Savitri questions

There are abortion signs everywhere in Cape Town, from town to townships. These were startling at first because I have never seen such open displays of a practice that is still unfortunately illegal in many American states. The age of consensus for someone to have an abortion in South Africa is 12 years because gender-based violence, rape, and incest are that huge of a problem. While I think that it is great that young victims and survivors of sexual trauma have access to abortions because these procedures are often physically life-saving and grant the would-be mother a chance at agency and control over her life, it is also extremely sad that there is even a need for it.

I was having a conversation about abortion and my view is this: a woman has every right for abortion to be an option to her, regardless of the situation or cause of pregnancy. A few years ago I would have said that abortion should be available to women who have been raped or sexually assaulted or who would suffer physical complications or death were the pregnancy to continue. For a while I had said that I myself would never get an abortion but I don’t judge those who would. Why have I changed my views? Because who am I to say that I would never do anything, having never been in the shoes of others or experienced what others have? Who am I to say so haughtily that in a moment of conflict I would think the same way as I do comfortably sitting in my study lounge, with no higher obstacle than to finish my next assignment? What would even be the legal line at which people could decide – “Oh, she can totally have an abortion!” or “Not a chance in hell”? I think that it is ridiculous that so much energy and attention is pointed at these unborn organisms while so many people, who inarguably have the right to life don’t even get the chance or support to live that life?

I wonder whether this subject would be more properly discussed if – instead of asking whether or not these clusters of cells with the potential to be fully human constitute life or no life – we asked the question, whose life is more important? Why should the life of a fetus be protected so fiercely on such a higher pedestal than the life of its host, its mother? Why should the life of a fetus be granted more weight than the life of a homeless person, a worker in a sweat shop, a refugee with rocky legal status? There is little point in discussing whether something or someone has life. We all agree, for example, that grass and trees are living, but no one stands up to their rights when a piece of broccoli is being lifted to a hungry mouth. The debate of life is directing us away from a deeper problem in human rights, that as much as we want everyone to have the same access to rights as everyone else, as much as we believe in our heart of hearts that everyone is human and deserving of equal protection behind the law, in reality that is just not possible. There is always going to be someone who is underrepresented by law and health and education services, always someone who must sacrifice their rights and privileges for those of others. That is just the nature of all of us living together. In a simplified analogy, I myself must give up certain freedoms of quiet, living space, and individual eating habits to accommodate those that I live with. Sometimes the rights of the group supersede the rights of the individual.

So I wonder, if we consider that a great many things are living, then who and how do we decide whose right to life, or another other right, takes precedence over another’s?