How the death of Roe v. Wade impacts us all

Back in high school when studying for the English A level, we learnt about something called the Cooperative Principle. It’s all about how we make conversation, and the unwritten rules of our social interactions. For some reason, despite having forgotten most of what I was taught back then (RIP to my French speaking skills), this principle has always stuck with me. 

One of the ‘rules’ of the Cooperative Principle pertains to the length and depth of your contribution to a conversation (i.e. give no more or less information than is required). At the time, I remember our class discussing a small talk example; when someone asks ‘how are you’, it’s generally expected that you should give a short, polite answer - not your life story. 

Since last Friday, when the United States Supreme Court overturned Roe vs Wade - and in the process, plunged millions of people into fear and despair - I’ve been thinking about this conversational rule. Each time I’ve joined a work call or client meeting, and the ‘how are you, how’s your week going?’ question is asked, I remind myself not to go too deep, not to disobey the rule. They’re not looking for a real answer - they’re just making polite conversation. 

But this decision rolls back the human rights of millions of women and trans and non-binary people across America. How I really feel is completely and utterly bereft. Heartbroken for friends and loved ones in America. Terrified for the women who will quite literally die as a result of this decision. I am not fine. Are any of us fine? 

The world is on fire. Fascism is on the march. Racism and misogyny infect our institutions, our police forces, our government bodies. Trans people are under constant attack in the right-wing media; women’s rights are on the chopping block. Democracy hangs by a thread on both sides of the Atlantic. In these circumstances, how do we stave off despair? How do we get up every morning, make breakfast, get on with our lives, find ways to carve out joy?

A recent tweet by the US author Bess Kalb manages to perfectly encapsulate the seeming triviality of our daily rituals in the wake of such horrific news:

Since the Supreme Court ruling a week ago, US politicians, social justice activists, and DEI practitioners have been posting practical lists of steps that can be taken to push for the restoration of women’s rights and bodily autonomy. Frankly, they are the voices to listen to - especially if you are US-based. From Gloria Steinem, to Elizabeth Warren, to Sherillyn Ifill, there are people with decades-long experience in this fight who are not only close to this specific issue, but familiar with the American political and legal context. They are leading the way for Americans wondering how this happened, and what to do next. 

But for those of us in the UK watching on in horror, and worried about the precedent this might set, there are some steps we can (and must) also take:

  1. First thing’s first. Make space to feel all the feelings about this. It’s a gut punch - there are far-reaching implications and it’s a huge amount to process. As we think about how we get to work and take action, we should care for ourselves and our communities in the process. As Audre Lorde put it ‘caring for myself is not self-indulgence. It is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.’

  2. Donate. If you’re in a position to do so, try to give to grassroots organisations and abortion funds that are doing work on the ground to support reproductive rights. This might seem like a small thing, but it’s an effective way to make a difference. Check out this article on funds to donate to. 

  3. Do the work to protect abortion rights in the UK. Stella Creasy is tabling an amendment to the British bill of rights, to give women the fundamental right to an abortion (something that is not currently enshrined in law here either). Write to your local MP and ask them to vote in favour of this. It’s urgent. Just this week, Tory MP Danny Kruger stated in a Commons debate that women have ‘no absolute right to bodily autonomy’. We would be naive to think that what’s happening in America can’t happen here.

  4. If you are an employer, consider what you are doing to support your people in the wake of this decision. This goes beyond policies; we know that people don’t always use the formal procedures available to them, due to fear and lack of trust. So how can your organisation communicate - not just in a formal capacity, but also in an informal one - that affected employees can trust you in a time of need? This speaks to a broader need for us to rethink how our organisations respond to the many existential crises we face. 

Yesterday, on a work call, I broke the rule. When asked how I was, I answered honestly; ‘I am devastated. It’s been an awful week and it’s hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other.’ It wasn’t quite the answer my conversation partner was expecting, but it did make space for a vulnerable, honest exchange. Perhaps, in these troubling times, etiquette is less important than authenticity after all.

Previous
Previous

Why diversity is about much more than hollow representation

Next
Next

If your Pride Month initiatives don’t centre trans rights, they’re missing the mark