It's OK to be alarmist when the truth warrants it.
You may not follow politics, you may not trust government, you may not know who's your mayor, let alone who sits on the U.S. Supreme Court. You may be busy with a frenetic summer, stocked to the seams with summer camps and carpools, and worried about gas prices and groceries. I get it.
But it's time to snap out of it and find your fury. We are reverting to a shameful, ghastly period in our nation's history.
A lot of people smarter than me can more articulately explain how the Supreme Court's overturning of Roe v. Wade is an affront to privacy, equality and bodily autonomy. What it means in practice is that safe, legal abortions will no longer be available or will be severely restricted in about half of the country. Minnesota will become a haven for patients from neighboring states seeking the procedure — provided they have the time and money to access this kind of care.
Anger is a completely rational reaction to where we are today. Banning abortion will endanger women's lives, not to mention narrowing the potential pathways for their future.
I couldn't shake a feeling of dread and sorrow while reading the personal stories of Minnesotans in their 60s and 70s who remember life before Roe. They didn't have to come forward, but bravely they did. Their chilling accounts, as told to my Star Tribune colleagues, were published online last Friday after the SCOTUS decision came down.
Please read about their experiences and listen to their voices. You'll hear from Judy Finn, who remembers as a kid cleaning up the blood gushing onto the bathroom floor from her mother, the result of an illegal abortion. And Martha Holton Dimick, who as a young Black woman had few choices after becoming pregnant in Wisconsin, where abortion was not legal. And Jerry Gale, whose wife received an abortion three years before they got married and started a family.
They never regretted their decision.