My own situation as a teenager is why I’m leery of parental consent laws. Everything I’m about to tell you is true. I can e-mail specifics to anyone who is interested.
When I was 16 years old, I was fondled by the father of a woman I was taking dance lessons from. Fortunately that’s all it was. I told my parents, but my father didn’t do anything because he didn’t want to risk his reputation in the community. A few months earlier, I had confessed to attempting suicide in Social Studies class. Word of this, of course, got back to my parents as it spread throughout the small town I lived in. My parents refused to do anything about getting treatment for me. I was not allowed to learn to drive because I was too irresponsible because I couldn’t keep my room tidy enough. When my father would inspect my room after I’d tidied it, he would check for dust on top of the windowsills and, when he found it, that was shown to me as evidence of my lack of responsibility. My father also threatened to throw me out a few times.
If I’d gotten pregnant in that situation, it would have been a nightmare. Many years later, I was talking with Dad about girls who got pregnant in high school. He said to me, “You don’t really think I would have thrown you out, do you?” I told him he’d have threatened to, and he admitted that. I would have believed that threat, back then. Looking back at things nearly 25 years later, I can see that things wouldn’t have gone as badly as I thought they would have. As I said, Dad wouldn’t have actually kicked me out. Being the practical, sensible people my parents are, some solution would have been arrived at. Getting there, though, would be, if you’ll allow me a stereotypical British understatement, highly unpleasant. To be precise, I think it would have involved several long lectures from my father about how stupid, irresponsible, worthless, and useless I was. Since I was getting the same message from my peers and I already had a history of suicide attempts, this could have been what pushed me over the edge to suicide. Going to a judge to get around parental consent would have been difficult. As I said, I wasn’t allowed to even learn to drive. The county seat was 20 miles away over some pretty steep hills. Getting there on a bicycle would have been difficult and there was no mass transit. There was mass transit to the next county, and the county courthouse was on the end of the bus line. On the other hand, naive geek that I was, I had no idea how to play hooky from school, although as I type this, I realize that if the incentive were strong enough, and fear of my father was a pretty powerful incentive, I would have found one. I was too ugly, too antisocial, and too generally unpopular to have a date, let alone a boyfriend in high school, not to mention a colossal prude. If I’d gotten pregnant, let’s just say I wouldn’t have been a voluntary participant in the process.
From what I know of my teenage self and my family, if I’d gotten pregnant while I was in high school and parental consent were required, odds are pretty high I would have committed suicide rather than tell them or go to a judge. I would have thought they’d throw me out if I told them, and I’d be in even more trouble if they found out I went behind their backs.
I understand the pro-life position that even one aborted child is one too many, I really do. On the other hand, my position is that even one woman whose life is lost because she cannot have an abortion is one too many. I love my family dearly and Dad and I have sorted things out over the years, but part of what I’ve had to sort out is acknowledging just how bad things were. I was a nice, respectable kid who got good grades and who came from a nice, respectable family. My father never beat me; I have no physical scars I can show you. Instead, until a few years ago, I had a physical, flinch reaction in which I’d duck my head as if I were dodging a blow, a legacy from my father. Even with treatment, there are times when Dad’s old litany of “worthless, stupid, useless, irresponsible”, etc. runs through my head.
It’s because of girls like me, whose situation isn’t as good as it looks on the surface that I must respectfully disagree with those who’d mandate parental consent. I’m willing to concede that in 99% of families it isn’t necessary. I’ll even concede that my teenage perception of what my father’s reaction would have been was wrong. I didn’t know that at the time, though. How could I? As I said, he’d threatened to throw me out because I couldn’t keep my room tidy enough. I figure getting pregnant would have been worse. I wish we did live in a world where no child was ever afraid of his or her parents and where abortion was something which never needed to be considered. Until that world comes about, I’m afraid I can’t support parental consent laws, even with a judicial work around. I wish I didn’t know the things that lead to that position. Mangetout, you know how highly I think of you, but on this issue, it looks like we must disagree.
Respectfully,
CJ