Today in Arizona

By now you’ve likely read about the near total abortion ban passed by the Arizona Supreme Court. You’ve seen posts by activists filled with rage over this callous decision that will undoubtedly put lives at risk - I’ve posted some myself. You’ve seen the bullshit reaction of people like Kari Lake who liked the idea of an abortion ban until she didn’t, because she recognizes that supporting such a thing will now impact her ability to get elected.

There’s a lot of noise right now, and we absolutely should be raising holy hell about this decision. We should be screaming from the rooftops that these so-called exceptions for the life of the pregnant person don’t really seem to provide much protection - think Kate Cox’s harrowing experience in Texas.

Thanks for reading Ruth Zakarin’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

But I want to tell some of the quieter stories, the ones I don’t tend to see in the news coverage. They are stories that don’t often make it into the public discourse. They don’t get told, because so often they are too painful for the storytellers to share. And this is where I invite you to stop reading if stories of sexual assault are too painful for you to bear. Because I want to talk about what happens when victims of rape and incest are denied access to abortion, which is exactly what the Arizona abortion ban will do. I want to talk about what that will do to the youngest victims, the girls and young women who have been impregnated through sexual assault and incest.

I want to talk about them, because I know them.

For over 25 years I worked with survivors of domestic and sexual violence. I ran a rape crisis program, oversaw shelters, and led a trauma response program for children and teens. And I provided counseling and advocacy support to more victims than I could possibly count. When I hear politicians speak cavalierly about the impact of rape or the supposed beauty of a pregnancy no matter its origin, I can feel my blood pressure go sky high. Because this isn’t an academic issue or a political football. I can picture the faces and remember the tears of girls and young women who had experienced unspeakable trauma. I remember those who couldn’t speak at all. I remember middle school aged girls who gave birth after being raped by their biological father, foster father, uncle, cousin, older family friend. I remember the girl who was living with a much older man after being abandoned by her family and how shocked she was by her pregnancy. She had used birth control and thought she was doing the right things to protect herself. And I remember my shock when I discovered that she knew so little about her own body that she used the birth control horribly wrong and it provided no protection whatsoever. I remember being with her at the hospital after she gave birth. She refused to hold the baby when the baby was brought to her - because she didn’t want to believe the baby was real. I remember another teen that cried when she told me she couldn’t look at her toddler because the child looked so much like her rapist. I remember the young woman who was so dissociated after years of being sexually abused by her father she couldn’t safely parent the resulting child. I remember the girl who gave birth shortly before her 13th birthday asking me if she could come home with me. She wanted me to take care of her baby, but she wanted me to take care of her too. I will remember that girl for the rest of my life.

Here’s what I also remember. Not only did these girls and young women have to deal with the trauma of the sexual assault, the pregnancies were traumatic too. Their young bodies - already violated - were going through so many changes that they never asked for. Sexual assault is a profound loss of power over one’s body. Then you add an unwanted pregnancy and then you have an even deeper sense that your body is no longer yours. How does a 12, 13, or 14 year old even begin to process that? Every time a politician says that a rape victim should carry the pregnancy and just “give the baby up for adoption” I want to scream at the sheer disregard for the complexity of trauma these victims have experienced, and the additional trauma heaped on them by forcing them to endure the pregnancy.

I am telling you these stories because I can’t tell them to the justices of the Arizona Supreme Court. And I fear they wouldn’t listen anyway. I also don’t think I’m likely to change the hearts and minds of the extremist politicians who wax philosophical about the sanctity of pregnancy no matter the circumstance. Here’s who I do want to reach. All those talking about the Arizona decision as political calculus - please don’t. If the conversation is about how this increases the chances of democratic candidates winning this November, let’s let those takes lie quietly. Because those takes cause harm. There are real people whose very real lives will be forever impacted by this craven decision. There are real girls who will experience the trauma of not just sexual assault, but a subsequent forced pregnancy. And when you post that comment or write that article talking about how this helps Biden’s chances, you can assume that a real survivor will eventually read it.

But mostly I want to tell you these stories because these girls, now adults, should never be forgotten. And because there are more girls that will have such stories to share. Stories written by the Arizona Supreme Court.

Thanks for reading Ruth Zakarin’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.