This is a reblog and expansion of something I wrote when the first rounds of defunding Planned Parenthood happened. The original is here. The carnival is brought to you by Shakesville and What Tami Said.
Since Republifuckers are so damned determined to lie about what Planned Parenthood does, and since so many of us have used their services, I think we should tell our stories. So here’s one (of many) that I have.
When I was a wee unmarried lass of 19 I confirmed that I was pregnant for 10 bucks at PP. But I didn’t just pee in a cup. They did a full exam and and then gently asked me if I knew what my options were. I knew from the second I thought I might be up the stick that I was keeping the Kid. When I told the doc, she didn’t lecture me about my age or state of non-marriage (as other doctors and nurses would later). She gave a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and told me the possible due date (which would later be nearly a month off because it’s not as an exact science as we’d like to believe AND the Kid was, as is his style, 2 weeks fucking late).
She gave me information on how to apply for Medicaid, including the actual forms, so I could get prenatal care straight away and she gave me a paper proving a positive pregnancy test result to include with the forms to speed up the process. At the bottom she scrawled ‘Elizabeth has decided to parent’. And that is the moment where I realized the enormity of the CHOICE I made. I decided to parent.
That choice is not often celebrated when the one making it is poor, young, unmarried, not white, diasbled or not neurotypical. Planned Parenthood is the only national organization that I can think of that does the boots on the ground, doctors in the clinics, actual support of women no matter what their choice is. All the feminist theory in the world and theoretical arguments don’t amount to jack shit when you don’t actually a safe, clean, staffed clinic for poor women and girls (and men and boys) to go to. Choice doesn’t mean anything without that.