I had just left Nevada for good, moved to Ohio to study writing. It was my first day in a new city. I pulled over to get a look at the replica of the Santa Maria that sits in the Olentangy River in downtown Columbus, got nauseous getting out of my car, and that’s when I knew. I took a pregnancy test in the bathroom of a grocery store, took another in the bathroom of a bar. I borrowed money, made the appointment, had the abortion. I was 23.
This much is clear 10 years later: if I hadn’t had the right to choose I would not have become a writer. For me, the right to choose is the right to... Read more