Once Roe was overturned, state legislatures proved just how out of touch they really are. But together we can create a country in which our freedoms of religion and of bodily autonomy are both respected.
It’s a difficult thing to come to terms with: to feel so much hurt from something that you hold dear. Since the Dobbs decision last June—a decision that moved the fight for abortion rights to the states and stripped millions of Americans of reproductive and abortion services, religious freedom and bodily autonomy–that feeling has overtaken so many of us. Elected officials in our home states—the places where we grew up, where we raised our families, where we maintain rabbinic pulpits and communities—are waging war against the safety, livelihood and freedoms of their own people. The communities where we once felt safe are now behind some of the most restrictive, sexist laws in the last several decades.
My home state of Idaho is now considered one of the most extreme anti-abortion states, banning abortion at all stages of pregnancy and criminalizing helping a minor access an abortion. This radical agenda is part of a wider, far-right Christian nationalist movement that has significantly grown in power in recent years. Aided and abetted by the lack of political courage on the part of the state’s highest-ranking officials, they have seized legislative seats and Republican party leadership. While polls continue to show that a solid majority of Idahoans (and Americans) support reproductive freedom, these extremists oppress women and people who can become pregnant and deny them healthcare and basic human rights. Does that sound like a representative democracy to you?
This isn’t politics. This isn’t medicine or healthcare. This is unadulterated hate and a bastardization of religion dressed in a political shroud.
Now let’s turn to Wisconsin, where a 1849 law banning abortion has taken hold (it has been challenged in court, but the case is still ongoing). The Republican-led state legislature, recognizing the optics of a total abortion ban in our purple state, proposed a compromise to allow exceptions for rape and incest in the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, still severely restricting the right to bodily autonomy. If that’s not punitive enough, state law forces pregnant people who seek abortion care to undergo a mandatory 24-hour waiting period, biased counseling and an ultrasound, completely stripping them of their right to privacy and their right to make a decision for and by themselves.
Right now, if someone needs an abortion in my state of Wisconsin, they must travel (and, for now, it is legal to travel) to another state. Illinois is a common destination where I live, near the state line. But it’s not as simple as it sounds. For some, the travel and childcare costs, plus a possible stay overnight, can put the process financially out of reach. Financial assistance is available from various organizations, but the pregnant person must have an appointment already scheduled to apply. This can slow down a process where every day counts. It is unconscionable to me that my home state puts this on us, on those who are seeking medical help in a time of crisis.
Some have responded, ‘If you don’t like it here, then why don’t you just move?’ The answer is simple: That’s not love. Love is fighting for our communities instead of running away. Love is standing up for the very people who aren’t able to stand up for themselves, your neighbors, your friends and family. And love—exemplified by fighting for policies that protect all of our neighbors and their fundamental rights—is how we will ultimately prevail.
Once Roe was overturned, our state legislatures proved just how out of touch they really are. They exemplified how the draconian laws on reproductive rights are being made by a small group of like-minded politicians who are monopolizing religion and ignoring the religious freedom of Jews and other religious groups.
Jewish tradition teaches that access to abortion, comprehensive medical care and the prioritization of the life and well-being of the living person over the rights of a fetus are inherent Jewish values. Not only do these laws completely negate our Jewish beliefs—and those of many other religions—but they’re using Christianity to enforce restrictions on all Americans. And just as we suspected, the reign of terror did not end with abortion rights.
After Dobbs, the floodgates opened, paving the way for legislation that restricts all facets of life and that disproportionately harms people of color, LGBTQ people, people with disabilities, and those with low incomes. The Dobbs decision has allowed prejudiced lawmakers to weaponize their narrow view of religion, encouraging discrimination and hate under the guise of supposed moral superiority. Abortion access was only the first step, and they’ve already moved on to targeting and terrorizing transgender communities. They are using religion as a shield, a way to attack marginalized groups without having to take accountability for their own bigotry
This isn’t politics. This isn’t medicine or healthcare. This is unadulterated hate and a bastardization of religion dressed in a political shroud.
We—as rabbis and as human beings—are exhausted. We are exhausted by the religious right’s monopolization of religious discourse around abortion. We’re exhausted by their efforts to use their bible as a means to spread hate. But over the last several months, this exhaustion has turned to something else: fury.
As we approach the one-year anniversary of the Dobbs decision, it’s more imperative than ever to take our objections to our state legislatures. We need to fight for representation, for dignity and for equality. We need to stand up for those without a voice and without power. We need to brace for the backlash that we will inevitably face. Together we can create a country in which our freedoms of religion and of bodily autonomy are both respected.
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U.S. democracy is at a dangerous inflection point—from the demise of abortion rights, to a lack of pay equity and parental leave, to skyrocketing maternal mortality, and attacks on trans health. Left unchecked, these crises will lead to wider gaps in political participation and representation. For 50 years, Ms. has been forging feminist journalism—reporting, rebelling and truth-telling from the front-lines, championing the Equal Rights Amendment, and centering the stories of those most impacted. With all that’s at stake for equality, we are redoubling our commitment for the next 50 years. In turn, we need your help, Support Ms. today with a donation—any amount that is meaningful to you. For as little as $5 each month, you’ll receive the print magazine along with our e-newsletters, action alerts, and invitations to Ms. Studios events and podcasts. We are grateful for your loyalty and ferocity.
