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In 1965 I was barely 19 and at the University of California, Santa Barbara. I had a steady boyfriend, but I wasn’t ready to get married and I certainly wasn’t get ready to have a child. The birth control pill was fairly new, and I wasn’t even aware that it could be available to me, so we relied on rhythm and condoms.
When I found out I was pregnant, my boyfriend arranged for an abortion in Tijuana, Mexico. I don’t know how he did it, and I never asked him. I’m sure he got the information from some of his fraternity brothers. I’m sure there was a network of “knowers” at the college.
We drove to Tijuana, to a bar. A guy came up to us and collected $300, which is about $2,200 today. Then, and here’s where my panic began to set in, the man told my boyfriend he couldn’t come with me.
I followed the man, and got into a little, nondescript car driven by another man. They took me on a really circuitous route, like they didn’t want me knowing where we were going — it could have been right around the block for all I know. It was all I could do to control my panic. Your mind starts up, “What are the 25 terrible things that could happen? And is there even one good one?” You’re going, “Oh my gosh, I’m never going to see my family again. I’m done.” I was in a foreign country with two men I didn’t know. I didn’t have a passport with me, and nobody that cared about me in my entire life had any idea where I was. It was the height of vulnerability. But I had a goal, and my goal was to not be pregnant.
Things took a turn for the better when we pulled up to a gated house in what appeared to be a pretty affluent neighborhood. When we got inside, I was relieved, because it was a fairly sterile-looking place and it was busy with women.
The abortion itself was pretty simple. There was some heavy discomfort, and I think they gave me some kind of mild sedative, because I was hazy. I honestly don’t know if it was a doctor performing the abortion. No one explained what was going on, but the staff appeared to be medically knowledgable. After, they drove me back to the bar, and that was it. In the next few weeks, I had no complications. I was one of the lucky ones.
I’ve had a career in technology and I’ve been an avid pilot. I’m married, I have two daughters. I’ve lived a full life that would have been totally impossible if I had not had an abortion in 1965.
There’s no comparison between how things were before Roe v. Wade and how they are now. I feel so badly for women and their partners that have to run these gauntlets going into clinics now, but my goodness, if I could have done that instead of what I went through? I would in minute. What I want to know is, why there aren’t more women of my generation coming out and talking about this? What can anyone do to us now? We’ve all lived our lives. Women who can attest to how awful it could be if things go south in the courts should be speaking out. — Anne Hopkins, 70
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