Will kill women.........

The Texas law will kill women who need abortions like mine. Here’s what California must do.

Bay Area Assemblymember Buffy Wicks argues that Texas' abortion law will kill women who need emergency abortion procedures

Buffy Wicks

I came of age as a woman believing that decisions about my body belonged to me — that the right to control it was protected, that my mother’s and grandmother’s generations had fought and secured that for us. That we as a country — though divided on abortion — had cemented in the country’s highest court our right to make the best choice for our body, our families, our lives.

It’s very likely that my daughters will soon live in a post-Roe v. Wade nation — and it sickens me to think about them growing into young women feeling like anyone but them is in charge of their bodies. I can’t fathom explaining to them that the tide can turn at any moment when it comes to who’s in control, and that the impact on their health and lives could vary drastically depending on where they live or who represents them in office.

I’ve been fortunate enough to live in California both times I’ve needed access to an abortion. The first, I was 26 and between jobs, sleeping on a friend’s couch in San Francisco. I made the best — the only — decision for my life at that moment. I went on to work in the White House under President Barack Obama, and became "Mom" to Jojo and Elly — when the time was right. 

The second happened just this September. And this time, it wasn’t a matter of choice. 

Just three months ago, at 44 years old, I had a miscarriage requiring an emergency abortion procedure. I had been going about my day, chopping lettuce for a salad, when I began experiencing severe cramping and heavy bleeding. My doctor said my body could just be going through hormonal changes, since I had just finished weaning my youngest daughter from breastfeeding. She said it could be a hormonal imbalance, fibroids, endometriosis or perimenopause, and that the most important thing was to get the blood loss under control or I would have to go to the emergency room. 

By the next morning, my condition worsened. I found myself doubled over and barely able to walk as I struggled to get my daughter ready for school. So I went to the doctor. They did an examination, ultrasound and pregnancy test. Then, in a single breath she told me, “You’re pregnant. You’re miscarrying. And you need a D&C (an emergency abortion procedure) now.”

It all happened so fast, the bevy of emotions and information to take in all at once. For an issue so often framed as a choice, it felt surreal to have my right to choose feel so far from the equation. This time, it wasn’t a choice — because there was no choice to be made.

I needed to undergo this procedure as a matter of health care, something I had already been thinking a lot about — this was the week we learned that Texas’ extreme abortion ban, known as Senate Bill 8, was allowed to remain in effect. And amid all the emotions of concluding a pregnancy I had literally just learned about, I kept wondering how my circumstance might be different outside of California. I kept thinking about the Texan women who had gone through the pain I was going through.

So in the middle of the abortion, I asked the doctor if this medically necessary procedure would have been off the table under Texas’ extreme abortion ban. She said, given access issues, it could be very difficult.

My specific abortion would have technically been permitted since my pregnancy was no longer viable. But in practical terms, access to this health care would have been my barrier. Texas’ extreme, unconstitutional law makes accessing any procedure incredibly difficult because of its impact on abortion providers’ ability to operate in the state. The state has fewer than two dozen abortion providers for a state of 29 million people. Compare that to California, which has more than 400 health centers to serve our state’s 39.5 million people. 

Draconian laws like Texas’ create a culture of fear and confusion among women who need care, and that’s by design. For many people — especially Black, Indigenous and other people of color, undocumented immigrants, low-income people, young people and folks living in rural areas — abortion is already a right in name only, because of the myriad barriers to accessing care. The lawmakers behind these bills don’t want women to know their rights. They want them to be scared to ask. They want information about care and how to access it to be shrouded in secrecy.

They want to instill that same fear and confusion in anyone who might support a woman in this position — friends and family, medical providers, even total strangers, like rideshare drivers. Under the Texas ban, a Lyft or Uber driver can be sued for driving a woman to an abortion provider and might very well turn their back on someone in a situation like mine for fear of being held liable. 

Think about the cruelty involved in crafting laws that make life more difficult for someone in that situation: in great pain, bleeding profusely, barely able to walk, confused about what’s happening to them, unsure about where to go. Their only choice at that point is to endure a multi-state drive, or a frantic rush to the airport to fly to a state where the medically necessary health care they need is still legal and available. And that’s assuming they have the means to access those options.

All it took for me to access those options was a short car ride to my health care provider, where I got timely access and attention for my painful medical emergency. But if I were in a state where providers are closing down, finding timely access could have jeopardized my health.

That’s why, as the abortion debate rages on in the Supreme Court, California is beginning to prepare for the possibility that we will become a destination for hundreds of thousands of women who might not be able to access an abortion in their own state. According to data from the Guttmacher Institute, the number of out-of-state women of reproductive age who would find their nearest health center located in California would increase from 46,000 to 1.4 million — a near 3,000% increase should the U.S. Supreme Court overturn Roe v. Wade, and 26 states move swiftly to severely restrict or outright ban abortion, a widely anticipated outcome.

But that won’t be an option for everyone, for a number of reasons. I myself would not have been able to withstand a multi-hour drive, let alone a flight to another state. For many women, it will be a matter of means; for others, a matter of their current condition. And for many who won’t be able to travel for the care they need, it could very well be life-threatening. That’s why I was glad to see the report from the California Future of Abortion Council identifying ways to increase access and affordability for abortion care for those without the means to access it.

These recent extremist bans and legal actions underscore one big imperative when it comes to California’s leadership as a reproductive freedom state: We must open our arms to all who come here for care and work with urgency to prepare our health centers to meet this moment in American history. If we do not, it won’t be just out-of-state patients who suffer, but Californians, too. 

California continues to be a beacon of hope, for those from out-of-state and for those who live here. We’ve long led the way in the fight for health equity. It should be no different when it comes to abortion.