My job was to check in patients. In reality, my job was to be the first person to care for people seeking health care from Planned Parenthood.
After I graduated from college, I decided I needed to volunteer for Planned Parenthood. I wanted to volunteer in the clinic on days when abortions were being performed, but cannot recall why I ended up on a different day. I do remember I was disappointed. I was a feminist activist! A pro-choice activist! I wanted to help people who were coming into the clinic to terminate their pregnancy. I wanted to be that friendly face who would ease their fears, even just a little. Now I’d be checking in people “just” seeking pregnancy tests, Pap smears, and STD testing. Whoop-de-dooo!
*record scratch*
More than 20 years after that experience, I still can’t shake from my memory the face of a young woman who, when she checked in, immediately asked, “Will my mom be able to know I was here? She can’t know.”
The fear in her eyes stabbed my heart. I took a deep breath and assured her that her mom would not know. She had a right to be at the health center without her mother’s knowledge or permission. It was her body and we were there to support her however we could. She breathed out for what felt like the first time in minutes. Her shoulders relaxed and she took the clipboard from me to find a spot in the waiting room to fill out the paperwork.
I know I talked this over with the staff at the clinic. I learned from them how often they have to reassure young people that they can seek out healthcare for themselves without anyone’s interference. I came to realize how much fear there is for teens seeking care feeling like they are alone, that their parents would never understand.
When I was a teen, my friends and I rarely talked about these things. The girls in school who got pregnant were laughed at as if our laughter was a magical chant to keep that from ever happening to us. It was such ignorance because, really, we were all in the same sex ed classes with condoms on bananas. It could have been any of us and we knew it.
I volunteered during the late 1990s. The idea of population control was still pretty mainstream feminist, especially eco feminism. We knew the climate crisis was looming and thought one way to help stave it off would be to limit the reproduction of everyone, especially those in developing countries who did not have enough to eat. Pro-choice meant abortion-on-demand and defending clinics from those who wish to see pregnancy as a punishment.
My time at Planned Parenthood changed so much of that.
I was there long enough to learn how to do more than welcome patients and hand them forms. Near the end of my time there I was sitting with patients going over their forms, and talking them through what their appointment would consist of. I never dispensed medical information, but still felt vital to making everyone more comfortable during their visit.
I learned first hand the importance of Planned Parenthood being there to administer pregnancy tests - I mean, how many of us haven’t taken a pregnancy more than once to make sure we didn’t break the test and the result was legit?
I have a friend who used to be a clinic defender outside of Dr. Tiller’s office. Dr. George Tiller was a doctor who provided abortions, late termination of pregnancies, to be specific. He did this in Kansas and at one of only three US clinics who offered the service. His clinic was the center of anti-abortion protests on a regular basis. Dr. Tiller served women despite the violence that many abortion providers have to deal with. His clinic was firebombed in 1986. He was shot in both arms in 1993. In 2009, 10 years ago, Dr. Tiller was assassinated while he was serving as a volunteer usher at his church. Dr. Tiller was a hero and advocate.
My friend use to tell those of us on our email discussion group that she would see women protesting outside of Dr. Tiller's clinic only to find them on the patient table the next weekend. A few weeks later they would be back on that protest line. Telling patients, who were seeking the same services she had just used, that they were wrong for terminating their pregnancy. I’ve come to realize what was happening with those women. I did something similar.
When I was in college using Planned Parenthood’s services, I never made the connection to a larger narrative. I was there because I was not being financially supported by my parents; it was economical. I still felt shame from not knowing that you can’t get a Pap smear while menstruating and thankful to the nurse who let me escape the room before charges were racked up. I had put my experience into a box only to be opened to put in more experiences, not to reflect on them.
Obviously I knew Planned Parenthood was important - that's why I was a volunteer. But the nuances of reproductive justice hadn't cemented in my personal and political ethos. But sitting there, saying hi to scared youth and young people, women sneaking services without knowledge of their controlling partners, reassuring them of privacy and care, talking to staff members who think about the larger picture every day, it connected my story to theirs. To a larger narrative I would later learn with more studying, talking with leaders, and experiences outside of that clinic to be reproductive justice.
We all can’t volunteer at a clinic, but by telling our stories maybe we can still connect to each other, to the larger movement. I really hope that this what this new blog accomplishes.
Veronica I. Arreola is a professional feminist, writer, and mom. She has worked on diversity in science issues at UIC for over 20 years. Veronica is founder of the 50th Ward Action Network and serves on the board of directors of Bitch Media.
Have a Planned Parenthood story that you'd like to share? We'd love to hear it!
Tags:
