Focusing on abortion, race
Forty percent of all abortions in Pennsylvania are
performed on black women. There are other choices.
By Arlene Campbell
During Black History Month, I sometimes wonder: How many Dr.
Martin Luther Kings have we lost? How many Michael Jordans?
Was there a black girl out there who would have been the
next Rosa Parks had she lived?
Abortion has had a devastating effect on the African
American community, in Pennsylvania and throughout the
United States, and it's important that we start looking at
it through the prism of race.
Since 1973, when abortion was legalized, it has taken
millions of black lives - and I say it this way because I
believe an unborn child is indeed a living being. Here in
Pennsylvania, blacks only make up no more than 12 percent of
the population, yet about 40 percent of all abortions in the
state are performed on African American women.
According to the Alan Guttmacher Institute, a nonprofit
research organization and affiliate of the Planned
Parenthood Federation of America, black women are three
times more likely than white women to have abortions.
In the continuing national debate over abortion, the voices
of average black women are seldom heard. We are often talked
about, but seldom talked to. I'm an African American woman
who can speak about abortion from experience. It took me
years to summon up the courage to talk about my abortion,
but I now speak about it freely, so that young black women
will know the truth about what the right to choose really
entails.
In 1974, at the age of 22, I was a junior in college when I
discovered I was pregnant. My boyfriend did not want the
baby. He openly talked of abortion. The thought of this act
scared me but we decided to go ahead with the abortion
anyway. During the "safe and legal" abortion, I became quite
nervous because the doctor seemed to be having some
difficulty.
As he jabbed the suction instrument farther into my uterus,
I felt a sharp pain and said, "Ow." He then snapped, "Keep
still! See what you made me do!" This man knew he had done
something terribly wrong, but he never acknowledged it.
As the nurse led me to the recovery room, I tried to tell
her that something wasn't right. She quickly admonished me,
saying, "What do you expect to feel? You just had an
abortion!" After two hours in the recovery room, they gave
me a pack of pain pills and an emergency phone number to
call. They sent me back to my dormitory - to die, I felt.
Within 24 hours, I was rushed to the nearest hospital with a
temperature of 103. The doctor from the abortion clinic had
perforated my uterus. The abortion center staff never told
me about this risk before the procedure.
Several days later, I was forced to have a complete
hysterectomy because gangrene had destroyed my reproductive
organs. I had lost the only child I would ever have to
abortion. And I continue to grieve that loss to this day.
From 1999-2002, an average of 844 black babies were aborted
each day in America, according to the Centers for Disease
Control and Prevention. How many women are sitting in the
pews of black churches, silently mourning the children they
aborted?
Research from the Elliot Institute, an organization in
Springfield, Ill.., that studies the aftereffects of
abortion on women, shows that those who abort are more
likely to attempt suicide, more likely to abuse drugs and
alcohol. There is a hidden health crisis affecting black
women, and abortion, I believe, is its cause.
It's high time we start a new dialogue about the impact of
abortion on the African American community. Young black
women must be shown that there are viable alternatives to
abortion, such as seeking help from churches or crisis
pregnancy centers or adoption. They don't have to shoulder
the burden of unexpected pregnancy alone.
Abortion will never be a solution to poverty in our black
neighborhoods, racial discrimination, or the shortage of
black women in politics. Abortion is a failed public policy
which is tantamount to setting off a bomb in black families.
It will take us decades as a people to recover from this
tragedy.
I am hopeful that one day black women will no longer be
exploited by the abortion industry, that their bodies will
no longer be mutilated by abortionists, and that their
children will no longer be sacrificed on the altar of
"choice."
Arlene Campbell lives and
writes in Delaware County.