Abortion Love Letter No.3: Dear Unknown Friend
No.3! I am collaborating with the inimitable Camila Ochoa Mendoza of the Abortion, with love podcast to publish and air a series of love letters, written and read aloud by people whose lives have been touched by abortion, and who have love to express—to their provider, to their support systems, to the pregnancies they terminated, to themselves.
Abortion is love.
We will be publishing a new love letter every Monday, with enormous love and gratitude to artist Idalina Lehtonen for our gorgeous graphics and composer Anton Olsson for the transcendant music you’ll hear on each episode. You can listen to Karen read this letter here, or by subscribing to Abortion, with love on your favorite podcast platform. And you can send us a letter of your own, or a response to pass onto any of the letter-writers.
(Please remember that these are letters written by individual people, in their own cultural and personal contexts. We believe that everyone’s abortion experiences are valid and should be honored. You may not relate to or resonate with some of the things written in these letters, and that is okay. But we hope that you can recognize the magic and the truth in people honoring their own unique experiences, in their own words.)
Dear unknown friend,
We’ve never met and we don’t have a lot in common.
For example — You’ve never had an abortion, and I’ve had two. You’ve never been involved in abortion advocacy, and I do something every day to fight the stigma.
You probably don’t even realize just how many people are in the abortion care community.
There are educators and mentors; physicians and clinicians; funders and practical supporters; clinic escorts and artists; lawyers and researchers; doulas and abortion truth tellers.
They are all brave, brilliant and beautiful people, and I love them all with my whole heart.
But you are brave, brilliant and beautiful, too. And that’s because you have a very rare quality. You have humility.
You choose not to judge and shame other people for their pregnancy decisions — or for any other reason.
Maybe you have been shamed yourself for some other kind of hateful stigma, so you know what it feels like to be misunderstood and demonized.
Maybe you know how deeply it can hurt to be silenced, alienated and treated as less than human.
Or maybe you have loved ones who have suffered cruelties just for being themselves, just for trying to survive in this world.
For whatever reason, you know in your bones that you can never fully understand something that you have never experienced.
So you are vigilant of your judgments as they arise, and then you are intentional about keeping an open heart instead.
I love you for the opening in your heart because I know that any opening at all — no matter how small — means that understanding, empathy and compassion can find their way inside.
This world needs so much more compassion.
So thank you, friend I’ve never met, for being humble instead of judgmental.
You give me hope that the world can be a kinder place for pregnant people and for everyone.
With all of my love and gratitude,
Karen