Must-Read Article

Sandra Harmon, a successful TV writer and producer.  However, she got her start in New York when she was so young that $96 a month in rent stretched her resources.  It was also when she was raped and abused by a diplomat who knew her living circumstances, a man who knew she did not have a bed and offered to let her borrow one while she waited.

Harmon writes an amazing story, and the ending is not without satisfaction.  She's a tough, ballsy broad.  But she has a lot to say about legitimate rape, and the pregnancy that ensued, and what women could find themselves facing in the future under the same circumstances.  It is nervy of me to presume to speak for her, but I bet she would also surely be disgusted about Akin's wife comparing people's reactions to rape, saying they have caused him enough pain that it is similar.

No, this is a real story about what happens when a young, poor woman finds herself attacked through no fault of her own.  I've got a teaser here, but I very much recommend that you read the whole thing.

For the next few weeks, I tried not to think about what happened, avoided the neighborhood coffee shop and didn’t confide in anyone. I didn’t tell my mother because she was still angry I’d moved alone to Manhattan. I knew she wouldn’t understand, and would blame me. I thought briefly of going to the police, but remembered that Enrique, as an Chilean diplomat, was immune to prosecution. Besides, who would believe my word over his after I’d invited him to come up to my apartment with a bed? 

When my period didn’t come, I went to the doctor and learned I was pregnant. I was in shock. Getting pregnant with an unwanted child was one of the worst situations a poor young woman could get herself into. I didn’t want a baby, and there was no way I could have afforded one. I felt I had no choice but to get an abortion. But abortions were illegal, albeit not impossible. In those days, real doctors, wanted a thousand dollars, and I didn’t have it. All my salary went to pay for rent and groceries. 

I refused to even consider the not-so-secret world of incompetent abortionists who were not doctors, who emphasized speed and their own protection. They didn’t use anesthesia because it took too long for women to recover; they wanted them out as quickly as possible. Some abortionists were rough and sadistic, or even drunk. Setting up shop in cheap, rundown, often filthy apartments, or in the back room of a commercial store, or even in the back of a car, almost none took adequate precautions against hemorrhage or infection. Some women turned to dangerous self-abortions, such as inserting knitting needles or coat hangers into their vagina or uterus, douching with lye, or swallowing strong drugs or chemicals. Many women died, and others had been left with chronic illness and pain, or disfigurement or infertility.