Perhaps this uncomfortable experience is more apropos with this election cycle. Mostly, this was uncomfortable because one doesn’t often spend hours listening to people you don’t agree with a real-time, face-to-face, and in an open manner where there are high distrust and tension among two groups, one of which you belong to. I’m not a religious, pro-life person at all, but okay, I listened and talked with the religious pro-lifers. Why not.
Neither side of this “debate” had spent much time with the other side, I learned, and this is unfortunate because as noted below, both sides have crystallized their disdain for the other such that police are now involved.
Special thanks to Vanessa Vee for pointing me to this experience.
Here’s the situation that was detailed to me. Every Thursday and Saturday morning, women wanting an abortion to come to this clinic by appointment to have the procedure done. Every Thursday and Saturday morning, a group of pro-life protestors or “counselors” as some refer to themselves as, situate themselves in the parking lot of said clinic. Once a female parks her car (and apparently looks pregnant), the protestors swarm the car. Statements such as “You are a murderer,” “we love you,” and “we will pay for your baby’s college” are some of the statements shouted and other times said quietly. The “escorts” were implemented by the clinic to help the pregnant women navigate these intrusive situations. The escorts also led the women into the correct door because there is another “business” NEXT STORE, called the “Pregnancy Resource Center,” that seems to be similar to the services of the clinic. The “PRC,” however, is a place where women are told the “church” can help them birth the baby, support it, and so forth. Ultimately, the supporters of PRC want women to “not commit murder,” according to Jesus or lord or Mary or whoever otherwise views this as a very grave sin. Note: a “human” is formed at the moment of conception, not at a certain time in the pregnancy, according to pro-lifers.
Fast forward to the scene of my arrival: First, two cops were in the parking lot writing up a ticket to a man with a megaphone. Meanwhile, two other megaphones were going off, blaring that Jesus wants something or another as about two dozen people stood along the sidewalk waving signs or murmuring scripture. Odd military warfare planes (this was in San Diego near a base) flew overhead and cars honked incessantly while driving by. Women in neon pink vests, the escorts, were dotted along the sidewalk as well. It was a loud menagerie of 25 or so people in board daylight on a sidewalk. I spotted a car with four Asian women whip out the parking lot, and two of the women in the front seats were crying. I could only imagine being a teenager and trying to end a pregnancy in this confusing, outré scene.
As I soon learned, the tension between the protestors and escorts got unruly a few weeks ago to the point that police now regularly patrolled the parking lot to ensure neither protestors nor escorts are physically on-premise. Apparently, some of the megaphone users used to stand in front of the clinic’s main doors, yelling repeated speech about how the women inside were sinners, going to hell, loved by Jesus, and so forth. The clinic insisted this was intrusive and the police apparently agreed. By the way, this clinic is in a strip mall. “Metro Flooring,” the tenant-right below the PRC and clinic, was probably using the lord’s name in vain at this point.
I first spoke with one of the cops. He sighed with a slight hint of sorrow. “People have a right to free speech, but it gets messy if it is intrusive or physical. We are here to keep everyone safe.”
I approached the first clan of escorts, all women. The apparent leader gave me a vest, and I put it on. I was going to talk with every pro-lifer there, and I did. One of the escorts said, “You ARE? Oh goodness. They’re crazy. Good luck.” Others looked miffed at this as well. I asked, “What are you afraid of? Are they THAT convincing that you’ll go to the other side?” I laughed, but that was an uncomfortable moment. One woman said it can sometimes get “heated.” Another said, “That one there. She’s the craziest. She spit at us once.” I responded, “Okay. Then that’ll be the first person I talk with.”
This woman was about my age, petite with freckles and blond hair. Her makeup was nicely done. She held the shown poster and stood next to a guy, also about her age.
“Hi there,” I said.
“Oh, hi,” she replied.
“I’m here to understand why you are out there. Would you tell me?” I asked.
“Well, you’re wearing that vest, so do you believe in pro-choice?” she countered.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t listen to your position.”
“Oh, okay. No one ever comes over here.” She put the poster down like a knight lowering his armor.
That’s how we started. I asked how she became religious and why she came out here every Thursday and Saturday. Her claim was that she was serving the Lord, our savior, and she was called to this duty. In addition, what these women were doing was murder, and that’s a sin, according to the bible. We are all, in fact, sinners. She ran me through some questions:
“Did you tell a lie this week?” she asked.
“Oh, probably. Does lying to myself count? Ha.” I laughed.
“Have you stolen something this week?”
“Probably a pen, yeah,” I said.
“And have you taken the Lord’s name in vain?”
“Oh, hell yes. Oh, whoops. Does that count?”
“And have you looked at another man and thought him attractive?”
“Why, yes. I like men a lot. Have you looked around here? I mean, god. . .” I trailed off.
“So. You are a thief, a liar, an adulterating person who takes the Lord’s name in vain. You are a sinner.”
“Okay, I am a sinner.”
It went on from there. Accepting what was said was key to keeping a conversation going, and I purposely held off from rebuking their claims. I was there to listen, as hard as it was. (Note-this was the Catholic turf; the prayer people were Christian.) Many statements were “according to the bible.” I asked if adoption was a sin, as she mentioned the church, and even she herself would want to adopt one of the babies, and she was sure that was not in the bible. I asked if she had read the Quran, the Torah, the Vedas, anything else religious. She said she hadn’t. “Maybe the pro-choice people have something like the bible,” I ventured. “Something like the 2002 Reproductive Privacy Act is perhaps their version of your bible. It’s a bit more current, at least.” I didn’t say it in a belittling way. I agree to watch her Youtube birth video, and she agreed to read the law. We left it at that and thanked each other.
There were many conversations I had during the few hours I wore the vest, and I’ll detail just one here above and save the rest for the book. But here’s the thing: Every person of either side was confident, kind, and authentic. My approach, I thought, was confident, kind, and authentic. Maybe this is just the golden rule in action. Maybe this could be a template for civic discourse. Maybe this is a tactic of persuasion. No one in person, face to face, came off outwardly as a “yahoo” or “crazy feminazi.” This was surprising and a bit confusing. If you were a teenager, I could see how easily one could be coaxed. You envision meeting an extremist (of any side) and deduce, “See, this person is yelling. This person is a mess. This person isn’t pulled together. This person ISN’T LIKE ME.” And yet. Speaking articulately with an intelligent, calm person deflates those prejudices.
After a few hours and all at the same time, people simply took off their vests, folded their bibles, and removed their rosaries. It was like a silent lunch bell sounded and everyone knew the fetus frenzy was done for the day. Everyone walked to their cars, all interspersed among one another. One woman, an escort, waved to a protestor. I spotted a “Jesus loves you” bumper sticker on the back of his Honda as he drove out of the parking lot.
DISCLAIMER:
In January of 2015, I started a series of uncomfortable experiences to test a hypothesis: If doing and making bigger and bolder things happen are always achieved outside the comfort zone, then can you pro-actively practice being uncomfortable so that you become more comfortable with being uncomfortable?
More on this hypothesis and insights about what is to be gained with this practice here: https://creativemornings.com/talks/beck-bamberger
Some of these experiences may seem uncomfortable, gross, offensive, or outlandish from your perspective, and that's okay. These aren’t for everyone. In each of these brief experiences, I aim to illuminate, respect, and learn from the lives of others who give their permission to share their stories.