apnl 2.2004
it
X
Roey Thorpe (left) in 1986
at a vigil outside the Center
for Choice in Toledo, Ohio,
w hich was bombed by
anti-abortion terrorists
WHY DYKES SHOULD FIGHT FOR REPRODUCTIVE RIGHTS
by Meg Daly
ave a blast!” read the buttons on protesters’ lapels,
each with a picture of a bomb.
It was May 1986 in Toledo, Ohio, and Roey Thorpe
was just out of college, working at the Center for
Choice. It was, like many abortion clinics across the
nation, the target of increased protesting by abortion opponents.
On the evening of May 20, the center was bombed. No one was
hurt physically, but the bomber left a lasting impression.
“The next morning, going into the clinic was devastating,” says
Thorpe. “Everything was black and melted, and huge pieces of
equipment and furniture were just blown into millions of tiny
shards. The force of it was so scary. It made me realize that they
would stop at nothing, even violence. Up until that point I didn’t
really understand how far they’d go.”
Readers know 41 -year-old Thorpe as the director of Basic Rights
Oregon, but the powerhouse activist got her start fighting for
women’s reproductive rights. Why would a lesbian, who is presumably
at low risk for unplanned pregnancy, put her own well-being on the
line to keep abortion safe and legal for other women?
The answer lies in the battle being waged over who will control
the wombs and bedrooms of U .S. citizens. A common enemy has
waged war upon the basic physical privacy of individuals. And
each time women and queers push forward, a backlash ensues.
As feminists around the country gear up for the national March
for Women’s Lives on April 25 in Washington, D.C., Just Out
checked in with several Portland women who work in both queer
and pro-choice arenas and asked why lesbians and bi women have
a vital stake in fighting for reproductive rights.