Abortion Gang

For a short period in the early days of my pro-choice activism, I had a nemesis. The fact that she didn’t know about it may have lessened the impact. My nemesis was a young woman who was heavily involved in a pro-life organization that did some protesting of the abortion clinic where I worked at the time; I found out her name and used to creep her on Facebook, but truth be told it wasn’t that interesting. She was a standard, young white Christian type, super involved in vanilla stuff like music or Sunday school or whatever, saving herself until marriage with some equally non-threatening young man.

The one thing that was edgy about my nemesis (at least as far as her peer group went) was that she had a tattoo – a Bible quote that could be interpreted as anti-abortion. I remember thinking smugly to myself how silly she was to get such a strong statement tattooed on her so young; what if later she figured out the complexities of the issue and changed her stance? Or what if it just became less of an issue for her?

I know now that I was being kind of an asshole, after a few years of being a woman and having my own permanent choices (including, but not limited to, tattoos) being questioned. It makes me think of the double standard around having children that I have been coming up against lately: folks who don’t ever want to have kids seem to face a lot more questioning and condescending “oh you’ll change your mind someday” bullshit than the people actually having kids, which is kind of ridiculous when you think about it. (Obviously this is based on my own experience and is probably different for folks of different colours/ages/culture backgrounds/sexual identities/etc.).

Anyway this is all coming up because I got a tattoo this week, and unlike my two previous tattoos it is a. political, and b. almost always visible. I have been thinking about this one for almost five years, and when I look at it I feel 100% awesome about it, but I know there’s a chance that won’t always be the case. But it’s the chance you take, just like my nemesis took a chance that she would always be against abortion and a Christian. You can’t really know how things are going to go in life, but it’s too short to hold back, I think.

Next week I am getting my second IUD inserted, a five year placeholder on the road to whenever they finally let me be permanently sterilized. I’ve known I don’t want kids for way longer than I’ve known I wanted this tattoo, but I still hear this junk about maybe changing my mind – more than I’ve ever heard about maybe regretting that tattoo. I know it’s not really the same, but I feel like they’re bound together by the horrible kinship of policing women’s bodies, choices and lives. The only person who gets to give my new tat the side-eye is my mother, and that’s only really because it’s inevitable. And the only person who gets to question my decision to never be pregnant is exactly no one.

I am the expert on my own life. My body is part of that. Trust my decisions, because I’m the one who has to live with them; but more importantly, because it’s none of your damn business.

Recently, because I am an idiot, I agreed to go on a Christian television talk show and “debate” a well-known national (Canadian) newspaper columnist on the relative merits of MP Mark Warawa’s proposed Motion 408, which would “condemn discrimination against females occurring through sex-selective pregnancy termination”.

One of the many things that really bugs me about this motion is that Warawa doesn’t even want a change in the law; he just wants the Government of Canada to condemn this particular choice. It’s unclear what form this official snubbing would take, but the idea that people would want to simply codify our disapproval, as a nation, of this choice is almost worse than just making it illegal (in principle, anyway).

The talk show experience was an absolute gong show, but that’s another story. What really surprised me was my debate opponent’s perfectly clear and confident assertion that sex-selective abortion was the immigrant community’s problem, and that it is our duty as Canadians to teach them Canadian values like gender equality. After I was done sputtering in shock at the explicit xenophobia, I managed to respond that we do not, in fact, value gender equality in Canadian society. Both my debate opponent and the host of the show seemed genuinely shocked that I would believe such a thing.

The whole exchange was so strange, so surreal. I felt very conscious that I had said something impolite – that it was uncivilized to talk about gender inequality in Western culture, just as it was uncivilized to engage in sex-selective abortion. We must greet such transgressions with the very strongest, WASPish disapproval we can muster. I am certain that the two very civilized ladies sitting on that set with me would not have opposed a motion to condemn speaking up out of turn to accuse one’s elders of obliviousness to inequality.

I feel the historical context of the word “uncivilized” perfectly encompasses the mindset behind wishing to condemn a practice that is mostly carried out, in this country anyway, by women of Southeast Asian origin. Being civilized has been a cage both for women – in the way we are expected to behave – and for people of colour, in the way their cultures do or do not align with Western standards of order and propriety. A civilized society does not speak about vulgar things like sexuality or reproduction. A civilized person does not veer from the path prescribed to her based on her station in life.

I am thinking about this because in North Dakota, Republican Rep. Bette Grande – the prime sponsor of a bill banning abortion based on genetic defects and gender selection – said that such abortions have “no place in civilized society”.

I wonder about civilized society. Is a society civilized, that cedes control of women’s bodies to the government? To be civilized, must a society force women to carry to term pregnancies they do not want, of children whose needs they cannot afford to meet, without providing a sufficient social safety net to facilitate care for those children? Does a civilized society include poverty? If it does, does that mean it also excludes talking about it?

Can one even talk about what makes a civilized society without being, oneself, somewhat uncivilized?

The positive connotation of “civilization” to many of us is progress. Surely a civilized society would abhor the enslavement of its citizens, in body or spirit. Surely a civilized society demands forward movement.

Surely a civilized society can do better.

ast week I went to the doctor for an IUD consultation (my last one came out but I really want them to shove another one up there regardless). Two days later, at a small gathering at their house, friends of mine who have been married for a year told us they were expecting a baby.

It was then I realized that my first reaction to this news is always sheer, unadulterated terror. Sympathetic terror, you understand – I feel terrified on their behalf, because somebody needs to, because they are just sitting there smiling like idiots when A TINY HUMAN is about to be completely, vulnerably, irreversibly in their care. WHY AREN’T YOU TERRIFIED I want to yell, which is not only socially inappropriate but also somewhat unfair. Firstly because they may in fact be terrified, but just have the common courtesy not to show it (and/or it is outweighed by happiness and other positive emotions), and secondly because really it’s none of my business.

Why does this news always lead to vicarious terror? Really I am happy for my friends – not just happy, but that perfectly pleasant place where your love for someone, and them having something they want that you don’t at all, intersect; no jealousy, just pure vicarious excitement. But I think of that tiny uncontrollable human that will soon be in their care; that little beast with its feelings, at the mercy of other, perhaps more terrible humans out there in the world.

On the way home my friends and I talked about what extra challenges the child might face, being mixed race. But we live in a big urban centre, in 2013 – it couldn’t be so bad, could it? We peered cautiously at the question from behind our whiteness. How bad is it? Certainly not bad enough that our beautiful, happy friends, with their own middle class backgrounds, strong support networks, and blossoming careers would even have second thoughts, right? But those terrifying conversations happen behind bedroom doors, and sometimes not even there. I thought of that same couple’s trip to visit a mutual friend attending school in the southern USA; the kinds of things they had to consider, as an interracial couple, would never have crossed my mind – but then, that’s my privilege, to not have to consider those kinds of things if I don’t want to.

What positive thing can come from my vicarious (maybe?) terror? A supportive ear, a cautious eye. I could be the clingiest babysitter there ever was. I want to follow my friends’ kids around and yell at people who give them a hard time; defend with my oversensitive heart the bodies they inhabit. I guess this is what happens when you and your friends get old enough to look out for yourselves; suddenly a new generation springs up and your loyalty and fear spreads out to encompass them. If I wanted to be a mother, I think I would be a terrible one. My child would never be allowed to take a risk; my poor heart wouldn’t allow it.

So I’m going to go ahead and get that IUD as soon as I can, but for me that’s only half of being childfree; the other half is offering my support, love, and absolute awe – and, if needed, a surplus of pure terror – to my beautiful friends and their upcoming tiny human on this next great adventure.

Last month I went home to Fredericton, the city where I met my love, to marry him (my love, not the city). The following weekend we attended the wedding of two dear friends who also met in Fredericton – at the abortion clinic where I used to work.

You can read the story from Tania here – it’s really sweet, although of course I am biased (I’m the Peggy in the story! Confusingly age-inappropriate!). People who know me know that I love love, and it absolutely warms my heart to think that two people I care about not only met, but decided to marry, in the parking lot of a place that has been the site of so much drama and heartache. Love is often political, and I feel like proposing to Tania in that spot was a radical act on her partner’s behalf – like they were taking back that space for love.

Spaces hold meaning, and in small communities they hold many memories and associations. When the abortion clinic opened in Fredericton, the adjacent middle school was closed for the day out of fear of violence. Friends of mine who went to that school remember this vividly; for many, it was the only reason they knew there was an abortion clinic in our city before I started volunteering there. And still when the school (which is downtown and doesn’t have any outdoor exercise space) has outdoor gym classes or safety drills, the kids are often running by protesters holding up giant gory anti-abortion signs.

During their annual March for Life, anti-choice protesters reach over the back fence that divides our clinic from their crisis pregnancy centre (yeah, it’s next door) and rub holy water in the shape of the cross on to the building. The small fences create a boundary where the protesters are not allowed to walk on clinic days. A safe zone.

When my partner had a summer job painting dumpsters (so glamorous!), before my association with the clinic, he started on the abortion clinic dumpster when the clinic manager – now a dear friend of ours – came out and eyed him suspiciously, asking what he was doing messing around with their garbage. The dumpster is kept locked. Anti-choice people will dig through it to find medical records and waste – things that would never be thrown out with the regular garbage, but never mind.

At the clinic I have seen people crying, screaming, hugging, sleeping, barfing and fighting. I have gently urged people out of their cars through an onslaught of protesters. I helped one woman climb over the fence when she realized she had accidentally parked at the crisis pregnancy centre. I have played with patients’ children, soothed their mothers, hugged their friends. I have refused entry to countless aggressive men, and hung up on many more. I have frozen my ass off in the parking lot, and had some of the funniest, deepest and most engaging conversations of my life with the other volunteers, and with the patients’ friends. Before I worked in the clinic, I volunteered outside – I spent hours patrolling those fragile boundaries. There’s no physical space in my life that I have protected so vehemently. I huddled there with a mass of strangers, holding candles, when Dr. Tiller died. I sat inside at my desk ignoring the stares of protesters through the window, willing myself to keep the blind open.

I thought of that space as my friends enjoyed their first dance together at their wedding. How truly lovely that a space that held (and holds) the hopes and fears of so many of the people that I care about should give birth to this moment. How strange the evolution of the places we call home.

In May of 1970, three dozen women entered the House of Commons in Ottawa and chained themselves to their seats. They interrupted debate on the floor by reciting a prepared speech and chanting for free abortion on demand. They were forcibly removed from the building, and their interruption caused the first ever adjournment of Canadian Parliament in 103 years.

This act of civil disobedience was the culmination of the Abortion Caravan, a group of pro-choice activists who drove from Vancouver to Ottawa, stopping in cities and towns along the way to build support and educate the people about the state of abortion access in Canada. At the time, eighteen years before the groundbreaking Morgentaler decision, abortion was only available to women who stood successfully before a Therapeutic Abortion Committee consisting of three (overwhelmingly male) doctors who would deem her suitably unfit – in mind or body – to carry a pregnancy to term.

When the Abortion Caravan arrived in Ottawa it was five hundred strong and fierce as all get-out; they dressed in mourning clothes and carried a black coffin bedecked with coat hangers, which they left at the front door of Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau’s official residence.

The Abortion Caravan was instrumental in galvanizing public support for abortion rights in Canada, and the grassroots, collective action of the Vancouver Women’s Caucus (the group who planned the caravan) laid the foundation for Dr. Henry Morgentaler’s struggle with – and eventual triumph over – abortion laws in this country. Most people with a vague understanding of the history of abortion in Canada know about R v. Morgentaler. But Dr. Morgentaler, although a courageous man and a determined fighter, did not legalize abortion in this country on his own. Not only was he surrounded and supported by fierce pro-choice activists – most of whom were women – his work was built on an existing, established movement of equally courageous activists; women who not only chained themselves to chairs in Parliament, but who also risked their freedom, jobs, and sometimes their lives to help others access safe and necessary medical care.

It is so important to remember the history of the Abortion Caravan, not least of all because it happened so relatively recently. But it is also important to remember and honour this history because we should never confuse the Abortion Caravan with the “New Abortion Caravan”, an initiative of the Canadian Centre for Bio-Ethical Reform, a truly loathesome group of people who wish to kick women right back to 1970 (or earlier if they can!). Please be on the lookout for these assholes and their big truck decorated with fetus gorn; they have yet to stop in Winnipeg, Thunder Bay, Sudbury, Brampton, London, Toronto and Ottawa. If you are in one of these cities, please join a counter-protest if you can. Let’s defend our history from a bunch of misogynist control freaks trying to take a big steaming dump all over it, shall we?

More info here.

Last night while on my ride home from work, I turned on my phone and began to devour the #M312 hashtag.

If you haven’t been keeping up with Canadian politics (come on! Why not?), Motion 312 is a motion introduced by Conservative MP (Member of Parliament) Stephen Woodworth, calling for a Parliamentary Committee to examine whether the Criminal Code definition of “human being” should be expanded to include fetuses. I can’t even tell you with a straight face that Woodworth is pretending this isn’t about abortion. The motion was accepted for debate, and said debate happened yesterday, in the House of Commons.

When I was fifteen and far too naive to understand it, I read a book of Sartre’s that I found on my sister’s bookshelf. Several years later, in my third year of university, I took a 20th century existentialism course because I had a crush on the professor. I got very little from either of these experiences; but riding home on the streetcar yesterday I finally realized what the “nausea” was that Sartre was talking about. I felt a lurch in my stomach that was somehow both physical and existential; I turned off my phone and stared out the window. “Is this really real?” I asked myself. 

Is it really happening that today, twenty-four years after the abortion law was struck down in this country, four years after the man for whom that Supreme Court decision was named won an Order of Canada, our elected (ha!) representatives are standing up in the House of fucking Commons, for goodness sake, and having a serious debate about – let’s face it – abortion? Is this really happening? Outside Parliament yesterday, a crowd of women dressed in handmaid costumes from Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel The Handmaid’s Tale stood and protested the gradual but inevitable regression of women’s rights in this country. “The Handmaid’s Tale is not an instruction manual,” they said.

Margaret Atwood must be shaking her head. Our mothers and grandmothers must be shaking their heads.

Anyway, the debate. Once I had sufficiently recovered from my existential malaise, I tuned back into the debate – livestream from the House of Commons, and in another tab, Twitter, and in a third, Kady O’Malley’s liveblog.

Woodworth opened with fifteen minutes of speechifying, during which time he managed to fire off an impressive array of anti-choice cliches, paying particular loving attention to the “slippery slope” argument. If we can abort fetuses, who’s next! he cries, forgetting that one of the original arguments he brought forward for amending the Criminal Code was that the definition of “human being” therein was based on 400-year-old science; surely if something was “next”, it would have it would have happened by now?

Woodworth proceeded to mangle and take out of context quotes from various sources, from Martin Luther King, Jr. to former Supreme Court Justice Bertha Wilson (who was a member of the court presiding over the R v. Morgentaler decision). The outrage from Twitter – and the exasperation from the New Democrat MPs in the House – was palpable, even from behind the tiny screen of my smartphone. Who is this jackass, and why is he allowed an audience for his nonsense?

Predictably, when the floor was opened for other MPs to speak their piece(s?), Woodworth was eviscerated. First up was NDP MP Francoise Boivin, who correctly characterized M312 as a “full frontal attack” on women’s rights. Liberal MP Hedy Fry called out Woodworth on his attempt to introduce “back door” legislation on fetal rights (as opposed to abortion rights) – a strategy that is not new to this government (remember Bill C-484?).

One by one our MPs lined up to cut Woodworth down, and to put a cherry on top, Conservative Whip Gordon O’Connor gave a strong and unwavering speech in support of a woman’s right to choose. Not even his own party could stand behind this gong show of a Motion – Prime Minister Stephen Harper himself will vote against it.

To be clear, nobody ever thought this would go anywhere, or that Woodworth would succeed in making any changes to the law, let alone changing the legal status of abortion. It is the fact that we are having this conversation that is such a slap in the face to Canadian women. It is terrifying that our rights are so fragile, we can “open the conversation” on a whim, even under a government whose leader promised he would not reopen the debate. Whoops, Harper, looks like that one got away from you!

The next debate on the motion will not happen before June, and most likely will actually occur in the fall. Don’t put away those handmaid costumes yet, ladies – you’re gonna need them, one way or the other.

For a full recap, watch the webcast on ParlVU (debate on Motion 312 started at 5pm), or read the Hansard, and for commentary check out the #M312 hashtagon Twitter.

I have had a love-hate relationship with 30 Rock almost since the show’s inception. I love it purely because it is smart and hilarious, and the Liz Lemon character is such an unabashed loser that it’s hard sometimes to remember how conventionally attractive she actually is. There are so many things about it that I like, in fact, that it took me a lot longer than it usually does to start getting annoyed with its faults.

It was an episode a couple seasons ago that did it for me; you might remember it. In the first five minutes, a man beats up and decapitates a cardboard display of Liz, and Jenna gets a book thrown at her face. Then there is a truly disgusting “joke” involving Pete raping his wife in her sleep, which gets not one, but two visual depictions. All played for laughs. Because of various elements of my privilege I was able to shrug off some of the vile sexist and transphobic “humour” of the show, but that episode really crossed a line for me.

I keep watching it, and I’m glad I do, because on Thursday night while waiting for the (in my opinion) much funnier, smarter, and warmer Parks and Recreation to start, I tuned in to 30 Rock and caught an episode that not only depicted a smart, friendly and funny little feminist child, but also involved some nuanced commentary on the American economy. But best of all was a scene in which Liz Lemon told Jack, “You are being so transvaginal right now!”.

Immediately my Twitter feed repeated the quote back to me via about six or seven different people, not all of whom are reproductive rights activists. This is the true joy of 30 Rock for me – they manage to sneak in the kind of jokes that tell you that someone is paying attention, even if it is just Tina Fey or a bunch of nerdy TV writers. Sometimes as an activist you get so wrapped up in a particular issue, you start to lose the ability to tell how much the general public actually knows about it. Is it common knowledge that these horrible transvaginal ultrasound requirements (and other ridiculous abortion restrictions) are sweeping across the US, or is this just something that abortion geeks like us pay attention to?

Not that 30 Rock making a joke about something means it is common knowledge – obviously there is an intellectual elitism that is almost essential to fully appreciating this show (another thing that bothers me about it…but also makes me feel smart when I get all the jokes). But Liz Lemon calling a controlling, patronizing, uber-privileged man “transvaginal” – it’s so, so important that she uses it in the context of calling Jack out for being intrusive – is important. It means that if this isn’t something we’re talking about, it should be. Because a lot of people are being really transvaginal right now about our wombs and lives. Liz Lemon’s got our back.

Navigating the world of humour can be difficult when you’re clued in. For me, an important part of being an extremely privileged feminist was learning to stop making jokes at the expense of others, particularly about rape and sexual assault. Some humour seems so pervasive in the dominant culture that people think it must be ok (like prison rape jokes, or someone-you-thought-was-a-woman-turns-out-to-be-a-man jokes, hahaha NO). However, the more you learn about oppression and privilege, the more you see how pervasive racism, transphobia, sexism, etc. etc. are in our culture, and how they grow and spread through “comedy.”

So with that said, can we agree as feminists (and human beings) that jokes where the punchline involves firebombing a facility whose staff and clients are under constant threat of being firebombed aren’t funny? Just like jokes about women being raped aren’t funny? The reason being that they aren’t challenging or subversive; they propagate the status quo. Clinics get bombed. That isn’t humour. It’s news.

This post tells us that Mavis Mantis, who identifies as a “radical feminist” (the fact that this term has been co-opted by trans-hating assholes is a topic for another day…), made the following “joke” regarding the recent Planned Parenthood bombing/arson in Wisconsin: “If they were going to bomb PP, they at least could have bombed Toronto (after that horrible lesbophobic “overcoming the cotton ceiling” workshop.)”

The workshop Mavis is referring to was run by Planned Parenthood Toronto and focused on “…draw[ing] attention to the ways in which trans women are socially constructed as undesirable, and are denied full participation in queer women’s communities.” We can argue all day as to whether this workshop is inherently lesbophobic, which is Mavis’s (and other “radical” feminists’) contention (hint: I disagree), but to suggest (even jokingly) that it merits having the clinic bombed is offensive and frightening. As if the staff running that workshop don’t go to work every day with the threat of bombing hanging over their heads. As if the queer and trans participants don’t face the threat of violence and murder every day of their lives. As if this is how we “punish” supposed transgressions from our allies.

As a cis woman and a feminist, I reject and condemn such bullying tactics – that is pretty much the bare minimum of what I can do as an ally to trans folks and as a decent human being. As a person who lives, works, and accesses sexual and reproductive health care services in Toronto, I am frightened by the anger behind this “joke” and by the implied spirit of violently correcting perceived mistakes in the feminism and social justice efforts of others. And as a former clinic worker, I am appalled by the levity with which the daily threat of violence is treated by this supposed ally.

Here’s a thought: what does firebombing anything accomplish? I don’t think we can’t joke about firebombing things, but really, let’s at least be subversive about it. There’s nothing new or hilarious about saying you want to firebomb Planned Parenthood, because a lot of assholes want to firebomb Planned Parenthood. And it’s especially unfunny to joke about violently punishing people or organizations that attempt to offer support to trans folks, because guess what? Trans folks get threatened with violence pretty much every day of their lives.

Just because allies are thin on the ground doesn’t mean we have to accept any old self-identified feminist that comes along. As someone who believes strongly that trans folks, queer folks, clinic staff and their allies and supporters deserve to be safe every day, I strongly and unequivocally condemn any “joke” or statement from any person – feminist-identified or otherwise – that uses violence or the threat of violence against anyone as a punchline or something that can be treated lightly. My feminism is not just implicitly intersectional; it is explicitly anti-transphobia and anti-violence. Haters need not apply.

You may recall my previous writing on Prince Edward Island, the only Canadian province where there are absolutely no abortion services, and currently no bus service going off the island. Women in PEI are having a really difficult time accessing abortion right now – and in Canada, abortion is something we all have a right to under the Canada Health Act. The difference in access across this country is a prime example of why it isn’t enough to fight for our right to reproductive healthcare; we must also push for equality in access, or we don’t truly have choice.

Inspired by the PEI Reproductive Rights Organization’s co-founder, Kandace Hagen, and her recent tie for first in the Atlantic Council for International Cooperation’s Active-8 youth campaign, I am launching a little campaign of my own to match the prize money ($1000, of which Kandace received half) to put towards PRRO’s work helping PEI women access abortion, and lobbying for abortion services on the island.

I started the campaign on March 9, hoping (ambitiously?) that we could raise the thousand dollars in a month. Just over a week in, we already have 45% of our goal – but I need your help to boost the signal!

PRRO is a real grassroots organization; their mandate is to bring PEI up to the standards outlined in the Canada Health Act and align the province with the rest of Canada. The Maritimes is a politically conservative, economically depressed region that struggles to support youth initiatives; Maritime activists make it happen for themselves. These folks are awesome, inspiring people, with jobs and families and lives outside of this work. They are working tirelessly to make sure PEI residents have the bare minimum of reproductive health care.

If everyone reading this gives a couple bucks, we can reach our goal in no time. If you can’t give, please consider sharing the link with your networks. If you have fundraising ideas, or do not want to donate over PayPal, feel free to contact me at pedgehog [at] gmail [dot] com.

I am confident we can raise $1000 for PRRO – it’s such a small amount, but it will go a long way towards helping PEI women access the health care they need.

One thing the anti-choice movement seems to do pretty well at is recruiting young people. This is not really surprising, as the anti-choice perspective on abortion can be (and often is) packaged and sold as relatively simplistic: they like babies, and don’t want them to die. It can be very difficult to be a young person, and easy to latch on to a cause that presents the world in easily discernable categories of right and wrong.

Engaging youth in the protection of their reproductive rights has been an ongoing challenge for our movement. Outside of the “second wave vs. third wave” nonsense that is continually dragged out to cause discord, there is a real issue here: the pro-choice view of the world is messier and more complex, and therefore a harder sell, than the nicely packaged anti-choice “I heart babies” view.

One thing the anti-choice movement really sucks at, though, is actually supporting these youth. They love getting them on board in order to trot them out at rallies and use them to score easy political points, but if they cared at all about the actual concerns and needs of youth, well, they wouldn’t be anti-choice. So it was with little surprise that I read about the latest way the anti-choice movement here in Canada is throwing at least two young people under the bus in order to gain a cheap victory.

The Atlantic Council for International Cooperation is running its third annual Active-8 campaign this month. This is a great campaign that encourages youth to present their best idea of how to make a positive change in the world. Allies pledge to act in a way that supports that idea, and the participant with the most pledges at the end of the campaign wins $1000. It’s a great way to support youth living in an oft-overlooked part of Canada, and to encourage them to value their ideas – and learn the skills necessary to turn those ideas into funding.

I have written before about the dismal state of reproductive rights and abortion access on Prince Edward Island. Well, one enterprising young person there, Kandace Hagan, entered the Active-8 campaign to bring attention to the problem, and hopefully to make a difference in the lives of many folks on the Island. Pretty great, right? And pretty bold, too – PEI has the kind of small-town mentality that, while it can be quite positive in some respects, generally discourages this kind of rocking the boat.

This is where the anti-choicers come in. Kandace was doing pretty well and had moved into second place, when suddenly the first place candidate, a young woman named Tara Brinston whose work centres on intellectual disabilities, jumped 100 pledges ahead overnight. Huh. This would have stayed in the realm of vague suspicion until Anne Marie Tomlins (of the PEI Right to Life Association) was found to be the source of an email urging folks to vote for Tara in order to shut Kandace down. Apparently this email was just supposed to go to a few people, but it was “leaked,” and now the antis can smell blood in the water.

So let’s take stock of the situation. Anti-choice folks are pledging their support to a campaign they didn’t give a shit about a week ago, just to make sure a young pro-choice activist doesn’t get $1000. Not only are they essentially sabotaging Kandace’s campaign, they are making a mockery out of Tara’s. Imagine how she will feel if she wins, not knowing if it was because people actually support her work in disability advocacy, or because a bunch of douche-canoes used her to claim a petty victory over reproductive rights. That sucks.

My hope in situations like this is that I’ll be able to take the high road, but really there’s no other way to go here. Anyone who pledges for Kandace – even in reaction to this latest development – is doing so presumably because they genuinely support her cause and want to make the world a better place in that regard. There’s no sabotage (counter-sabotage?) route for pro-choicers to take here, even if we wanted to. We have a candidate. The anti-choicers, if they cared at all about supporting youth endeavours, should have put up a candidate whose campaign was to continue squashing reproductive rights on PEI (what an inspiring dream! Please, take my $1000!). But they didn’t. Instead they crashed the entire campaign and sabotaged two inspiring young women, and for what?

Because that’s the best part: the anti-choicers gain nothing here. Even if Tara wins, her work is in disability advocacy – it doesn’t help their movement at all. The only benefit for them is Kandace losing, and if the anti-choice crowd celebrates every time a pro-choice activist doesn’t get $1000, they must get raging boners every time they look at my bank account. Really, all they’ve succeeded in doing is drawing media attention to three things: 1. the excellent Active-8 campaign; 2. the abysmal reproductive health situation in PEI (which doesn’t get half the media attention it deserves) and the brave activists fighting for change there, and 3. that they (the anti-choicers) are assholes who don’t care about idealistic young people unless they are propping up an exploded fetus sign.

I have already pledged for Kandace (and you can, too!), but I will make this additional pledge: if she does not win this contest, I will figure out a way to personally fundraise $1000 for her and the PEI Reproductive Rights Organization. I hope you’ll help.