The pervasive Threat of Terror encouraged a culture of silence
Growing up in northern ireland, from the age of four to 22, i didn’t know anyone who had had an abortion. At least, that’s what i thought. of course, i did know women who had terminated pregnancies, but they were forced to do so secretly, under the threat of a prison sentence, and they never shared their stories with me. until last week.
Despite repeal’s magnificent victory for women’s rights, in northern ireland, a victim of rape who sought to end an unwanted pregnancy would risk a longer prison sentence than her attacker. This doesn’t stop abortions; it simply forces women and girls in desperate circumstances to make a costly trip to England, or procure illegal pills online. And yet we are meant to be part of the united Kingdom, where abortion has been a legal right since 1967.
As a child, i got used to the ambivalence of being technically part of the uk, while often treated as something of an afterthought. we felt forgotten about by far-away Mps in London. in the 1980s and early 1990s, there were frequent bomb scares in the shops where i spent my pocket money. The school run was interrupted by British Army checkpoints, with armoured tanks and machine guns. The pervasive threat of a terror attack hung over us, and encouraged a culture of silence. Silence about what religion we were, what side we identified with. And, yes – silence about abortion.
it was only last year that the Labour Mp Stella Creasy persuaded the government to allow northern irish women to get terminations for free on the NHS if they came to England. Since then, over 700 have made the trip.
in a Dublin pub the night before the referendum, i spoke to two friends who had been canvassing for weeks. They were campaigning not just for themselves, but for the countless women forced to stay silent about their secret terminations over the years. They told me of family members and close friends who had admitted to their abortions for the first time, because they finally felt safe enough to do so. ‘i’m glad i spoke out because i wouldn’t have had those important conversations with my friends about their experiences otherwise,’ said one of these brave, brilliant women.
now, we need to extend that compassion to the women of northern ireland. it’s time to give them back agency over their bodies, to give them back a voice.