POLLY VERNON

IRELAND will hold a referendum on ABORTION in May,

and I’m feeling all sorts of things. Hopeful, because I’ve wanted this for over two years, ever since Claire Hunt, Grazia reader and abortion rights activist, yanked me into the campaign by tweeting me to remind me Irish women must travel to the UK to terminate unwanted pregnancies. Worried, that having got to this miraculous point, the vote might not go in our favour, because… referendums, eh? Confounded

again that Irish women have been denied this cornerstone right for so damn long.

I don’t do preaching. I don’t do dogma. I don’t think I’m definitively right about anything, really; I’m a flawed piece of humanity, a mess of half-baked notions, half-buried prejudices and social mediadictated morality. But I am certain of one thing: women need abortion rights. I understand the profound discomfort of those who feel differently. I understand there is an argument for life within the womb, even at 10 weeks gestation, or eight, or three. But I also know that a society that denies women the choice to end unhappy pregnancies does not work; is not fair. In the last two years, I’ve marched on pro-choice marches, spoken at rallies, and talked to activists from the Irish abortion rights movement. When I asked how I could be most useful, they said what amounted to: ‘Keep doing that thing where you kind of joke about your own abortions.’

Abortion talk is routinely shrouded in trauma and sadness. You’re not supposed to joke about it. You’re not supposed to say you have shoes you regret more, or that you’ve taken longer to decide on a sandwich in Pret of a lunchtime, than you took to choose a termination. You’re supposed to lower your voice and your eyes, speak in euphemisms and ‘ be careful who you tell’. Yet as long as we do that, as long as we keep it so heightened-yet-hushed, so dramatic and emotive, we stop abortion being reframed as the routine healthcare procedure it is. As an added bonus (where ‘ bonus’ denotes ‘dollop of shite’): through that whispered, eggshell narrative, we allow shame to persist.

So screw that. I’ve had three abortions – I’m one of those repeat-customer multipletermination floozies your mother (father/ Father) warned you about. They were safe and legal, pain-free, shame-free, guilt-free; I actually have bought shoes I regret more. That’s because I know my own mind where my own body is concerned – though not necessarily my wardrobe. The only unordinary part of my entire multiple abortion experience was the extra-ordinary sense of gratitude I felt on being able to make that choice – and how determined I am that

all women are free to have (ordinary) abortions, if and when they need them.