I can’t really comprehend why we’re talking about this, still. My stance on birth control and abortion is something I’ve always appreciated as a deeply personal matter. I am pro-choice and do take birth control.

Why? 

Because I have full autonomy over my body.

Why?

Because I can.

Why?

Because I want to. 

But mostly, society has forced me to have a plan B, prepare for the worst case scenario. If I become pregnant there’s an undue responsibility on me to deal with the snowball of the mental, physical, and financial aftermath of getting pregnant. We talk about these matters so lightheartedly sometimes, chanting words like “my body, my choice” - both those for and against pro-choice ideas exchange their words so nonchalantly sometimes, I can’t understand why.

I meet and talk to my gynecologist annually or biannually, and for me, it’s a mental and physical check on my mind and body, trying to treat them with the respect they deserve. For me, my visits to my gynecologist seem deeply sacred, a chance to talk about my future family plans, current relationships, how my body is feeling and responding. It’s personal. It’s there in that office, that my doctor gets to see me, touch me, treat me. It’s always professional but this relationship requires a foundation of trust, together carefully deciding how to pave my medical path forward for my mental and physical health. No choice is taken lightly - every pill, every injection, every operation has effects and consequences. How could I possibly take this lightly? This is my body after all that we’re talking about.

I still remember January 2020, I would be off my employer’s insurance within a months time, so I made the careful and calculated decision to get an IUD. It was never something I particularly wanted, but the ongoing political chatter of anti- birth control and abortion sentiment just ate at my brain. I briefly looked into the side effects, but minimally so, knowing ultimately I had made up my mind. For a situation where my healthcare wasn’t guaranteed, and the eventual possibility of even the rights to my body not guaranteed, an IUD seemed like the obvious choice. 

Fast forward ~1.5 years to now: I do not regret this choice as I was doing all I could to protect my body. This was my plan B. I was in no state to get pregnant, with no partner to share this responsibility, simply put, pregnancy wasn’t an option for me. I was alone, which I was content with - but the price is having to watch your back around every corner, on every dark street, never drinking too much, never going home with strangers, careful with whom you share personal information with.

Rape is real. Rape is a part of daily life whether you want to hear it or not. I shouldn’t have to justify my wish for an abortion - but I’ve seen how so many men have treated me now and before, and this fear feels perfectly rational. I know those to have been assaulted by strangers, by their loved ones, by their family, by their friends. I can’t possibly tell you why. My heart breaks thinking about this, even just sharing this with you. I might remind you again, this is personal.

My body doesn’t seem to like my IUD too much, somehow I seem to be an outlier in experiencing the whole gamut of undesired symptoms. Do I want it out? Maybe, I think so. But, is that the right and safe choice? I think so and I hope so, but I can’t know for sure when it seems and feels as if the society I reside in and the governing body doesn’t want to advocate for my choice to do right by my body.

I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this, because it doesn’t matter. My choices are my own, and don’t need this type of justification, but still on this day, I am choosing to share part of my brain with you.

These topics are greatly triggering, so I think it’s worth being kind and gentle - and most importantly engage and exchange ideas rooted in compassion, love, and empathy.

That is all for now.

Farihah