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      in US Politics

      Anti-choice states aren’t satisfied. Now they want to punish traveling for abortions | Moira Donegan

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      How free can any woman be in a country where her right to control her body and family depends on the jurisdiction where she happens to live? Republicans are looking to find out. Over the past few weeks, as Republican officials in anti-choice states seek to make their abortion bans enforceable and compel women into childbirth, a new front has opened up in the abortion wars: roads. The anti-choice movement, through a series of inventive legal theories and cynical legislative maneuvers, is now attacking women’s right to travel.In a court filing last month, the Alabama attorney general, Steve Marshall, wrote that he believed his office had a right to prosecute those who help women travel across state lines in search of an abortion. The filing comes in a lawsuit from two women’s health clinics and an abortion fund, which sued Marshall after he publicly stated his intention to criminally investigate organizations like theirs, which provide financial and logistical help to pregnant patients seeking to leave the state. In his response, Marshall unequivocally stated that Alabama, which bans all abortions with no rape or incest exemption, views any effort to help women cross state lines as a “criminal conspiracy”.“An elected abortion performed in Alabama would be a criminal offense,” Marshall’s office writes. “Thus, a conspiracy formed in the state to have that same act performed outside the state is illegal.” The filing goes on to dismiss the free speech, expression and association claims of the fund and the two clinics.Meanwhile in Texas, two counties and two cities have passed laws banning so-called “abortion trafficking” – that is, the transport or assistance of anyone seeking an abortion – on the roads that pass through their territories. The “trafficking” in this moniker refers to the fetus: “The unborn child is always taken against their will,” Mark Lee Dickson, the architect of these bills, told the Washington Post. Like Texas’s SB 8, the bounty-hunter ban that outlawed abortions in Texas at six weeks before the fall of Roe, these travel bans are also enforced via lawsuits by private citizens – the law is designed to allow those who are displeased by an abortion to sue the friends, feminists and allies of the pregnant patient who helped her to get one.Dickson and his political partner, the SB 8 architect Jonathan Mitchell, are pushing the provision in border cities and towns along major interstate highways. And like SB 8, the law is less likely to be used by strangers to prevent abortions than by abusers to punish ones that already happened. As an example of the ideal use of his bill, Dickson told the Washington Post that a husband who did not want his wife to get an abortion could use it to sue the friend who offered to drive her – thus somewhat giving away the game that the goal of such a provision is to ensure that men’s private domination and abuse of women is recognized as a right enforceable by civil law.Texas and Alabama are not alone. Earlier this year, Idaho became the first state to criminalize abortion-related travel when it enacted a law making it a felony to help a minor cross state lines for an abortion. Meanwhile, Missouri made headlines last year when Republicans introduced bills that would criminalize anyone helping state residents to obtain abortions elsewhere.Is any of this constitutional? No. But that doesn’t mean the laws will be struck down. The novel enforcement mechanism of the Texas laws, in particular, which are enforceable not by the state or municipality but only by the lawsuits of private citizens, make it hard for any pro-choice group to get standing to challenge them. That’s the point: the bills are constructed to evade judicial review. And though Justice Brett Kavanaugh, for one, has said that he would disapprove of anti-choice states’ attempts to prevent women’s travel, the supreme court, including Kavanaugh, has already blessed abortion ban by civil suit with its sanction of SB 8.But the point of these laws is not, exactly, to enforce them, except perhaps in the event when they are used by domestic abusers to further their control and torment of the women they’ve imprisoned – as is already happening. The real point is to chill legal conduct, and to prevent the people, mostly women – the sisters, friends, abortion fund staffers, colleagues and local feminists who any abortion patient might turn to for help – from acting on their own moral convictions.The law is punitive, not preventive: it is designed not to intervene in abortions before they happen so much as to punish them after the fact. It is designed, too, to frighten: the very vagueness of these laws, and the fear of punishments for violating them, will inevitably keep those who would assist an abortion from doing so. The point is to threaten with humiliating, ruinous lawsuits and life-altering criminal prosecutions any woman who might act on her conviction that another woman deserves to control her own body. The point is to punish and declare illegal women’s friendship, confidences and feminist solidarity itself.In their attempts to keep women walled inside anti-choice states, and to criminalize both friendship and flight, the abortion travel bans have been compared to the 19th century’s fugitive slave law. I for one believe that American chattel slavery does not make a good comparison; its horrors fail as metaphor. But one does not need to draw any moral equivalence to see the parallels of the emerging political divide. An untenable conflict is arising between states where women are free to control their bodies and states where they are not, and the latter group is not respecting the laws of the former.The nation cannot sustain this division, and it will not: either abortion will soon become legal nationwide, or it will soon be banned nationwide. For their part, the anti-choice movement seems very confident which direction we’re heading.
      Moira Donegan is a Guardian US columnist More

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      in Elections

      In Post-Roe America, Nikki Haley Seeks a New Path on Abortion for G.O.P.

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      In crafting an anti-abortion message that doesn’t alienate moderate Republicans and swing voters, her approach has won both supporters and detractors.In May 2016, Gov. Nikki Haley of South Carolina walked down the aisle of the statehouse, beaming and shaking hands, after signing legislation that would largely outlaw abortion in the state after 20 weeks of pregnancy.Still, she wanted to be sure social conservatives knew where she stood. So her office arranged a second, entirely ceremonial signing a few weeks later at Hidden Treasure Christian School, an evangelical academy for children with disabilities in the heart of South Carolina’s conservative Upstate region.Standing alongside the staunchly anti-abortion lawmakers who sponsored the bill, and flanked by dozens of children, Ms. Haley made clear that her support for their cause was not just political, but also personal.“I am not pro-life because the Republican Party tells me to be,” she said, promoting her support for the ban, which prohibited abortion even in cases of rape or incest. “I’m pro-life because all of us have had experiences of what it means to have one of these special little ones in our life, to lose one, to know what it takes and how hard it is to get one.”Seven years later, Ms. Haley’s abortion politics have not changed much. The same cannot be said for the country.As governor of South Carolina in 2016, Ms. Haley signed a law banning abortion after 20 weeks. She held a ceremonial signing a few weeks later at a Christian school, surrounded by children. Lauren Petracca/Greenville News, via USA Today NetworkAt campaign events, in speeches before anti-abortion groups and from the primary debate stage, Ms. Haley has cast herself as an empathetic seeker of compassionate “consensus” on one of the nation’s most divisive social issues.“We need to stop demonizing this issue,” she said at the first Republican debate in Milwaukee last month. “It’s personal for every woman and man. Now, it’s been put in the hands of the people. That’s great.”The Supreme Court’s overturning of federal abortion rights transformed an issue long considered settled by broad swaths of the American public into a political hammer for Democrats. The rapid shift has forced Ms. Haley and other Republicans to thread the needle between what she calls her “unapologetically pro-life” record and the broad majorities of American voters who support some form of abortion rights.Some Republicans see Ms. Haley as pioneering a path forward on what’s become a damaging issue for their party since the 2022 decision. They believe her message could be acceptable to their party’s conservative, anti-abortion base without alienating moderate Republicans and swing voters. For Ms. Haley, the approach is part of a larger strategy to position herself as a more electable alternative to Donald Trump and Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida.Tudor Dixon, the Republican candidate for governor in Michigan last year, warned that Republicans would lose the messaging fight over abortion again in 2024 unless they adopted a stance similar to Ms. Haley’s that is more focused on compassion and finding common ground. Ms. Dixon lost her own race after facing a barrage of Democratic attacks over her opposition to abortion, including in cases of rape or incest.“Democrats are trying to make anybody who is pro-life the enemy of women,” Ms. Dixon said in an interview. “It felt so good to see a strong, caring woman come at this message from a personal and loving perspective.”Ms. Haley’s approach to abortion is part of a broader campaign strategy to cast herself as a more electable alternative to some of her Republican rivals. Kenny Holston/The New York TimesIn a closed-door meeting this week that was first reported by NBC News, Senate Republicans discussed new polling indicating that voters now saw the term “pro-life” as synonymous with being against abortion with no exceptions, according to a person who attended.The polling, conducted by a super PAC tied to Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, the Senate minority leader, also found that female politicians such as Ms. Haley were better received as messengers for the Republican position on the issue. The group urged Republican senators to do a better job of explaining more nuanced and broadly popular positions, including supporting exceptions to restrictions for rape, incest and the health of the mother.Mr. Trump, the front-runner in the 2024 G.O.P. primary race, has also urged Republicans to embrace less stringent restrictions, while resisting pressure from anti-abortion activists to embrace a 15-week federal ban. Such a ban is widely unpopular: Polling conducted last month by The New York Times/Siena College found that 64 percent of independent voters and 57 percent of female voters oppose it.While she offers little in the way of policy specifics, Ms. Haley flatly dismisses the push for a 15-week federal ban as unrealistic, given that Republicans fall short of the margin needed to pass such a proposal through the Senate. Instead, Ms. Haley stakes out broad areas of what she sees as national agreement, including a ban on “late term” abortions, encouraging adoption, providing contraception and not criminalizing women who have the procedure.Those efforts by Ms. Haley and others to soften their approach face opposition from more strident anti-abortion activists, who view the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe as a starting point on the issue, not the end of it.“We need a national defender of life who will boldly articulate their pro-life position,” said Marjorie Dannenfelser, the head of Susan B. Anthony Pro-Life America, a prominent anti-abortion political group. “The pro-life movement must have a nominee who will boldly advocate for consensus in Congress, and as president will work to gather the votes necessary in Congress. Dismissing this task as unrealistic is not acceptable.”Supporters and campaign strategists say Ms. Haley’s approach reflects her personal experiences. In college, she watched a friend worry that her rape would result in an unwanted pregnancy. She later struggled with infertility, and underwent fertility treatments to have her two children. Her husband, Michael Haley, was adopted as a young child, an experience that made him, she said, “reason No. 1” for her opposition to abortion.“I don’t know if any of the others on that debate stage or Trump can do what she has done, and go out there and talk about this in this way where it’s understanding and compassionate and empathic and it’s coming from a position of real knowledge,” said Jennifer Nassour, the former head of the Massachusetts Republican Party, who is backing Ms. Haley. “She’s the only leader who can take such a divisive issue and bring everyone together on it.”Ms. Haley’s record tells a slightly more complicated story. During her time in South Carolina, Ms. Haley pushed her conservative state to restrict and limit abortion access.As a state legislator, she backed bills mandating ultrasound tests and a 24-hour waiting period before an abortion could be performed. In 2005, she voted for a bill granting constitutional rights of due process and equal protection to a zygote, the fertilized egg cell that forms after conception. And, four years later, she co-sponsored legislation mandating that a “right to life” begins at the point when a sperm cell fertilizes an egg, several weeks before a pregnancy can generally be detected.Such bills have been used by opponents of abortion to try to grant constitutional rights to embryos and fetuses. Those fetal personhood laws, as they are broadly known, could provide a legal framework not just for banning abortion but for limiting access to in vitro fertilization and contraception.“My record on abortion is long and clear,” Ms. Haley said in an April speech to the Susan B. Anthony anti-abortion group. “I voted for every pro-life bill that came before me.”After she became governor in 2011, Ms. Haley backed legislation granting a fetus that survives a failed abortion — a rare occurrence — the same medical treatment rights as a person. She signed a law prohibiting private insurance companies from covering an abortion procedure without the purchase of a separate policy rider. And she signed the 20-week ban in 2016.In 2016, Wendy Nanny, the sponsor of the 20-week ban in the state legislature, saw the legislation as a step toward the ultimate goal of ending abortion rights in America. Ms. Haley, she said, backed that effort.“She was always supportive of anything we tried to do that was pro-life,” Ms. Nanny said. “I never had any kind of pushback from her office.”That anti-abortion record could be hard for Ms. Haley — and other Republicans who supported similar legislation across the country for years — to outrun in a general election. In the decade before Roe was overturned, Republican legislators enacted roughly 600 laws restricting abortion, according to the Guttmacher Institute, a reproductive health research group that supports abortion rights. Voters view those records differently in the post-Roe world, in which abortion is now all but banned in 18 states, including South Carolina.Molly Murphy, a Democratic pollster, doubted whether Ms. Haley could square her “respectful and middle-ground, compromise approach” with a decade-long record of “actually not doing that when in office.” Republicans, she said, have far to go before voters will give them the benefit of the doubt on the issue.“Those candidates trying to walk back their previous positions on abortion look incredibly political and non-trustworthy,” Ms. Murphy said. “Their credibility is so low on this issue that voters just fundamentally believe Republicans want to ban abortion.”But for now, as she tries to win a Republican primary, Ms. Haley’s message is finding an audience among voters seeking an alternative to Mr. Trump. As she waited for Ms. Haley to speak in Manchester, N.H., on Wednesday, Betty Gay, a Republican former state representative, praised her approach.“I think abortion is a horrible form of birth control, but there are some circumstances that require it,” said Ms. Gay, who was still undecided about the primary but does not plan on backing Mr. Trump. “I don’t want either of the extremes.” More

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      in US Politics

      Florida supreme court to hear abortion case that could drastically limit access

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      The Florida supreme court on Friday will hear arguments in a case that could drastically limit abortion access in the south-eastern United States.Abortion providers in Florida filed a lawsuit to block the state’s ban on abortion after 15 weeks of pregnancy.If the state’s high court upholds the 15-week ban, a separate, stricter law would take effect prohibiting abortion after six weeks, before most people know they are pregnant.“It would be devastating for providers to have to turn even more folks away under a six-week ban,” said Whitney White, a staff attorney with the ACLU’s Reproductive Freedom Project. “They’re already having to turn away patients under the current 15-week ban.”Friday’s hearing is the culmination of Republican efforts to end Florida’s legacy as a safe haven for abortion seekers in neighboring states. Five of the seven justices on the current state supreme court were selected by the conservative governor, Ron DeSantis, fueling the concerns of Floridians who support abortion access.After signing the six-week trigger ban into effect in April, Governor DeSantis said in a brief statement that he was “proud to support life and family in the state of Florida”. The Florida governor has been hesitant to discuss abortion on the campaign trial.A whopping 62% of American adults believe abortions should be legal in “all or most cases”, according to a 2022 report published by Pew Research Center. A 2020 Ipsos/Reuters poll found that 56% of likely voters in Florida believe abortion should be legal in most cases. And abortion rights supporters in Florida say the bans violate the explicit privacy protections found in the state constitution.Despite DeSantis’s conservative overhaul of the state’s high court, White remained confident about the case in the run-up to Friday’s hearing.“No justice of the Florida supreme court has ever written a decision questioning the conclusion that abortion rights are protected by the privacy clause,” White said.Florida Republicans passed the 15-week ban on abortion in April 2022, months before the US supreme court ended the federal right to abortion. That same month, a judge revived a 2015 state law that mandated patients wait 24 hours between getting an initial consultation for an abortion and undergoing the procedure.“It’s been one restriction after another,” said Dr Kanthi Dhaduvai, a Jacksonville abortion provider with Physicians for Reproductive Health.Dhaduvai felt “nervous and frustrated” about the hearing, fearing a court ruling that would make it impossible for her patients to receive “what is often life-saving care”.skip past newsletter promotionafter newsletter promotionRoughly half of Dhaduvai’s patients come to Florida from states like Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama – even Texas.“I think a lot of people are not aware as to how dangerous this could be, not just for Florida, but the entire region,” she said. “Florida has been a huge access point for people, we already have people traveling these great distances to get care.”In the months after the US supreme court overturned Roe v Wade, Florida saw the greatest increase in the number of legal abortions performed per month, according to a report released this April from the Society of Family Planning.“I’m still providing care and I’m going to continue providing care, within legal limits, even after the decision,” Dhaduvai said. More

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      in US Politics

      Texas law aims to punish prosecutors who refuse to pursue abortion cases

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      After the supreme court overturned Roe v Wade last year, district attorneys from major counties in Texas vowed not to vigorously prosecute people under the state’s anti-abortion laws.Now, Texas has a plan to punish them if they don’t fall in line.On Friday, Texas will enact Senate Bill 20, a law that forbids prosecutors from adopting a “policy” of refusing to prosecute particular types of crimes, such as abortion cases. Under the new law, these policies constitute “official misconduct” and could lead to prosecutors being removed from office.This kind of legislation flies in the face of prosecutors’ normal ability to choose whether and how to pursue cases, said Miriam Krinsky, executive director of Fair and Just Prosecution, an organization that works to support local prosecutors. Krinsky called the new law “scare tactics”.“This is not about seeking to see enforcement of laws,” said Krinsky, a former federal prosecutor. “This is about trying to erode the rights of individuals to make choices around their own personal healthcare. And that is incredibly sad, because the collateral damage of that political agenda is the erosion of democratic principles.”Laws like Senate Bill 20 are the latest volley in a long series of battles about the role of small government in regulating abortion. Before the supreme court overturned Roe and abolished national protections for abortion rights, opponents of the procedure had long argued that states should be allowed to write their own abortion laws. Now, however, some powerful anti-abortion groups like Susan B Anthony Pro-Life America are calling for federal abortion restrictions, such as a 15-week ban.Texas is far from the only state where prosecutors have said that they will refuse to go after people for violating abortion bans. Within days of Roe’s overturning, 90 elected prosecutors released a statement – organized by Fair and Just Prosecution –publicly announcing that they would “refrain from prosecuting those who seek, provide, or support abortions”. (US abortion bans typically penalize individuals who provide abortions or help others get the procedure, rather than abortion patients.)Of those 90 prosecutors, five are district attorneys from Texas, which currently outlaws almost all abortions. Three of those prosecutors’ offices did not immediately return a request for comment on the new Texas law or what it may mean for their pledge. One declined to comment.Wesley Wittig, a spokesperson for the Fort Bend county district attorney, Brian Middleton, said that Middleton’s office reviews every case.“We do not, and have not, had any policies that categorically refuse to consider a specific type of crime,” Wittig said in an email. Fort Bend county includes parts of the Houston metropolitan area.The Nueces county district attorney, Mark Gonzalez, whose jurisdiction includes Corpus Christi, Texas, told Rolling Stone this week that he still believed no one should be prosecuted for making a personal decision like having an abortion. But, Gonzalez added: “We don’t have any actual policies in place that say: ‘We will not take this case or take case.’”Republicans in at least three other states introduced legislation this year that would undermine prosecutors’ power to refuse to pursue abortion cases. But Democrats are also trying to curtail local officials’ ability to handle abortion cases: Earlier this summer, the Democratic Arizona governor, Katie Hobbs, signed an executive order stripping local prosecutors of their ability to charge abortion providers. More

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      in US Politics

      Abortion providers on two years of Texas ban: ‘We’re living in a devastating reality’

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      Nearly a year before the US supreme court eviscerated Roe v Wade, the court allowed an unprecedented abortion ban to take effect in Texas, serving as a harbinger of what was to sweep over the rest of the country.The most restrictive abortion law at the time, with no exception for rape, incest, or lethal fetal abnormality, Senate Bill 8 barred care after six weeks of pregnancy, and carried a private enforcement provision that empowered anyone to sue a provider or someone who “aids or abets” the procedure.The move successfully wiped out almost all abortion care in the second-most populous state in the US. When Dobbs v Jackson Women’s Health Organization hit, the state doubled down, criminally banning all care and solidifying itself as the largest state in the US to outlaw abortion.In the two years since, Texas abortion providers – some of the first in the US to experience a nearly post-Roe world – reflect on the devastating and lasting effect of the severe law, the trauma they felt denying patients care, and the struggle they faced when deciding whether or not to flee the state or stay put.Dr Jessica Rubino: ‘The law forced me to be a bad doctor’ When Senate Bill 8 took effect, Dr Rubino felt like she was on a “sinking ship”. The abortion provider and family medicine specialist was forced to turn away dozens of patients at Austin Women’s Health Center – including one who was experiencing kidney failure. At the same time, patients below the six-week mark were rushing to choose abortion care before it was too late, leaving thoughtful decision-making behind.“I had to tell people there’s nothing I can legally do for you, unless you’re on death’s doorstep,” said Rubino. “The law forced me to be a bad doctor.”“It was heartbreaking and soul-crushing,” she continued. “I was watching a healthcare disaster play out in real time, knowing that this law not only affects our state but is causing a ripple effect in every other state. With SB 8 – and even years before the law – we saw the writing on the wall with Roe and tried to warn everyone, but I’m not sure who was listening.”Rubino also recalled a conversation she had six months prior to SB 8 with colleagues across the state who appeared united, vowing to continue providing care despite the law’s consequences. People are going to die, she told them, we should take the “personal hit”. However, that wave of defiance never materialized. Rubino lacked critical mass.She soon fell into an “extreme” depression; it was difficult to get out of bed each day and she eventually sought mental health therapy and antidepressants. Her brain felt “broken”, she said. After Dobbs, she stopped performing abortion for nearly a year, exacerbating her gloom.“Having to deny patients the healthcare you are trained – and able – to give them is something you never get over. It’s not only medically unethical, it’s morally wrong,” said Rubino. “It was traumatizing, and it still haunts me.”SB 8, she said, was the tipping point for abortion providers in Texas like her who have been forced to navigate onerous laws over the years that compromise the care they give, including a mandatory sonogram and 24-hour waiting period that incorporates relaying erroneous medical information, bans on insurance coverage for care, restrictions on minors’ access to abortion, and more.In May, under the advice of attorneys and those closest to her, Rubino and her family left Texas with no plans to return. She worked at a clinic in Bristol, Virginia, where she largely served patients in banned southern states, before moving to DC in late August to help expand abortion services at a reproductive health clinic there.Rubino still struggles with the decision to flee Texas, while also acknowledging the legal inability to continue her calling.“There is a sense of guilt, of letting down the community I serve. Sometimes I feel like I gave up on these people,” she said.She also worries that a national abortion ban could once again pull her away from the community she now treats. She considers one day working in the UK or New Zealand.Rubino feels deeply anxious about the fate of the patients she has left behind and mentioned a recurring patient, a victim of domestic violence, whose partner blocked her access to birth control.“She’s going to call and I’m not going to be there,” said Rubino. “She’s not in a safe situation and we know staying pregnant can lead to more abuse, and even death by an abusive partner. The safest thing for her would be to get an abortion but now she’s not going to have that choice.”Dr Ghazaleh Moayedi: ‘Inhumane and illogical’ Testifying before Congress three separate times to oppose abortion bans and uplift the right to access, Dr Ghazaleh Moayedi has made her mark as an outspoken and passionate reproductive justice advocate for Texans.But the road wasn’t always clear for the doctor: unsure of what to do after graduating college, Moayedi’s friend recommended she take a nanny job. Her boss was Amy Hagstrom-Miller, the head of a network of abortion clinics and then major figure in Texas reproductive rights who would go on to lead several legal challenges against the state, including a 2016 US supreme court victory. Moayedi began working in Miller’s clinic, where she saw her interests collide.As a “brown, Muslim” n Iranian American woman who grew up in Texas, Moayedi quickly realized the majority of state abortion doctors – largely white men – did not reflect the diversity of the patients they treated, and vowed to fix that.“I could feel a palpable racial and cultural divide,” she said. “None of the doctors looked like the people we take care of. I wanted to be a provider that helped represent the communities we serve. I decided to go to medical school with that goal as a driving force.”Moayedi has worked in Texas abortion care since 2014, weathering the roller coaster of state abortion laws, including a 2020 order to ban abortion under the pretense of the Covid emergency, which, at the time, upended her plans to start her own practice.After SB 8, she transitioned her care to Oklahoma. When Oklahoma’s abortion law took effect, she switched gears, providing ultrasounds in Texas to those traveling to and from out-of-state abortion care. Moayedi then became uncertain if she could safely venture to states where abortion was still legal, as the Texas attorney general, Ken Paxton, encouraged local prosecutors to go after providers shortly after Roe fell. She and abortion funds sued the state for legal protection, and paused their services in the meantime.After securing a court victory, Moayedi has worked to build an abortion and miscarriage telemedicine practice, still in the process of getting off the ground. She is now licensed in 20 states – but only half allow abortion telemed. She also travels to Kansas, a safe haven state, to provide care.“I’ve had to really pivot quite a bit. It’s been absolutely wild,” she said. “My practice doesn’t look anything like I thought it would. For now, my goal is to stay in Texas but we’ll see what happens.”Moayedi says the law’s “inhumane and illogical” impact is especially pronounced when she is treating a patient in another state only to discover they’re from not just the same city as her, but the same neighborhood.“Here we both are, hundreds of miles away from our home and support system, just to receive healthcare,” she said. “Moments like those just hit you in the gut.”As a complex family planning specialist, Moayedi constantly worries for patients with “potentially catastrophic” high-risk pregnancies, especially as the Texas law offers only vague medical emergency exceptions, leading patients to near-death experiences. She receives calls from colleagues wondering if pregnant patients with complications, like C-section scar ectopic pregnancies, can receive care in Texas. She often refers them out of state to be safe.“I really don’t have words to describe the deep, deep pain I feel,” said Moayedi. “These laws are insulting, disgusting, cruel, and absolutely pointless.”The provider and advocate expresses disappointment with the federal administration, who she feels has failed to meaningfully protect abortion providers and patients since SB 8 took effect.“The Biden administration’s response has been a limp handshake,” she said. “We want to see tangible, bold action to restore or at least prevent the further erosion of reproductive rights. We need unwavering support – not a leader who can barely say the word ‘abortion’.”Kathy Kleinfeld: ‘SB 8 was meant to be a fear tactic that paralyzed care’ Kathy Kleinfeld will never forget the desperation that swept over Houston Women’s Reproductive Services after SB 8 took effect. Anxious patients begged her and her staff to perform abortion care past the six-week mark, even offering money under the table and other favors.“They were crying and pleading with us, saying ‘I’ll do whatever you want,’” said Kleinfeld. “It was so heartbreaking, there was nothing we could do.”Patients – as well as clinic staff – held their breath during each ultrasound, hoping the pregnancy would fall under the state-mandated time frame. For those past the mark, Kleinfeld and colleagues became “dystopian travel agents” connecting patients with out-of-state care.After 30 years of providing abortion in Houston, Kleinfeld had never experienced anything so chaotic and devastating. Then Dobbs hit.“It felt like everything we experienced with SB 8 was magnified – it was like SB 8 on steroids,” said Kleinfeld. “The intensity, the confusion, the chaos all became so overwhelming.”While she was forced to halt abortion care, Kleinfeld did not want to leave her patients behind. One month after the fall of Roe, she regrouped, considerably downsizing her 5,000 sq-ft clinic and cutting her staff by more than half. She now provides pre- and post- abortion ultrasounds for those traveling out of state, as well as abortion clinic referrals. Her clinic is only one of two former independent abortion providers in Texas – and just a handful across the US – that have not closed or moved away.“We did not want to completely abandon pregnant people in Houston,” said Kleinfeld. “We felt it was still really important to adapt and provide this necessary service. It feels absolutely awful to not be able to offer abortion care, but at the same time, we feel grateful to be able to still help patients in whatever way we can.”Her clinic received around 1,200 visits this year, with most traveling to and from New Mexico, Colorado and Kansas.The fear unleashed by SB 8 two years ago still lingers today: Patients are scared to disclose that they want or have had an abortion; they are fearful to bring a partner or family member with them to a procedure out-of-state or even to the ultrasound at Kleinfeld’s clinic, worrying that a loved one may be in legal trouble for “aiding or abetting” care.“We still have to explain to patients all the time that it is not illegal to help someone obtain a legal abortion,” said Kleinfeld. “SB 8 was meant to be a fear tactic that paralyzed care and instilled anxiety in patients, and even after Dobbs, we are still seeing its impact.”Dr Alan Braid and Andrea Gallegos: ‘Waving our hands hands on top of a burning building’As a medical resident in 1972, Dr Alan Braid will never forget treating a 15-year-old girl in a San Antonio emergency room who was suffering from sepsis – a life-threatening blood infection – after a botched and illegal abortion, her vaginal cavity packed with rags. Braid and doctors did everything they could but the infection was so severe, she died a few days later from massive organ failure. That year, he saw another two teenagers die from illegal abortions.It was then that Braid realized that abortion care was vital and medically necessary, an inextricable component of overall healthcare. One year later, Roe would help solidify and protect Braid’s mission.For the next 45 years, he provided ob-gyn and abortion care in Texas. When Senate Bill 8 hit, it felt like 1972 all over again, he said.“To repeat history and expect a different outcome is insanity. Women will be injured and women will die – again – without access to healthcare,” said Braid.With a passion for reproductive rights, Andrea Gallegos joined her father’s practice as manager of Alamo Women’s Reproductive Services a few years ago. She describes the impact of SB 8 as “devastating” to patients, many of whom were saddled with multiple barriers to care. Even when staff would offer to pay for travel or the procedure itself, patients – still bound by the inability to find child care or time off work – couldn’t make the journey out of state.Braid felt like he had to fight back. In an act of overt defiance, the provider performed an abortion on a patient beyond the six-week limit. He was not only acting out of medical duty but hoped to invoke a legal challenge that would eventually halt SB 8.“I don’t think any of us really thought SB 8 would last – it’s so blatantly unconstitutional and just crazy, we figured the courts – even a court as conservative as the fifth circuit – would recognize the law needs to be stopped,” said Gallegos.While Braid’s intentional act of resistance attracted an outpouring of nationwide support, the lawsuits against him ultimately failed to halt SB 8, leaving the provider feeling largely defeated.He and his team continued to navigate the draconian law, routinely sending patients to their Tulsa, Oklahoma, clinic, where the caseload tripled within the first couple of months, placing a strain on the out-of-state provider.When Oklahoma’s governor signed into law an abortion ban – modeled after Texas’s SB 8 – in April 2022, Braid was forced to shutter the critical pipeline for Texans.“It felt like we were waving our hands on top of a burning building, trying to warn everyone else that this is what it’s going to look like for the rest of the country soon,” said Gallegos. “While we see the lack of access, the forced travel, the domino effect on surrounding clinics now everyday post-Dobbs, in Texas we were experiencing it first.”Following Roe’s demise, Braid was forced to close the doors to his San Antonio clinic and stopped practicing abortion care in Texas after nearly five decades. In May, he officially moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico, where he has set up a clinic in the safe haven state.Gallegos relocated to Carbondale, Illinois, in July, a spot nestled between abortion-hostile states, to oversee a new clinic there.Leaving Texas – and friends and family behind – is deeply “bittersweet” for the father-daughter duo: there is a sense of “abandonment” but also a recognition that the move was necessary.“It’s not easy to completely start over but I know this is where I’m supposed to be,” said Gallegos.For the abortion providers, it’s also a painful reminder of the growing inequity of reproductive healthcare across the US.“It hits me hard knowing geography has played such a significant role in privilege to access to what I consider basic healthcare,” said Gallegos. “Geography should not determine if you can have a safe or dangerous pregnancy. We are living in a devastating reality.”Braid, now in his late 70s, describes working in New Mexico as “refreshing”, as he can “just be a doctor” and not “have to call attorneys” for guidance every step of the way, as he did in Texas.However, he has left his home state – and the place where he learned to be a physician so many years ago – with a tinge of regret, wishing he not only provided one abortion in violation of SB 8, but several more, convinced that the act of rebellion would have eventually led to a successful court battle that brought down the law. His daughter seeks to allay his remorse.“I remind my dad that the law was so unprecedented, so hard to predict and navigate, none of us knew what would happen,” said Gallegos. “In the end, the whole point of SB 8 was to elicit fear in abortion providers and sadly, that’s exactly what it did.” More

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      in US Politics

      Ohio Republicans accused of trying to mislead voters with abortion ballot wording

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      Abortion rights advocates in Ohio filed a lawsuit on Monday, claiming that state Republican leaders are trying to confuse voters on a ballot measure about access to reproductive healthcare.Last week, the Ohio ballot board – led by the Republican secretary of state, Frank LaRose – approved the wording of Issue 1, a November ballot measure that will ask voters if the state constitution should guarantee a right to abortion, contraception, fertility treatment and miscarriage care.The new lawsuit accuses the ballot board’s Republican majority of presenting voters with a confusing summary of Issue 1 in an attempt “to mislead Ohioans and persuade them to oppose the amendment”.According to the lawsuit filed with the Ohio supreme court, the ballot board was asked to “put the clear, simple 194-word text of the Amendment itself on the ballot, so that voters could see exactly what they were being asked to approve”.Instead, the board approved a summary of the amendment that is longer than the amendment itself, replacing the term “fetus” with “unborn child”. The summary also does not mention the other forms of reproductive healthcare guaranteed by the amendment, like access to contraception and fertility treatments.The summary does not change the content of the constitutional amendment itself, but abortion rights advocates worry that it will mislead voters at the ballot box, dissuading Ohioans from supporting Issue 1.“The ballot board’s members adopted politicized, distorted language for the amendment, exploiting their authority in a last-ditch effort to deceive and confuse Ohio voters ahead of the November vote on reproductive freedom,” said Lauren Blauvelt, a spokesperson for Ohioans United for Reproductive Rights, the abortion rights coalition leading the lawsuit.The legal battle over the language of the Ohio ballot measure is the latest attempt to block voters from passing a state constitutional amendment on reproductive rights.Earlier this month, Ohio Republicans held a costly special election in an attempt to make it more difficult for voters to amend the state constitution. In a resounding failure for the Ohio GOP, voters overwhelmingly rejected the proposal, opting to keep the current method of passing citizen-led amendments.A recent poll from USA Today Network/Suffolk University showed rising support for a state constitutional amendment protecting the right to abortion.LaRose last week tweeted that the amendment was a move from “the radical left”.In the ballot board meeting, LaRose told members that he thought his summary of the amendment was “fair and accurate”.“We tried to summarize that the best way we can and make it a clear statement here in the ballot language of what this amendment would actually do,” he said.LaRose, an avowed abortion opponent, launched his campaign for US Senate last month.The Ohio Capital Journal revealed that LaRose’s campaign received a $1m donation from a new soft-money group established by the conservative lawyer David Langson, who also funded at least two additional campaigns to block the passage of the reproductive rights amendment.Other Ohio Republicans – like the state attorney general, Dave Yost – share LaRose’s staunch opposition to abortion.But the lawsuit commended the attorney general for setting aside his personal views on abortion to “lawfully and impartially” complete his “amendment-related duties”.In March, Yost approved the summary language of the amendment submitted by abortion rights advocates, writing in a certification letter that the language was a “fair and truthful” explanation of the proposed changes to the Ohio constitution.“My personal views on abortion are publicly known,” Yost wrote.But the attorney general added that he could not “use the authority” of his office to unfairly influence state policy.He added: “Elected office is not a license to simply do what one wishes.” More

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      in Elections

      The Story Behind DeSantis’s Anecdote About an ‘Abortion Survivor’

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      Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida has been retelling Miriam Hopper’s 1955 birth story. The details are jarring, highly unusual and unverifiable.Ron DeSantis wanted to dodge a debate question about a six-week federal abortion ban. So the Florida governor pulled out a personal story, one that had recently become part of his pitch to voters on the need for greater regulation of abortion rights.“I know a lady in Florida named Penny,” he said. “She survived multiple abortion attempts. She was left discarded in a pan. Fortunately, her grandmother saved her and brought her to a different hospital.” He then pivoted to attack Democrats for their abortion “extremism.”The jarring anecdote caught the attention of viewers on social media, who speculated that Mr. DeSantis was fabricating the story.But Penny does exist. Mr. DeSantis’s campaign says the governor has met her. She is Miriam Hopper, who goes by Penny and is an anti-abortion activist who lives in Florida and calls herself an “abortion survivor.”The details of Ms. Hopper’s birth in 1955 are impossible to verify. But at least one prominent obstetrician noted that medical advances and practices had changed so dramatically in the nearly seven decades since then that her story had little relevance for the current debate about abortion rights and policy. At the time of her birth, abortion was illegal. Even an attempted abortion could have resulted in fines and imprisonment for a provider.Ms. Hopper did not return a call for comment this week. But she told her story in an online video posted by Protect Life Michigan, an anti-abortion advocacy group. The video, part of a broader campaign, was posted in September 2022 amid a campaign against a ballot initiative that would enshrine abortion rights in Michigan’s Constitution. So-called abortion survivors have been a staple of the anti-abortion movement for years, frequently appearing in campaign ads and testifying on Capitol Hill in favor of federal abortion bans.According to Ms. Hopper, her mother sought medical care at a clinic in central Florida in 1955 because of bleeding and other complications. She was 23 weeks pregnant, right at the outer edge of when a fetus is considered able to survive outside the womb. The doctor who examined Ms. Hopper’s mother said he could not hear a heartbeat. He induced labor, she said.“You do not want this baby to live — if it lives, it will be a burden on you all of your life,” Ms. Hopper says the doctor told her parents before instructing a nurse to discard the baby — “dead or alive.”Ms. Hopper said she had weighed one pound 11 ounces at her birth. The nurse “placed me in a bedpan on the back porch of the clinic,” she said. When her grandmother and aunt arrived, they found Ms. Hopper. Her grandmother called the police. A nurse helped take Ms. Hopper to a hospital in Lakeland, Fla., where she survived several bouts of pneumonia.Ms. Hopper’s mother, aunt, father and grandmother have died. It does not appear that the incident was covered in news reports.After an extended stay, Ms. Hopper went home and had a “great life.” She married her high school sweetheart, had two children of her own and has seven grandchildren. “Life has value, and all lives matter,” she said, at the end of the video.In a 2013 interview with the Florida radio station WFSU, conducted in the middle of a statehouse debate over new abortion restrictions, Ms. Hopper said that her story was based on what she had been told by her family. She said that her father, raised during the Great Depression, did not want another child and that she suspected a botched abortion had sent her mother to the hospital with the complications.Diane Horvath, an obstetrician and gynecologist who performs abortions until 34 weeks at a clinic in Maryland, said it was difficult to parse Ms. Hopper’s account.“There’s a lot of parts of this story that don’t make sense to me,” she said, noting that 68 years ago, physicians had lacked the current-day technologies to keep very premature babies alive.In the 1950s, death was “virtually ensured” when an infant was delivered at or before 24 weeks of gestation, according to a report published in 2017 by the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists and the Society for Maternal-Fetal Medicine.By contrast, a study conducted last year by a team of neonatologists found that nearly 56 percent of infants who are born at 23 weeks survive — if they receive aggressive treatment in a neonatal intensive care unit.Even if Ms. Hopper’s story is accurate, it’s not particularly germane to a discussion of current abortion practices or regulations, Dr. Horvath said.“It doesn’t represent the reality of medical practice at this moment,” she said. “It’s not really relevant to what we should be talking about when we talk about access to abortion.”Fewer than 1 percent of abortions occur after 21 weeks’ gestation, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Such procedures are generally difficult to receive, with only a limited number of facilities offering them.The Republican presidential primary debate wasn’t the first time Mr. DeSantis had told a version of this story. He debuted the narrative last weekend at a town hall in Nashua, N.H., amid a shift in his messaging that was meant to evoke a more personal touch.The moment came in response to a question from a voter who described himself as a “traditional Catholic” and asked Mr. DeSantis, who has signed a six-week abortion ban in Florida and has tried to dodge questions on whether he supports a similar ban nationwide, how he would “protect the life of the unborn.”Mr. DeSantis said he had met “Penny” in person in central Florida, and then launching into a similar version of the story he told on Wednesday night, including the details about Ms. Hopper’s grandmother and the pan, and trying to paint Democrats as the extremists on abortion.“You know, that’s a very callous thing to happen,” Mr. DeSantis said. Most Democratic officeholders say the government should not legislate such decisions and should leave them to a woman and her doctor.Ryan Tyson, a top DeSantis campaign adviser, said the governor was making an effort to talk more about the people he had encountered on the trail. His campaign did not provide details about the circumstances of his meeting with Ms. Hopper.“He’s out there — he’s meeting people,” Mr. Tyson said in an interview after the debate. “He’s hearing their stories as he gets across the country. And I think that’s why you saw he had a moment there, because it does take a toll on you.” More