“Everybody was called a ‘whore’ or
a ‘lesbian’ who participated in that
march,” Daniels said.

At the same time as the Boston
Women’s Health Book Collective pub-
lished “Our Bodies, Ourselves” in 1970,
an anatomy book written “by women
for women” to help open dialogue
around sex and biology, Daniels had
an abortion in New York, one of the
four states where abortion was legal at
the time. It was expensive, and her boy-
friend at the time refused to help pay.

In other areas of the country, women
were not as lucky as Daniels.

Liz Downing, now the vice president
of advocacy of the National Council
of Jewish Women of the Greater
Philadelphia Section, had friends who
had back-alley abortions in the same
era. The use of coat hangers — now a
symbol used by abortion access advo-
cates — left some friends injured and
others unable to bear children.

According to Downing, this wasn’t
unusual: “People knew people knew
people.” Organizing protests was a grassroots
effort of meeting friends in their liv-
ing rooms, hoping people would check
their mailboxes or pick up their land-
line telephones when protest plans
were in motion.

But even after the decision of Roe
v. Wade, victory for abortion access
activists was short-lived, with the 1992
Planned Parenthood of Southeastern
Pennsylvania v. Casey case, which
originated in Pennsylvania, all but
overturning Roe v. Wade.

Before the case was presented in
front of the Supreme Court in 1992, Kol
Tzedek synagogue member and health
care lawyer J. Kathleen Marcus worked
as a lawyer for the case when it went to
District Court, when she was a “little
baby lawyer, minutes post-bar exam.”
On the district level, the plaintiffs,
including Planned Parenthood, argued
against the commonwealth to deem five
provisions, which included women hav-
ing to get the consent of their male part-
ner to get an abortion, unconstitutional.

The plaintiffs won the case with the help
of Marcus, 59, who discovered that one
of the “mental health experts” the com-
monwealth brought to testify on their
behalf had, instead of a doctorate in psy-
chology, a degree in home economics.

“That led to this wonderfully detailed
decision, where Planned Parenthood
won every single aspect, except [declar-
ing parental consent for abortion
unconstitutional],” Marcus said. “And
so that was a near-perfect win.”
When the case went to the Third
Circuit Court of Appeals, however, the
District Court decision was partially
reversed. Marcus remembers reading
the decision confused and frustrated by
the author. It was written by then-Cir-
cuit Judge Alito.

By the time the case reached the
Supreme Court, the five original pro-
visions from the Pennsylvania govern-
ment were upheld. Planned Parenthood
v. Casey effectively overturned Roe v.

Wade, Marcus argued.

“In a sense, that was even more insid-
ious because it allowed for very restric-
tive state laws to be passed that have,
since ‘92, essentially eliminated abor-
tion in a huge swath of states,” she said.

Years later, Marcus signed an amicus
brief for a Louisiana case that banned
abortion. The brief was signed by
women lawyers and law students who
had received abortions — the begin-
nings of a growing trend of people
going public with personal experiences
of having an abortion.

“There are a number of things on the
‘choice’ side that have changed, and
one is the willingness of people to come
out and say, ‘I had an abortion, and
I’m not ashamed, and here’s my story,”
Marcus said.

In the past few years, celebrities such
as Phoebe Bridgers, Uma Thurman and
Stevie Nicks have shared their abortion
stories online, which Marcus believes is
a powerful tool.

But social media, which activists have
used to catapult mobilization efforts
and rally protesters on short notice, is
a double-edged sword, Downing said.

It’s also a place to witness vitriol and
misinformation. “There was a time of broadcast
news, which I miss very much, which
required that there be opposing sides,”
she said. “So I remember really appre-
ciating the fact that, when there was an
issue that was considered controversial,
the news media were responsible for
providing both sides of the argument.”
Daniels shares Downing’s ambivalence
toward social media, favoring face-to-
face conversations. She hopes to facilitate
an intergenerational dialogue in order to
inform the younger generation — hun-
gry idealists in her eyes — about her own
experiences. The conversations, in turn,
help to wash away some of the jaded feel-
ings Daniels has, watching history repeat
itself half a century later.

“It does give me hope,” Daniels said.

“Because you have foot power, and
I really believe that you have voting
power; you have your physical power,
your mental power, and you have a
desire to think about your future.” JE
Liz Downing at a Doylestown courthouse protests the Supreme Court draft
overturning Roe v. Wade.
Courtesy of Liz Downing
Norma McCorvey (Jane Roe) and her lawyer Gloria Allred on the steps of the
Supreme Court in 1989
Courtesy of Wikimedia Creative Commons
Carol Daniels and her husband at a protest in Philadelphia
Courtesy of Carol Daniels
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