Watching the final Presidential
debate, I felt a strange sensation, relatively unique in my years of
being a reproductive rights activist intent on rethinking how pro-choicers
address reproductive rights in public: Victory.  And totally blindsided
by it, no less.  Moderator Bob Schieffer lobbed a question about Roe v. Wade, and McCain answered first with a largely anti-abortion rights position. 
Then it was Obama’s turn. He
started to dwell on how abortion is a tragedy but still a right (a framing
suggestion for people who use this tactic–compare it to divorce, a
tragedy that most people still understand needs to be a right), and
I threw myself to the ground writhing in pain.  My companions were
understandably concerned.  What do you think he should say? 

I paused in my writhing to
say, "What reproductive rights activists have been saying for years,
which is to acknowledge the importance of the right and then immediately
move on to broadening the discussion to address the whole range of issues
that affect women’s lives, including measures to reduce rates of unintended pregnancy. More birth
control!  More education!  More social structures to support
women who wish to give birth!  Better health care!"   

Dear readers, I had barely
finished my rant when Senator Obama said exactly what I had been pleading
for him to say.  And that’s when I tasted that sweet taste (much
like Pop Tarts) of victory.  After years of reproductive rights
activists talking, pro-choice politicians were listening. VIDEO: Framing Reproductive Rights

I shouldn’t be so surprised. 
It’s been an innovative year for pro-choicers in talking to the public. 
You had Hillary Clinton on the campaign trail framing the right to abortion
in feminist terms, a refreshing break from the hand-wringing that usually
occurs around the issue.  In fact, merely having a woman up on
the stage talking about women’s rights is a strange but pleasant sensation,
since most political discussions about reproductive rights involve a
bunch of men who will never get pregnant kicking the issue around like
it’s a foreign object, which it, to be fair to them, probably feels
like it is.   You see the Republican Majority for Choice getting
downright ornery, running ads in Colorado against Proposition 48 in
Colorado that would define fertilized eggs as persons, with potentially
more rights than women.  

The mainstream media has shifted
perspectives, too.  William Saletan, who loves to write about abortion
but rarely seems to be actually reading the materials of activists on
both sides of the debate, took
the time to notice that pro-choice activists are way ahead of him on
framing issues,
though he didn’t pause to wonder if perhaps he should stop his campaign
of preaching at pro-choicers to try tactics we’ve already tried. 
Chris Matthews went on the warpath after McCain put "women’s health"
in scare quotes during the debate.  In general, the various ways
that wanted pregnancies can go very wrong has received far more media
coverage than it used to.  It’s not as dramatic a sea change
as when evangelical Christians discovered global warming, but it’s
up there. 

The other innovation I’m
seeing pro-choice politicians pick up on is one that’s been advocated
by my colleagues here at Rewire and other pro-choice organizations–remind
people that having faith and supporting reproductive rights are not
only mutually exclusive, but that many people of faith are strong supporters
of reproductive rights.  As an irreligious person, I didn’t at first find
this tactic compelling, but observing it in action, I have to sign on
with my support.   

In the debate, and on the campaign
trail generally, Obama many women considering abortion involve their religious advisers in the decision.  It’s
not a tactic unique to him.  Mark Warner of Virginia has gotten a lot of positive attention for innovative campaigning techniques, and
one of those has been to invoke the role of religious advisers in his
discussion of abortion choices. In
an interview with NPR,
Warner characterized many women who get abortions as people of faith
while also emphasizing the role of prevention. 

I’m somebody that believes
a woman’s health-care decisions ought to be made by that woman, her
family and her religious beliefs. I’m someone that believes that we
ought to increase, for example, use of contraceptives, like Plan B. 

I’m moved by rhetoric like this, because it reminds the audience that a woman who chooses abortion
is not some cartoon villain, nor is she the cartoon victim being lied
to and misled by evil men and doctors that is portrayed by anti-choice
propaganda.  She’s a woman who lives in the world, and is probably
someone you know and like, maybe even love.  And then, after reminding
you that women who choose abortion are human, he moves right on to prevention. 
All in two sentences!  Pro-choice politicians, take notes.   

Anti-choicers have benefited
from years by putting forward relatively unchallenged a stereotype of pro-choicers that portrayed us as ammoral, insensitive and out-of-touch with mainstream American values.  It was a nifty trick, because pro-choice policies
reflect average American values far more than anti-choice ones. 
This election season feels like a new beginning, a chance for pro-choice
values that people actually have to line up with pro-choice rhetoric. 

Seeing Loretta Ross speak a few years
ago, I was impressed by how she challenged the calcified reproductive
rights debate by saying, "I’m not pro-choice.  I’m not pro-life. 
I’m pro-YOU."  What then had been a somewhat radical reimagining
of how to talk about reproductive justice has started to enter the mainstream. 
We see this attitude every time an activist or politician grounds the
decisions people make in the details of everyday life, seeing contraception
and abortion as woven into the fabric of our existence like divorce,
electric bills and daytime TV. In other words, how women actually experience abortion, and not as an abstract battle of ultimate good versus ultimate
evil.