JACKSON, Miss – A young woman entered the parking lot of the only abortion clinic in Mississippi with her shoulders hunched. She was accompanied by an older woman and a young man with a stone face with a gun to his thigh. She looked horrified.
There was a deafening noise all around them. It was early Saturday morning, and a man with a powerful sound system was preaching about Jezebel being eaten by dogs. Dozens of evangelical Christians had come to pray. Volunteers at the volunteer clinic, sweating in the summer heat, steered patients’ cars through the crowd and the thunderous music they thought evangelical Christians would hate: Right now, it was the cheeky alt-rock song “Stacy’s Mom.” Posters with aborted fetuses are lined up on the street.
A pastor named Doug Lane hugged the older woman and encouraged her to persuade the younger woman not to go through the procedure. “I wanted her to have the baby,” the woman said in an uncertain voice.
Soon all this – the preaching, the frightened patients, the rock music, the bloody posters – will be gone. But before that, it is guaranteed that there will be a few more days of stormy, passionate crescendo, as Jackson’s Women’s Health Organization, painted in a pink clinic on the basis of the Supreme Court ruling overturning Rowe v. Wade, is trying to see as much as possible -many patients before being forcibly imprisoned.
There is already a lot of talk about what will happen next. Outside the clinic, opponents of abortion discussed how their churches could do a better job by spreading the message of abstinence in a country with the highest teenage pregnancy rates in the country. Proponents of access to abortion, meanwhile, are working to create a network of donors, volunteers, teachers and even pilots to help women in the country’s poorest state travel to places where the procedure will remain legal. Similar efforts are being made in much of the country, in states where abortions will now be banned, and in places that hope to accommodate needy women outside the state.
“Abortion is our business and that’s what we’re going to do – make sure women have access,” said Diane Derzis, owner of the Jackson Clinic. “We’re not leaving.”
Abortion bans have already taken effect in nine states following Friday’s ruling in the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health case, and at least 12 more bans or restrictions are expected to take effect soon, including in Mississippi. Although there was a controversial Mississippi law in Dobbs that tried to limit abortion to 15 weeks, the state also has a so-called trigger law passed in 2007 that completely prohibits abortion, except in cases of rape or risk to life. the mother.
This law cannot take effect until 10 days after state Attorney General Lynn Fitch certifies the Supreme Court’s decision. As of Sunday, it appears that Ms. Fitch has not yet done so, although there is no doubt that she will soon. Ms. Fitch, a Republican, appealed to the Supreme Court in defense of abortion restrictions in Mississippi; on Twitter, she hailed the decision as “a victory not only for women and children, but for the court itself.”
And so the battle outside the Pink Clinic continued as it had for years. Protesters have long been a staple in Jackson’s Fondren neighborhood, coexisting restlessly among its trendy shops and cafes. They have been the subject of municipal council ordinances, police consent decrees and constant complaints from business owners. And they were just one of the complications that made the work of the only abortion clinic in Mississippi extremely difficult.
The intimidation factor, social climate and numerous legal hurdles – including requiring abortion providers to issue scientifically questionable health warnings to women – have forced the clinic to turn to a rotation of doctors outside the state who have been coming and going from Jackson for years.
On Saturday, Mr. Lane, the pastor, said it was “disgusting” that the clinic continued to accept clients even after the Supreme Court ruling. He was not in the mood to celebrate Roe’s fall. Rather, he said, he would protest against the clinic in the same way he had been doing since the 1990s.
“These are going to be the hardest nine days of my life,” said Mr Lane, who, like others, mistakenly suggested that the clock had already started ticking for the clinic. “Because they don’t have to have abortions. All these other countries have closed their clinics. “
Updated
June 26, 2022, 8:44 p.m. ET
A day earlier, Ms. Derzis, who lives in Birmingham, Alabama and owns a number of abortion clinics, came to the Jackson clinic and held a provocative press conference outside, her face partially obscured by large Jackie Onassis-style sunglasses. She talks about a new clinic opening in Las Cruces, New York, about 1,100 miles away, and fundraising efforts to help women in Mississippi travel to New Mexico and other places where abortions will remain legal. .
“Just because we’re not here doesn’t mean we won’t see Mississippi women who need us,” she said.
In an interview, 68-year-old Derzis said she had an abortion in 1973 at the age of 20 in Birmingham while in college and living with her first husband. A year later, she went to work at a women’s clinic in Birmingham. Owning and running such clinics, she said, was her “dream job,” offering her a chance to help women in need. She also said that at one point she felt obligated to receive a law degree, given the obstacles her critics have placed over the years.
Ms Derzis said she would likely keep the phone number on the Jackson Clinic list and could make calls be diverted to the facility in New Mexico.
Cheryl Hamlin, a doctor from Massachusetts who flew to work at the Jackson clinic, said in an interview that she was working on obtaining a license in New Mexico so that she could eventually fly there for work. She was also exploring ways in which Mississippi women could receive abortion pills “online or by mail or whatever.”
Dr Hamlin said she was thrilled by the new outburst of enthusiasm for raising funds to help women travel. But she also worried that this might not be a long-term solution.
“You know, that disappears,” she said.
On Friday, Ms. Fitch, the attorney general, tweeted that after the decision, the government should seek to pass “laws that empower women,” including a review of child support, child care and employment policies. place.
On the same day, the three dissenting judges in the Dobbs case – Stephen Brier, Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kagan – listed the many ways Mississippi fails, with the highest infant mortality rate in the country and some of the highest rates of premature births, low birth weight, cesarean section and maternal death. They noted that while 62 percent of Mississippi pregnancies were unplanned, “Mississippi does not require contraceptive insurance and prohibits teachers from demonstrating proper contraceptive use.”
In recent years, Republican lawmakers who tightly control the state have refused to expand Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act, a major reason critics say the state’s health outcomes are so poor. In April, however, Gov. Tate Reeves signed a law granting tax credits to supporters of “pregnancy resource centers,” which are usually affiliated with religious groups and advising women not to have abortions. Terry Herring, president of the Choose Life Mississippi group, was optimistic that the reinforced centers would help poor women realize their potential in the landscape after Rowe.
“These pregnancy resource centers will provide this compassionate person to guide these people through their pregnancies,” she said. “Many women just need to know how to access what is already available to them.
As the temperature rose to 100 degrees on Saturday, the disappointment of the clinic’s attendants was palpable. The street was narrow, and escorts sought to protect patients from protesters as best they could and to ensure that pedestrians were not hit.
At one point, 53-year-old Dale Gibson, a merchant sailor who volunteered as an escort, started shouting and cursing a protester named Zack Boyd, who held a small rubber fetal doll every time a patient came in and then shouted at patients. through the fence, begging them to repent and keep their baby.
Mr. Boyd had moved Mr. Gibson’s folding camp chair. Mr Gibson objected, accusing Mr Boyd, who was standing on the border of the clinic’s alley, of violating the border. An armed guard intervened and tried to lower the temperature.
Mr Gibson said he was fed up with Mississippi and planned to move to California with Kim Gibson, his wife and a friend. “We live in a theocracy, don’t we?” Mr Gibson said, adding: “If they think this will end in an abortion, people are joking.”
Ms Derzis said the day was particularly busy, with 35 abortions and 25 counseling sessions for women intending to undergo the procedure soon.
When the last of the patients rolled over, Mrs. Gibson, who was standing at the entrance to the parking lot, was drenched in sweat and exhausted. Madison Gus, 21, protesting against abortion, asked if she wanted a bottle of water.
“All I want,” Ms. Gibson said, “is for you all to get annoyed.”
Mr. Boyd heard me. “We will do it in nine days,” he said. “Thank goodness.”
Add Comment