Watching the final Presidential debate, I felt a strange sensation, relatively unique in my years of being a reproductive rights activist intent on rethinking how pro-choicers address reproductive rights in public: Victory.  And totally blindsided by it, no less.  Moderator Bob Schieffer lobbed a question about Roe v. Wade, and McCain answered first with a largely anti-abortion rights position.  Then it was Obama's turn. He started to dwell on how abortion is a tragedy but still a right (a framing suggestion for people who use this tactic--compare it to divorce, a tragedy that most people still understand needs to be a right), and I threw myself to the ground writhing in pain.  My companions were understandably concerned.  What do you think he should say? 

I paused in my writhing to say, "What reproductive rights activists have been saying for years, which is to acknowledge the importance of the right and then immediately move on to broadening the discussion to address the whole range of issues that affect women's lives, including measures to reduce rates of unintended pregnancy. More birth control!  More education!  More social structures to support women who wish to give birth!  Better health care!"   

Dear readers, I had barely finished my rant when Senator Obama said exactly what I had been pleading for him to say.  And that's when I tasted that sweet taste (much like Pop Tarts) of victory.  After years of reproductive rights activists talking, pro-choice politicians were listening. VIDEO: Framing Reproductive Rights

I shouldn't be so surprised.  It's been an innovative year for pro-choicers in talking to the public.  You had Hillary Clinton on the campaign trail framing the right to abortion in feminist terms, a refreshing break from the hand-wringing that usually occurs around the issue.  In fact, merely having a woman up on the stage talking about women's rights is a strange but pleasant sensation, since most political discussions about reproductive rights involve a bunch of men who will never get pregnant kicking the issue around like it's a foreign object, which it, to be fair to them, probably feels like it is.   You see the Republican Majority for Choice getting downright ornery, running ads in Colorado against Proposition 48 in Colorado that would define fertilized eggs as persons, with potentially more rights than women.  

The mainstream media has shifted perspectives, too.  William Saletan, who loves to write about abortion but rarely seems to be actually reading the materials of activists on both sides of the debate, took the time to notice that pro-choice activists are way ahead of him on framing issues, though he didn't pause to wonder if perhaps he should stop his campaign of preaching at pro-choicers to try tactics we've already tried.  Chris Matthews went on the warpath after McCain put "women's health" in scare quotes during the debate.  In general, the various ways that wanted pregnancies can go very wrong has received far more media coverage than it used to.  It's not as dramatic a sea change as when evangelical Christians discovered global warming, but it's up there. 

The other innovation I'm seeing pro-choice politicians pick up on is one that's been advocated by my colleagues here at RH Reality Check and other pro-choice organizations--remind people that having faith and supporting reproductive rights are not only mutually exclusive, but that many people of faith are strong supporters of reproductive rights.  As an irreligious person, I didn't at first find this tactic compelling, but observing it in action, I have to sign on with my support.   

In the debate, and on the campaign trail generally, Obama many women considering abortion involve their religious advisers in the decision.  It's not a tactic unique to him.  Mark Warner of Virginia has gotten a lot of positive attention for innovative campaigning techniques, and one of those has been to invoke the role of religious advisers in his discussion of abortion choices. In an interview with NPR, Warner characterized many women who get abortions as people of faith while also emphasizing the role of prevention. 

I'm somebody that believes a woman's health-care decisions ought to be made by that woman, her family and her religious beliefs. I'm someone that believes that we ought to increase, for example, use of contraceptives, like Plan B. 

I'm moved by rhetoric like this, because it reminds the audience that a woman who chooses abortion is not some cartoon villain, nor is she the cartoon victim being lied to and misled by evil men and doctors that is portrayed by anti-choice propaganda.  She's a woman who lives in the world, and is probably someone you know and like, maybe even love.  And then, after reminding you that women who choose abortion are human, he moves right on to prevention.  All in two sentences!  Pro-choice politicians, take notes.   

Anti-choicers have benefited from years by putting forward relatively unchallenged a stereotype of pro-choicers that portrayed us as ammoral, insensitive and out-of-touch with mainstream American values.  It was a nifty trick, because pro-choice policies reflect average American values far more than anti-choice ones.  This election season feels like a new beginning, a chance for pro-choice values that people actually have to line up with pro-choice rhetoric. 

Seeing Loretta Ross speak a few years ago, I was impressed by how she challenged the calcified reproductive rights debate by saying, "I'm not pro-choice.  I'm not pro-life.  I'm pro-YOU."  What then had been a somewhat radical reimagining of how to talk about reproductive justice has started to enter the mainstream.  We see this attitude every time an activist or politician grounds the decisions people make in the details of everyday life, seeing contraception and abortion as woven into the fabric of our existence like divorce, electric bills and daytime TV. In other words, how women actually experience abortion, and not as an abstract battle of ultimate good versus ultimate evil.