Mother of 12 regrets her early support for abortion “rights”

Thirty-nine years ago nine black-robed men handed feminists a triumph that would try our souls, and — I have come to believe — find them wanting.

On Jan. 22, 1973, when the Sisterhood is Powerful crowd rejoiced at their Roe v. Wade victory, I was with them, a Washington, D.C., radical feminist scholar/abortion rights advocate, much in demand as a spokeswoman by virtue of my motherhood. After all, who better to illustrate the righteous need for abortion than a young woman with a future, already encumbered by a 3-year-old in daycare?

Five years later in San Francisco, on the morning of my own abortion, I felt proud of our feminist legacy — and even a little righteous, as though exercising my “right to choose” was a sacrament.

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