Will I Ever Have a Choice?

This post is part of our "What Does Choice Mean to You?" series commemorating the 37th anniversary of Roe v. Wade.

About 2 years ago, I attended a workshop with the Pro-Choice Public Education Project’s Executive Director, Aimee Thorne-Thomsen on how “choice” is non-inclusive and why the movement should shift from a “pro-choice” perspective to a “reproductive justice” lens. It had never previously occurred to me that there was a difference between the two terms until that workshop. I had not considered how the word “choice” could possess negative connotations, even after it had been thrown at me in conversation in that manner. Here is why choice is not for me.

My father has always had a tendency of proclaiming to me “Well, that’s the choice you’ve made.” when discussing an aspect of my life that he does not agree with. And every time he uses “choice” in that way, in that context, I want to vomit. At 19, I know I have made my fair share of choices. But I also know that a good deal of my actions are not choices, but outcomes of the way my life is constructed. They’re not choices, they’re facts. “Choices” like falling in love, going to a community college instead of a private university, and putting myself on birth control.

Choice is a non-inclusive word because it assumes that everyone, everywhere, always has the ability to choose. Just think about what any young person would say if they were asked if they felt they were able to – freely – make choices in their lives. Now do you think everyone has the ability to choose, or even thinks they do? Choices are socially constructed, influenced by friends, family, and partners. Even the most independent person has relied on those they love and trust to help them make a decision. Who is allowed to make certain choices is also a socially constructed idea, as the example of the young person illustrates. As a young woman of color, I didn’t have a choice but to put myself on birth control because neither I nor my partner have the support systems to allow us to have children and continue our lives, careers, and education. In the same respect, I don’t have a choice but to deal with the stigma of being a young woman of color on birth control. Yup, I mean the “You’re just gonna have rabbit sex now and know no consequences.” conversation that happens with adults after “choosing” to be on birth control.

There will always be a part of me that is fond of “choice.” The part of me that believes in the reproductive justice movement; the part of me that’s learned to embrace my sexuality, my career, my education, and the other parts of my life that I’ve constructed. But the part of me that must endure seeing my sisters denied access, or scrutinized for using the resources they do have, knows that choice is only for a few. That until my choice of wearing tight jeans does not yield me being harassed on the street, choice in not for me. Maybe one day choice will be accessible to me and mine. Until then, I congratulate those who have “choice” and ask that they fight with me and my sisters to gain our choice.