would have helped her overcome her childhood trauma and pick better partners. She would have been better prepared when she had children. If nothing else, getting an abortion would have saved her from plunging into poverty. She likely would have stayed in the same socioeconomic strata as her parents and grandparents who were professors. I wish she had aborted me because I love her and want what is best for her.
Abortion would have been a better option for me. … The world would not be a darker or poorer place without me. Actually, in terms of contributions to the world, I am a net loss.
On first pass, this is laughably absurd. On second thought, it’s terribly sad, and I fear it won’t end well for this tormented woman, who goes on to say that as long as she’s hear, she feels that she must do what she can to make life better for others. Including, one presumes, urging women to exterminate their children in their wombs. Culture of death, aye.