Courtesy Samantha Chavarria
I've always been pro-choice. I grew up in a Catholic household but my parents expressed progressive social views, so it's only natural that I shared their sentiment. While I personally never thought I'd have an abortion, I was always supportive of those who sought to have one. So, when I unexpectedly became pregnant last year because of my misplaced IUD, deciding to have an abortion wasn't a big moral conflict for me. Actually, the biggest conflict that stood in my way was the prohibitive cost of the procedure.
The pandemic had been hard on my family financially. I went from a fairly lucrative career as a freelance writer to getting zero paid writing jobs in 2020 and 2021. This meant a loss of tens of thousands of dollars in income. Luckily, with some major adjustments to our spending, my family — my husband, our three kids, and me — found a way to live comfortably on a smaller income. However, this tighter budget meant that there was absolutely no wiggle room for major expenses — even if they were emergencies.
This truth was at the forefront of my thoughts when I realized I was pregnant. I knew I needed an abortion and I knew abortions were expensive. I just didn't know how I was going to be able to afford one.
My dilemma was compounded by a few details.
One: My IUD had become embedded in my uterus, which made getting an abortion more complicated than usual. Having to visit several doctors to find help with this obstacle added to the overall expense of seeking an abortion.
And two: My positive pregnancy test came just weeks before the SB 8 Texas Heartbeat Act was scheduled to go into effect in my state. The Heartbeat Act prohibits abortions after six weeks, the benchmark of when a flutter located where a fetus' heart will develop can be picked up by ultrasound. This meant I was on a tight deadline to get my abortion done. If the procedure was put off for too long, I would have to risk even more expense to travel out of state for treatment.
But nothing could be done until I had the funds to pay for my abortion. As I mentioned, my family income wasn't prepared for an expense like this. The pandemic had also hit our friends and family pretty hard, so asking for a loan from them would have been both insensitive and futile. In my desperation, I was considering payday advances and title loans when a friend suggested crowdfunding my abortion.
I had seen people crowdfund payment for any number of medical issues. In fact, I had done a campaign years before when my dad was getting treatment for cancer. Though abortion has a contentious stigma surrounding it, the procedure is as much a medical issue as any other health need. Determined to raise the funds, I took to Twitter and stated my case in hopes of financing my abortion.
With the cost of visits to three different clinics and the eventual procedure, my abortion ended up costing $850. Of that amount, I was able to crowdfund less than half. It might not seem like much, but the $320 I was able to raise made all the difference in getting my abortion. Without the generosity of Twitter friends and strangers, the story of my abortion might have had a much different ending.
Unfortunately, my story is about to become even more common for those who seek abortions.
With the June 24th Supreme Court decision to overturn Roe v Wade, millions of Americans lost their constitutional right to an abortion. Without the protection afforded by Roe v Wade, nearly half of the states in the US are expected to criminalize abortion, if they haven't already. For the people living in these states, this means the substantial loss of their bodily autonomy. It also means that, if they are in need of an abortion, they have a difficult decision: face the expenses that come with an out-of-state abortion or continue an unwanted pregnancy, another massive expense.
For some, the added expense of an out-of-state abortion won't be such a big issue. People with disposable income will be better equipped to navigate the expenses that come with travel. They're also more likely to have resources such as friend and family support, paid time off through an employer, and access to abortion counseling before and after their procedure. They'll have the kind of options everyone should be allowed.
Unfortunately, not everyone has those alternatives. The people made most vulnerable by the court's decision are already the ones most marginalized by our society. Black and brown people, disabled folks, the LGBTQ+ community, undocumented individuals, the poor, and the lower-middle class are all more likely to live paycheck to paycheck. They are also less likely to have support systems — both personal and professional — to aid them in making decisions about having an abortion.
Just as crowdfunding has become a normal way to finance medical bills, I expect we'll soon see more fundraisers to support abortions.
While this reality is far from ideal, there are ways to contribute to abortion funds that will go towards helping real people get the care they need. Large organizations like Planned Parenthood do a lot to provide reproductive healthcare and education, but they're already getting large donations from major corporations and nonprofits. In order to reach even more people in need, try donating to smaller grassroots abortion organizations in your area or to nonprofit legal advocacy groups specializing in abortion. Funds donated to these causes will go a long way towards helping people reclaim their right to choose.
The Supreme Court's decision about Roe v Wade is sure to have countless repercussions that we've yet to consider. However, the financial burden of abortion is one that we can combat now in the name of reproductive freedom for all.
