UPDATE: March 15, 2016, 9:04 a.m. PDT This story was updated to include five new stories submitted by readers. We have stopped taking submissions from readers at this time.
One in three American women will have an abortion in her lifetime, according to research from the Guttmacher Institute.
That means most Americans know someone who has ended a pregnancy, even if that person has never spoken about it personally.
Until recently, the stigma surrounding abortion seemed unbreakable. Few women wanted to publicly discuss their experiences, fearing they'd be harassed or called murderers.
This stigma can prevent people from talking to their friends, families, co-workers and employers about their experiences, even if it affects their daily lives. It also keeps women from politically advocating for themselves and their families.
That is starting to change with movements like #ShoutYourAbortion and the 1 in 3 Campaign, which see emotional storytelling as a way to alleviate the shame that many women feel.
The strategy has become central for abortion rights advocates in Whole Woman's Health v. Hellerstedt, a challenge to controversial abortion regulations passed in Texas, in 2013. On Wednesday the Supreme Court began hearing arguments for the case, the biggest abortion rights battle in decades with national implications about the constitutionality of similar laws passed in others states.
Mashable profiled Whole Woman's Health, the abortion provider at the center of the case, focusing on its holistic, anti-stigma approach. We invited readers to tell us in a poll if they'd judged themselves or others for having an abortion. The results may surprise: Nearly 80% of the 1,700 responses, as of this date, said they had not.
We also asked readers to share their own stories about how abortion stigma has affected their lives. Their moving accounts show how women can be confident in their decisions and see abortion as a positive event in their lives, despite feeling years of shame because of others' judgment. We have published 14 of those anonymous, lightly edited accounts.
“I was grateful and relieved.”
I feel like I can't speak up sometimes, even with dialogue like this, because I don't have kids and don't want any.
I was 19 and my birth control pills failed. While I knew I was not in a place where I could emotionally, financially, or physically care for a child, I also have known my entire life [that] I never, ever wanted to have a child at all. It took until I was 35 to even find a doctor willing to tie my tubes.
I didn't feel any regret at all about having an abortion. If anything, I was grateful and relieved that there was a safe medical option. I get angry when I hear people say things like, "They could have the kid and give it up for adoption." It seems to dismiss the women like myself who, even as a kid, knew they don't ever want to even go through being pregnant.
But I don't say anything because it feels like you're supposed to regret it, even if it was the best choice, so people can at least say, "Well, at least she's sorry." I'm not sorry at all. —Anonymous
“I don't tell a soul.”
I feel judged every day when I read comments online and hear my students talk about how awful abortion is, or when my son comes home with his Catholic school "pro-life" poster.
How I deal with the stigma is to simply remain silent. I don't tell a soul and feel that shame because of what a horrific person I must be to those people. Selfish, murderer — all of the wonderful adjectives you see constantly. No thank you.
I would prefer everyone continue to view me as the typical middle-class soccer mom, not the devil incarnate who is going to hell. —Anonymous
"I am sick of being silenced."
I had an abortion when I was 34 years old, three-and-a-half years ago. It was a heartbreaking decision for me to make, because I still have not had children and I would love to be a mother. It was not the right time.
I was marginally employed in the "temp economy" and I was in a physically and emotionally abusive relationship with someone I had met only two months earlier. Still, I felt like because I am a working professional (a lawyer), and I want children, I should have been prepared, so I questioned my decision before I did it and even after. My partner at the time did NOT want a child.
"None of us is a murderer, not a single one of us who had an abortion did what we did with malice in our hearts."
I thank the universe that I live in a state where all that was required was a phone call and one appointment and a very long day at a very crowded clinic. There were protesters at the clinic that day, they were not loud but they did make me feel a bit scared.
I used to sometimes argue with people on Twitter who are against abortion. The worst is when they call women who have abortion "murderers." None of us is a murderer, not a single one of us who had an abortion did what we did with malice in our hearts. I did what I did out of love for myself, my then boyfriend, my family who would have been burdened helping me raise a child I was not financially or emotionally prepared for, and my future children if I am lucky enough to have them.
Stigma still affects me because I feel like I cannot be open at all times about my experience. I tell people sometimes, but I cannot admit it on social media, even though I want to, because I think it's important to tell our stories and not let the other side dominate the discourse.
If they want to call us murderers they can do that to my face. Sometimes I wish I can just say whenever I want: "It happened to me, and it was really hard, and I grieve for the child I could not keep, but I am not sorry."
I am sick of being silenced. My abortion was the hardest thing I ever did, but I know why I did it. Women who go through this deserve compassion, not sadistic laws that make our experience even harder. Stigma affects me to this day because every time I read an article about abortion restrictions, or every time I hear an anti-choice person say that abortion is murder, they are talking about me, and it's not okay. —Anonymous
“My soul chose this journey.”
I was 17 and in a relationship with a man who was 23. He was emotionally abusive, although I didn't realize what emotional abuse was at the time. I just thought he loved me a lot and I didn't have the heart to hurt him. Especially when he threatened to commit suicide if I left him, or do other awful things to those I cared about.
The first time we had sex it was not with my consent. After that I thought I had to give him sex — that I was already "damaged goods" and that I couldn't stop now. When I found out I was pregnant, I was petrified.
I had been put on a pedestal in my small community — valedictorian, straight-A student, homecoming queen. I already felt like I was going to hell every week sitting in church knowing I had sex before marriage (when I had always planned on being a virgin until marriage). Now everyone would know I was going to hell.
How would I tell my parents? How would I let them down? The shame they would feel because of my actions was unbearable. My boyfriend said we could get an abortion and I agreed, not really thinking about it. We went out of state and there were protesters there. I remember feeling this tremendous amount of guilt. I couldn't look any of them in the eye...I felt as though I was the worst person on earth.
I am sure there are many [people] who are pro-life who would agree with that statement. When I woke up from the abortion I just remember feeling relieved. I was so glad it was over. I was so glad I could go to school and not have to hide my exhaustion and morning sickness from my friends and family. But the guilt has followed me.
I managed to get out of that abusive relationship after six years, after a very long struggle and him attempting suicide. I realize now that I never would have been able to get him out of my life had I kept the baby. I would have had to deal with his emotional abuse and manipulation my entire life.
"I realize now that I never would have been able to get him out of my life had I kept the baby. I would have had to deal with his emotional abuse and manipulation my entire life."
I know I would have stayed with him. I never would have broken up with him. It was difficult enough to escape that relationship as it was — my life would have taken a different course.
In all likelihood, I wouldn't have finished college because my ex wasn't the best worker in the world. I was supporting him. I would not have been able to support him, take care of the child and complete my education. I currently have my masters and teach at the college level.
I am married and have two beautiful children whom I adore more than life itself. I do sometimes think about what life would be like if I wouldn't have had the abortion. My child would have been 21 by now.
But I also believe that our souls choose their journey. My soul chose this journey and I have learned a tremendous amount from it. It was the right choice for me at that time in my life. With my current career, I have been able to change students’ lives, help them get out of their own abusive relationships, help them recognize the impact of their family on their lives and to move past it to have a healthier future themselves.
Those hundreds of students that I have helped — [that] never would have happened had I become the wife of an abusive man because of the baby.
I still feel a lot of shame and I have only told two people in my lifetime about my choice. I feel an incredible amount of regret that I was not a stronger person when I was 17 and made different choices. I can only imagine the people who would view me in a completely different light if they knew. Perhaps I'll break the silence someday, but most likely I will take it to my grave. —Anonymous
"She was the only person I had for support."
I felt judged by those who knew about it. The only person who didn't judge me was an [aunt] that had an abortion at the same age I did. She was the only person I had for support. —Anonymous
"It is OK to have an abortion and never become a mother."
I was shamed by the abortion providers at the [clinic]. I had two abortions in a nine-month period. The second abortion left me partially pregnant and [during] the follow up to resolve, the doctor was very shaming as though it was my fault that the procedure wasn't complete.
During my second procedure I had the office manager tell me I was too loud during my first abortion and that I scared the other patients, so for this procedure I needed to be quiet. I have carried the shame of the abortion providers for nine years. They were the cruelest to me. I wish I had [Whole Woman's Health] clinic.
I went on to get my Ph.D., which I think I would not have gotten if I had kept the pregnancy. I feel that having my abortions were vital to me having a life that was service oriented and centered on caring for others. I do not have children — and that is one narrative that seems to be missing from ending abortion stigma...women that never become mothers.
It is ok to have an abortion and never become a mother. I wish I could speak about my experience out in a political way, but given the stigma and the shame, I have told very few people about my experience. Thank you for your platform. — Anonymous
"I had no regrets."
After having the abortion, I had no regrets about it, but I never spoke about it to anyone, because I guess the subject was taboo and I did not want anyone to judge me. — Anonymous
“I was grappling with realizing my boundaries.”
I realized in the middle of planning my second child's fifth birthday celebration set for that weekend that I didn't have a single symptom of my upcoming period. I just knew that I was pregnant. And I was devastated.
I was running errands with my grandmother and discreetly purchased a pregnancy test and ran to the restroom to take it. Immediately it showed [a] positive [result]. I continued to walk around the store with my grandmother, with tears streaming down my face, telling [her] that something in the store must have activated my allergies.
I already had three children. For the first we had to undergo fertility treatments to even conceive. For the second, the one whose birthday was upcoming, more treatments. When she was two-and-a-half, I was shocked to become pregnant completely on our own, without fertility treatments.
I was devastated with my third pregnancy and while I knew my husband to be pro-choice, he sat across from me at the dinner table and said, "We can do this. I know we are pro-choice. But we can do this. We can't terminate. We just can't. We CAN do this."
I KNEW that I didn't want to do this. I spent the next eight months deeply depressed and so angry at my body for finally figuring out how to get pregnant without drugs or doctors, angry at my husband and my best friend for telling me, "Oh you are going to be fine, you are going to be okay, its all going to be okay."
Every single day, I thought, "WHY didn't I abort?? This is not the life I want for my two other children, this is not the life I want for me. This is not the life I signed up for."
Thankfully, the moment he was born, so much of that anger and bitterness melted away and I love being the mother of three children. We have made our much-too-small home work for our family of five. But the day of this positive pregnancy test, I KNEW that I would absolutely not be sharing this news with my husband, with my best friend, that I would not be the mother of four children.
With my children at ages seven, almost five, and three, I absolutely was not up for a fourth child. Nearly eight years between my oldest and youngest? Not for me. Five more years of preschool payments?? Another five years of having to wait before being able to work full time again?? We barely fit in our home with three children, adding a fourth was going to be impossible.
My husband is [several] years older than me. We didn't even have our first until he was [in his early 40s]. We would love for him to retire at a reasonable age and another child delays that. So I knew immediately that I would be calling Planned Parenthood as soon as I was home. Over the phone, the person told me the process.
There is a 48-hour waiting period in [my state], so I would have to drive 45 minutes one way to the initial appointment and then back for my pills. And then back a third time for an ultrasound to confirm that the abortion had worked. I am self-employed and work part-time from home. I had very little trouble moving my clients around and go to these three appointments.
I cannot fathom having to do those things if I had a full time job or if I lived any further than 45 minutes away from the clinic, as so many other women do. The employee told me that the cost would be $750. I explained that I had insurance and she took my insurance information and called me back to tell me that my insurance would cover everything except my $20 copay. Another huge relief.
"My children and my marriage and our future meant more then a fourth child and I know there are more of us that feel that way and it’s why I want to share my story."
The day of my appointment, I dropped my children off at school and preschool and rushed to my appointment. When I arrived, I had to drive past a dozen protesters...it was Respect Life month. Sigh. I held my head high and walked into the clinic, all while being shouted at, "We can help you. Don't do this. There are options."
I was flabbergasted. Yes, I was there to have an abortion. But are people really THAT ill-informed to not know that Planned Parenthood does so much more? Was that woman going to give me a low-cost pap smear? How about birth control pills? How ridiculously presumptuous to assume that every women entering the facility was there for an abortion.
When I was inside, [for] every step of my process the staff and nurses and doctor were courteous and helpful. Yes, I cried. Not because I was aborting my pregnancy, but because I was grappling with realizing my boundaries — that while I can do so, so, so much in my life, for my family, in this world, having a fourth child was simply not something that I could do. And that’s hard— deciding that there is anything that I cannot do.
There was a brief "counseling" session where the staff member asked a few questions, attempting to make sure that I was okay with my decision. She asked if my partner knew. I lied and said yes. I wonder what she would have said if I said no. I returned two days later to take my pills.
I wanted to hug the brave, kind, elderly doctor who sat across from me reading a script that the lawmakers of my state have required. He apologized profusely and assured me of the exaggerations of the script and I returned home.
I took the second dose before bed the next day, woke up around 7 a.m. to a heavy period and had to go about my day as normal — getting my three beautiful children off to school, volunteering in my child's classroom, getting them all to their evening activities, while having an abortion. Not a soul knew.
Within a few days, the period ended, I returned for a THIRD visit to the only clinic in my area, 45 minutes away, and received the all clear from the tech that the abortion had worked.
"I barely survived my third pregnancy. I would not have survived a fourth."
I was, and still am, thankful. I am married to an amazing man, with a wonderful job, have a fulfilling job myself, have a beautiful home, three gorgeous children that I am thankful for every day of my life. I am grateful for the ability to make a choice for myself, for my family, with few hurdles and seemingly having everything that one needs in order to carry a pregnancy to term — a happy marriage, a secure financial future — and making this decision solely based on the family I already have.
I barely survived my third pregnancy. I would not have survived a fourth. My children and my marriage and our future meant more then a fourth child and I know there are more of us that feel that way, and it’s why I want to share my story. —Anonymous
"I lost all political and social correctness following my abortion."
Abortions are hard. Being pregnant is hard. Being pregnant and thinking that there's no way out of your situation is even harder.
It's funny. All my pregnant friends posted every little detail about their pregnancy online. All the cravings, the insomnia, the nausea. I couldn't mention any of mine, unless I was brushing it off as something I ate, for I was getting an abortion — which, if you live anywhere near the Bible Belt or Texas, is a crime punishable by social ostracism.
"Abortions are hard. Being pregnant is hard. Being pregnant and thinking that there's no way out of your situation is even harder."
Yes, those girls you were best friends with in high school are one conversation away from never speaking to you again, unless it's in the form of passive aggressive social media postings.
Walking into the clinic and having to face the protesters were hard enough. As I got to the door of the clinic, a car alarm went off and the gentlemen inside the van ran to the door. For a split second, time froze. I wasn't aware of this man's intentions. My eyes quickly scanned his body for any signs of carrying a gun. The Planned Parenthood shooting was still fresh in everyone's minds, as I saw several women do the same. Much to everyone's relief, a woman met him at the door and handed him her car keys. Whew. Husband waiting in the car.
How sad is it that women going to have a very routine medical procedure done, are faced with protesters and even the threat of being harmed by some kind of rabid demented psycho, staking out these places? I, for one, lost all political and social correctness following my abortion. I will not be shamed into silence. I will not allow anyone else to die for a routine medical procedure. #stoptheshame #shoutyourabortion — Anonymous
“I wouldn't be who I am or where I am.”
I stay quiet, but not silent. I consider myself to be pretty responsible, if maybe impulsive at times. My first abortion I was 16 and [I was] on birth control. My boyfriend at the time was leaving for college. Neither him nor I were in any place to start a family or bring a little person into the world.
I have two amazing children now. But they were brought into my life when I was ready and could provide what they need, financially and emotionally.
My mom took me to a clinic in a hotel near the airport. I remember the signs and how the waiting room looked. It was the right decision at the time.
For my second abortion I was 18, again on birth control, and was at the end of an unfortunate relationship with someone I came to find liked drugs and strippers more than me. Again, at 18 most people aren't in a place to raise a child. I certainly wasn't ready to do it alone or burden my family with it.
My best friend took me and helped me pay for it. And it was the right decision at the time. I went to college and have a great job. I have two amazing children now. But they were brought into my life when I was ready and could provide what they need, financially and emotionally.
I wouldn't be who I am or where I am if I were not fortunate to live in a place where safe abortions are relatively accessible, even 20 years ago when I needed it. Some people close to me know. But most people don't. People know my stance on abortion rights, but not my personal connection to it. I am selective in who I tell about a safe and necessary medical procedure. So...I stay quiet, but not silent. —Anonymous
"I have so much more to say."
I've had three abortions and am unable to talk about them, not because I'm ashamed in general, but because of the difficulty it would create between my parents and me. I've never felt so powerful, so in control of my life, or so relieved as just after I made the decisions I made.
I had access to wonderful facilities and was supported by some of the most empathetic people I've encountered in the medical industry, and am passionate about abortion access.
I was raised Catholic. I used to argue with people about how selfish women were, not understanding the life sentence you're charging someone with when you take away their right to choose their future. I will probably never discuss it with my parents—nor do I want to.
The stigma keeps me from discussing it openly so I can help other women, and I think that's the worst part of all. I feel no guilt, no shame, but the stigma I'd receive from my parents if they found out (and I'm a whoppin' 37 years old) would be too much to bear. I love them very much. I have so much more to say. I'll leave it there. — Anonymous
"I regret the fact that I keep it a secret."
I have no personal regrets about the decision I made to have an abortion. As an adult, I now regret my teenage recklessness that ultimately led to that decision. But I do remind myself that 17 is the age of recklessness. At 17, I was too young to be a mother, and my home situation was somewhat volatile. It was the right decision for me at that time in my life.
I traveled in secret to a neighboring state to bypass parental notification in my home state. A dear friend went with me to lend her support. It was hard. I felt awful. I was not proud of myself that day. I was smart enough to realize that I had made a terrible mistake, but I wouldn't make it right by bringing a baby person into the world and my situation.
"I live in a very conservative place and people here wouldn't understand."
As an adult, I regret the fact that I keep it a secret. I am not ashamed. I just live in a very conservative place and people here wouldn't understand. I fear that it could cause trouble for my teenage son if I were to out myself and my pro-choice beliefs.
At home, however, I teach my son about responsible, safe sex — trusting him enough to tell me if he and a girlfriend are ever in trouble — and respect for a woman's right to choose. I never want him to feel as helpless and alone as I did.
He needs to know that I can support him through anything. I can only hope that more conversations like that are happening with other parents and children in homes around the country. I think it is our very best hope for change. —Anonymous
"I don't ever talk about it."
I still feel judged for having one almost six years ago. I don't ever talk about it, and when I do it's a "heavy" topic and I always try to end the conversation as fast as it began. —Anonymous
"I want other people to know I had this experience."
I knew right away that I was pregnant. My breasts were too sore, and the night before my missed period, I woke up vomiting at 1 a.m. I tried to blame it on the alcohol and the seafood from the lovely restaurant my boyfriend's parents had taken us out to just two nights before Christmas, but I knew. Something was very off.
I was 30 (clock's ticking!), firmly on the fence about whether or not I wanted kids (still am), living paycheck to paycheck in a job where the opportunities for advancement were almost nil, and with a loving boyfriend of about two years who had dreams of pursuing a doctorate, but was still just halfway through a challenging masters degree program. It just wasn't the right time.
"I'd always been pro-choice, but it was strange to be the person actually making the choice."
I'd always been pro-choice, but it was strange to be the person actually making the choice. My younger sister had just had a baby...My mother was itching for more grandkids, my other siblings for nieces and nephews, and after all, I was the oldest. But there I was, one of the lucky ones that has 24/7 morning sickness in their first trimester, constantly nauseous and waging an epic war of pros versus cons in my head.
The decision was obvious. The morning sickness made it hard to get moving in the mornings. I was frequently late for work. When I finally terminated my pregnancy (because that's the word I related to, "terminated"), I confided to my boss I'd had a miscarriage, which earned me a dose of sympathy. His wife was newly pregnant.
While I haven't told many people (what would my family think?!), I don't regret it. It was the right decision. I wasn't ready for kids then, and I don't know if I'll ever be ready for them, but I was able to start making proactive changes in my life without the burden of raising a child I couldn't have raised under the circumstances that I would to raise a child under. I am forever grateful that the option was available to me.
I don't remember much about the clinic besides waking up with horrible cramping from a blood clot, but I remembered to thank the doctor and nurses, there on the front lines, ensuring my rights and those of other women everywhere were preserved. It felt supremely important to make sure they knew how appreciated they were. I hope everyone who passes through there remembers to do the same.
I want to tell my Catholic Republican family to reduce the stigma and make them think twice about who they cast their votes for. I want other people to know I had this experience, but while it is so easy to speak of abortion objectively, it's an entirely different animal when speaking of your own abortion. I don't have the courage yet. Maybe one day soon. —Anonymous
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Topics Gender Health Politics Supreme Court
