Page 2378 - Week 07 - Thursday, 4 August 2022
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these rights; on the other hand we are criticising the United States for having a similar approach. I am just trying to work through that in my own mind as to how that would work.
It is important to note that this motion is about supporting women and people affected by the overturning of Roe v Wade. It is not proposing any changes here in the ACT. It is an expression of support.
Today, I want to share a personal story about how Roe v Wade has touched my life. This is my own story. It does not necessarily reflect the views of others in this place, in my own party room. It is my story, and I acknowledge that my experience and views may not be shared by all.
Many years ago, as a young woman—I know to some it may be hard to believe that I was once a young woman—I lived in the United States for a few years. During that time I was married with young children, and I found out that I was pregnant again. For a variety of reasons, my gynaecologist and I decided that a surgical termination was the best course of action for me.
At this time Roe v Wade was in place. Abortion in the US was perfectly legal. Sadly, this did not mean that the process was at all sensitive, considerate or easy for those going through it. There were processes to go through. There was counselling, it included being shown photos of aborted fetuses in buckets and on floors in clinics. It included questionnaires and mental health assessments. It included a cooling-off period.
After going through all of this, on the day of the appointment I drove myself downtown, parked my car a few blocks away and walked towards the clinic. But as I approached the building, I found that my steps slowed right down, and I was experiencing a lot of fear.
I would like to be quite clear on this point, Mr Assistant Speaker. This was not about regretting or changing my mind. It was not about changing my decision to have an abortion. It was because, outside the clinic, I could see a large crowd—an angry, noisy, ugly crowd of about 100 people; a crowd with placards who were chanting slogans, screaming obscenities, and throwing things at the windows of the clinic, including buckets of blood. Possibly it was paint; possibly it was pigs’ blood. I really did not know. I had to go through this crowd. I was jostled, jeered, grabbed and pushed, with people screaming and spitting in my face.
Hours later, I had to go out through the same crowd. Perhaps it was not exactly the same people, but it was the same ugly, noisy, hateful people. When I say “hateful”, I mean that they were full of hate, not that I hated them. They were full of hate. It was a violent atmosphere, and I feared for my life and for my personal safety. I feared for my personal safety because at that time in the United States there were many instances of car bombings, murders and arson attacks on clinics. It was a horrific time.
I would like to reiterate that I was a married woman with a family. It was a very difficult decision. Just imagine, if you were a young woman with no other support going through that, how traumatic that would be. These people, though, knew nothing
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