The 30/30 Series: Abortion and the Death Penalty

This is the first in a series of posts commemorating my fortieth birthday.

One of the saddest, most disturbing moments of my life was a visit to a friend who had recently had an abortion. The sailor who knocked her up had no interest in raising a child with her, and her feminist ideologies, coupled with the fear of her conservative Catholic immigrant parents, told her it was the right thing to do.

I was not prepared for the now-useless milk that leaked from her breasts. She wiped tears and snot with the same tissues that daubed and dried her nipples. I tried to console her, and I had no right to judge her, but I knew she would be haunted for life by the decision. Perhaps she'd use the sorrow and guilt as a motivator for good, I theorized, but she seemed irreversibly damaged by her choice.

As affecting as the moment was, though, I have always found myself nauseated by the sanctimony of anti-abortion activists. I harken back to John Waters' screamed retort to clinic protesters as he rode past them: "I wish I was a girl so I could have an abortion!" Ultimately, my sentiments follow the safe, legal and rare line, with superduper emphasis on rare. I don't mean limiting access; I mean finding ways to reduce the need through sex ed, birth control, adoption programs, foundation money, etc.

In my personal life, I hope I never have to be that shoulder to cry on again. If a woman ever asked me for advice, I'd probably tell the leaky nipples story and the John Waters joke to convey my complicated sentiments. In the public sphere, I would never presume to tell a woman what to do with her own body, or preclude her from her choice. Any public servant who does so is a fraud.

Which brings me to the death penalty. Ever notice that most people who are rabid abortion foes are also pro-death penalty? Their sanctity of life arguments evaporate when the institutional decision to kill arises. Nevermind the racial and class disparities in its application, nevermind the ghoulish machinery and bloodlust, let 'em dangle or fry. It's justice, they conclude. That kind of hypocrisy offends me deeply, as I think it would Christ, who is remembered as both a death penalty abolitionist (Remember?) and a death penalty victim. (Remember?)

"Now, who's being sanctimonious?" you might ask. After all, isn't there a hypocrisy in supporting abortion rights and despising the death penalty? Perhaps. But I distinguish the personal decision (unique to women) to control the content of their bodies from the public decision to punish with death. Apples and oranges.

Or, if you prefer, the Constitutional right to privacy and the Constitutional right against cruel and unusual punishment. Any member of the Church of the Third Revelation will agree.