Gina Pugliese

Tag: Abortion

  • I Wouldn’t Die to Have a Baby

    I Wouldn’t Die to Have a Baby

    Thoughts about Pregnancy, Disability, and Loss

    Ultrasound at eight weeks of pregnancy.

    This post was originally posted on my Substack on May 29, 2025.

    For weeks, I have been trying to write this account before my mind and body grow too distant from the physical and emotional shock I endured trying to get and stay pregnant. To tell this story, I first have to admit to you that I was indeed trying to get pregnant and that I wanted to be a parent despite these sick, apocalyptic times. It’s a hard thing to own up to, especially since so many of my friends are childless millennials who exchange memes about how awesome it is to remain childless and protest the ethnofascist Trump administration, which is pushing a pro-natalist, fascist “hero mother” agenda.

    Although I was never formally diagnosed, I had hyperemesis gravidarum (HG), an allergy to the pregnancy hormone that forced me to end my pregnancy in its twelfth week. I want to tell you all about it because, despite being a condition that has affected women for centuries, it is very little researched and discussed.

    I am also compelled to write about it because, despite being a feminist with a strong sense of self who believes in an individual’s right to stay pregnant or not for any reason, I irrationally feel like I have to justify my abortion.

    This writing isn’t a finished or polished essay. It is more of an outline for something that might become an essay if I can ever organize my time and thoughts well enough to write it. Something about being so incredibly ill has scrambled my brain and dulled my thoughts and feelings about the incident. While you might be reading this thinking, Yes, of course you just want to relish feeling well again and move on, I’m grappling to understand why this new experience of loss and grief hasn’t fueled my creative productivity like similar experiences have in the past.

    Writing about becoming disabled and therefore unable to carry out a pregnancy feels deflating and brings an all-too-familiar surge of bile up my throat. Childbirth is supposed to be natural, something women’s bodies simply know how to do. Yet, nothing about my pregnancy felt natural.

    I think confronting disability for the first time in my otherwise able-bodied life is a huge part of this writing block I am experiencing. I need to contemplate this idea more, but this happening will probably continue to be the hardest part of my life to revisit and make sense of.

    After so much throat clearing, let’s begin: The symptoms of HG include severe nausea and vomiting that plague a person for months. Some scholars believe HG killed the 19th-century writer Charlotte Brontë after she got married at thirty-nine (I am also thirty-nine, which isn’t as old by 21st-century standards) and became pregnant with her first child. Unable to keep down food or water, Brontë succumbed to starvation and dehydration just as her appetite was starting to return to her. Today, women still die from HG, and yet we haven’t fully concluded what causes it or how it might be prevented.

    At six weeks of pregnancy, I took being constantly nauseous as a blessing because it meant that the placenta was developing normally, and the chances of miscarriage were slim. I was concerned about pregnancy loss because, at six weeks pregnant at the end of September, I lost my first pregnancy. Because of the physical pain of that miscarriage and the lack of care and compassion I received in the emergency room, I questioned if I would ever try to get pregnant again.

    I couldn’t go through another miscarriage. I wouldn’t.

    And yet, some women do, over and over again, because they want a child so badly. Although I wanted a baby, I never wanted one badly enough to continue to hurt myself. For this reason, my husband and I agreed that if my next pregnancy didn’t work out, we wouldn’t try again.

    I know everyone is different, and we shouldn’t compare ourselves to others. However, one of the lingering outcomes of my ordeal is this unshakeable, false thought that only mothers who want it badly enough get to have children. It doesn’t matter how ridiculous this sounds. It is a reflection of how deeply I am feeling the stigma of being an objectively healthy woman who cannot give birth.

    When my body healed quickly after my first pregnancy loss, my mind soon forgot everything, too. I began tracking my ovulation again, went to acupuncture, and promptly got pregnant for a second time. So, as uncomfortable as I found myself in my second pregnancy once the nausea kicked in, I also felt like I was finally having a “normal” one.

    At first, it didn’t occur to me that I wasn’t tackling morning sickness. Although I heard that some women stay sick for their entire pregnancies, I had hoped this wouldn’t be the case for me. Plus, I had never heard of HG, so I didn’t know to fear it.

    Different from HG, morning sickness is mild to moderate nausea that peaks around weeks eight through ten before tapering off. Many women experience morning sickness, but some women don’t. The fact that these lucky women exist makes me question the rationale my pregnancy app provided that morning sickness evolved to help women detect toxins in foods and therefore protect themselves and their fetuses. Nausea during pregnancy seems to me to be an evolutionary fluke that modern medicine should be able to circumvent by now. There’s no reason why all pregnancies shouldn’t be easy and comfortable, shouldn’t feel “natural.”

    The severity of my nausea came on slowly, but even in its mildest version, I couldn’t wait for it to go away. Before my first appointment with my OB, I called the clinic asking if I could be prescribed anti-nausea medication because all of the tips and tricks my pregnancy app suggested—B6, Unisom, acupressure, acupuncture, a bland diet, ginger, etc.— were not working.

    “You look so tired,” my OB told me on my first appointment with her, around week seven. “It’s hard to grow a human, isn’t it?”

    “This is just what pregnancy is like,” a doctor told me at an urgent care clinic I went to, seeking IV hydration around week eight. The clinic didn’t provide IVs, though. Instead, I was directed to the ER where, with insurance, an IV would cost upwards of 500 dollars. So, I checked myself into one of those med spa IV bars for people with hangovers. If I hadn’t, I would have had to wait two more weeks for my insurance to approve a special IV clinic for me to go to.

    At one of my IV bar appointments, the nurse who attended to me shared how awful her nausea was for both of her pregnancies. “The first one was bad, and the second one was worse,” she said. “But you get through it. You’re strong, you can do it.”

    This is a refrain I would hear again and again as I collected stories from the mothers I met while I was pregnant: “You will get through it.” And the proof was evident—these women had lived to tell the tale.

    Now that I didn’t get through it, that I didn’t end up with a baby like these women who certainly had HG, too, I can’t help but feel like a failure. Even if they had been ignorant of HG and the risks it poses, they were able to ignore all of the alarm bells going off in their bodies; they were able to sacrifice everything to bring life into the world. So the question still pesters me: Is there something wrong with not being one of those women who want a baby so badly that she would torture herself for it or even die?

    I know the answer is “no.” But one of the reasons I want to give this account is to defend myself against the non-existent critics, the ones I’ve only imagined and haven’t encountered, who are telling me that I did something wrong. And even though I haven’t met these attackers, I know they give voice to a general social gaze under which we are all socialized to recognize and adhere to normative gender expectations, in this case, the normative behavior of the self-sacrificing, motherly woman.

    Unlike morning sickness, HG gets worse and worse. Sometimes it goes away in the second trimester, around week twenty. Sometimes it lasts the whole pregnancy, not ending until the placenta leaves the body (the evil, alien organ that pumps out the pregnancy hormone).

    For a month and a half, everything made me sick. Smells, tastes, movement, touch, light, dark, sounds—anything stimulating. I couldn’t walk or be driven without feeling queasy. I needed fresh air, but I couldn’t handle the sun. I felt isolated, but I hated being around people. I needed to wash my hair, but the sensation of the water hitting me from the showerhead was unbearable. I would cry, usually into a bowl of oatmeal I was forcing myself to eat before I threw it up, and feel more sick. I would stop myself from laughing. I wasn’t permitted emotions, but I couldn’t turn them off either.

    My husband moved into a different room, and, as much as I craved to be taken into his arms, I wouldn’t let him near me. No one and nothing could comfort me.

    I stopped going to community college classes I was taking in Santa Fe with a month remaining in the semester. I quit my part-time job. I became bedridden and had to ask my mother to come from Wyoming to help take care of me.

    I lost nearly twenty pounds. Even when I could keep food and water down, I had a strong aversion to both and was forced to be anorexic. In the morning, it took me three hours to eat a frozen waffle. Most days, though, I subsisted on a slice of watermelon and a tangerine. It is going to take me a while to be able to stomach fruit again since citrus was one of the only tastes I found somewhat palatable.

    In some cruel twist of evolutionary biology, my sense of smell was ramped up to 1000%. If I had been afflicted with food cravings, this super sense would have been awesome. Being sick, though, it made everything less appetizing. The smell of my own body or the taste of my own saliva often had me running to the bathroom.

    By week eight, I was getting IVs for hydration. Although I was on anti-nausea meds around the clock, they would wear off in the middle of the night, waking me up to a fit of vomiting that I couldn’t stop for hours. I was neither sleeping nor able to rest. There was nothing I could do to heal or nourish myself.

    One night, when I couldn’t stop vomiting, my nose started bleeding. Another night, I had to wake up my husband (who wasn’t able to sleep through my retching anyway) to remove a giant cockroach from the toilet seat before I could continue being sick. After that occurrence, I lay in bed waiting for the next round to begin and said out loud, “If I’m supposed to keep this pregnancy, give me a sign.”

    I knew a sign wouldn’t come, especially if I didn’t specify what the sign should be. Because I didn’t specify, everything became an ambivalent symbol that could be interpreted as either for or against keeping my pregnancy.

    If I had owned a Magic 8 ball, I might have considered using it, but I would have been too weak to shake it.

    The next morning, sick of being sick, I had my mother take me to a hotel bar with outdoor seating in a lavender garden overlooking the Sandia Mountains. At the bar, scrutinizing the zero-proof menu for something that might let me taste it, a woman was having brunch with another woman, discussing her nausea. I butted into their conversation, asking the woman if she was pregnant.

    “No,” she said, “But I had the worst nausea during my pregnancy.” She told me a familiar HG tale: she lost weight, subsisted on crackers, and didn’t get well until her delivery day. “People always ask me why I only had one child, and that’s why. I couldn’t do that again,” she said.

    When I told her that I was pregnant and struggling, she said, “I wish I could give you some advice. But don’t worry, you’ll get through it.”

    In that moment, I realized I didn’t want to get through it. When I had asked for a sign the night before, I had already begun talking myself into terminating my pregnancy. My aversion to this woman’s story about powering through the worst experience I could imagine—an experience I was already living—cemented my resolve, and I took this feeling as my sign.

    I wrote a message to my medical team on the MyChart app, telling them I wanted to know about my options to end my pregnancy. They tried to convince me to use a Zofran pump (like an insulin pump but for anti-nausea meds) and go into the IV clinic twice a week, both of which my insurance had just approved.

    Despite their encouragement, they couldn’t assure me that I would feel better any time soon. My symptoms could last, and get worse, for a few more weeks or another six months. At that point, I couldn’t take even one more day.

    I also didn’t want to have to get poked with needles anymore. My intuition told me I was on track for hospitalization and a feeding tube, which would have led to my complete mental undoing.

    Plus, the longer I put it off, the harder it would be to end it. The fetus would continue to grow, its heart would keep beating, and I would feel more invested in delivering it—if I didn’t, what would all of my suffering have been for? And yet, no one could guarantee that I or the fetus would survive this trial.

    My medical team never diagnosed me with HG—I came to this conclusion through independent research and validation from friends in the medical field. My medical team never warned me about the toll HG would take on me and could take on my unborn baby. They never told me that HG leads to psychological and behavioral problems in children—like autism, depression, and bipolar disorder—and PTSD and anxiety disorders in mothers, along with sepsis, starvation, and death.

    Even though we live in a blue state, they never mentioned the word “abortion.” They only said, “Let’s try a drug called Phenergan if the Zofran isn’t working. Now, do you want to hear the baby’s heartbeat?” I had to be brave enough to think of other possibilities without guidance or reassurance.

    Unbelievably, only five percent of people with HG end their pregnancies. They endure hospitalization and feeding tubes and emergency C-sections because they are too weak to give birth. I’ve read accounts where people with HG contemplate suicide over abortion because they don’t consider abortion an option. Some women, like Jessica Cronshaw in Texas, where abortion laws are very strict, do end up committing suicide.

    I was throwing up uncontrollably in the waiting room the day I went to the women’s clinic for the procedure. They gave me Zofran and promised to take good care of me. In fact, they provided me with the best care I received through this whole nightmare. They even got me funding, so I didn’t have to pay a cent. I paid so much more and received much less quality care for my miscarriage.

    As soon as the procedure was over, I was able to eat and drink. The relief was instantaneous. I can’t adequately explain the torture of being endlessly nauseous. Unrelenting pain would have been much preferred.

    Physically, I am recovering quickly. My muscles have atrophied, and I get sore after walking around the block. However, I am slowly building back strength and muscle.

    I think my brain atrophied a little, too, since I also gave up writing, learning, and thinking while I was in a state in which it was impossible to do anything but agonize and feel sorry for myself.

    Emotionally, I am going to be unwell for a while.

    Right now, I am so angry that a pregnancy without suffering and loss is unavailable to many of us. In a recent NPR story, I learned that doctors will—for the first time—be required to administer pain-reducing drugs to women who get IUDs inserted and parts of their uterus biopsied. For decades, women, including me, have undergone these painful procedures without any pain alleviation. To this end, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that we don’t care about women suffering in pregnancy either.

    A few days after my procedure, I went on a brief vacation to a scenic town near Albuquerque with a Spanish colonial church. The church is known for its healing dirt, which I have never believed in. My father had been a believer, though. Even so, the magic dirt didn’t postpone his early death due to lung cancer. When my family cleaned out his car after he passed, we found a satchel of dirt and a bottle of holy water in the glove compartment.

    In the entryway of the church, I saw a plaque dedicated to the lives lost from abortion. Obviously this was triggering. Obviously such ignorant mourning of the non-life of an aborted embryo erases and devalues the very obvious living-breathing life of the mother.

    Interestingly, the plaque didn’t trigger anger toward my father. One thing I can say in his favor is that he was a progressive Catholic who stood by abortion. To this end, I also felt a rare sense of pride in that moment.

    Plaque in the Chimayo Sanctuario, Chimayo, New Mexico.

    I wish I could share with the Knights of Columbus, who dedicated this plaque, as well as all anti-abortionists, a copy of the journal I flipped through in the recovery room at the women’s clinic. Every story was from a person who did not want to end their pregnancy. They wrote about babies whose hearts stopped beating in their wombs. They apologized to their unborn children, asking them to wait for them, to hold out for a time in their lives when they could provide them a good life. They reiterated again and again that they never wanted to make this decision in the first place.

    So now I have become another woman who feels obligated to defend her choices, even when it didn’t seem like she had any.

    I am also dealing with the realization that I have no control over my body or my future. I knew this already, but when you identify as able-bodied and socially privileged, you delude yourself into thinking that you have more control than other people. The truth is, there is no division between those with control and those without it. I am just another woman testifying that she is out of control.

    Thanks for reading. To stay current with all of my writing, subscribe to my Substack here.

  • “Dear Don” During the Dark Enlightenment

    “Dear Don” During the Dark Enlightenment

    In Which I Revive a Letter-Writing Practice to the Dead As an Excuse to Rant about the Last Five Years

    Don Hershey and a Saks Fifth Avenue Christmas window display, December circa 2008.

    Dear Don,

    After you took your life in early December 2019 in a tent in the frozen high prairie of Vedauwoo National Park, Wyoming, my first mournful impulse was to write letters to you.1 At first, these letters tried to make sense of your existence, the interwovenness of our lives, your death wish, and the events leading up to your life-taking. Since the COVID-19 pandemic erupted right at the heels of my grief, my writings also unpacked how you might have responded to this crisis.

    You wanted the world to do better, and, for a minute during government-enforced city lockdowns, it felt like society was glimpsing a new world after a radical social restructuring. The pandemic necessitated Economic Impact Payments from the US government and enrolled many citizens into Medicaid. It was also a period of the resurgence of Black Lives Matter, spurred, of course, by an uptick in police killings of Black people. Many hoped these deaths wouldn’t be in vain as BLM ignited national discussions about the corruption and violence of the police and a desire to defund them.

    Additionally, people weren’t required to give so much of their time and lives to a workplace as they worked from home or were furloughed. Some were forgiven for defaulting on rent and mortgage payments. Others flatly refused to pay rent at all. There were even talks of canceling student loan debt.

    I know I have your attention now. Many of these previously unlivable conditions—student loan debt, unaffordable rent, giving your time and best years of your life to your employer—were factors that instigated your deep disdain for life and possibly influenced your suicide.

    Me, my mother, and Damien in Albuquerque, NM, circa December 2017

    Of course, the beginning of the pandemic was never completely utopic. People, especially young people, were crippled by the stress and trauma of severe isolation. Suicide rates among the youth were escalating before COVID-19 and continue to increase. People who felt despair similar to your own were pushed to their brink after obligatory quarantine. But this despair was markedly different from yours, too. Loneliness and isolation were not the predominant circumstances forcing you to an early grave. After all, the year before you died, you placed yourself on house arrest in your parent’s basement in Cheyenne, Wyoming—the most forlorn state with the highest suicide rates.

    If you had survived the early years of the pandemic—and the socialism-lite of the US government as it momentarily provided for its populace through hardship—you wouldn’t have lasted much longer. By 2023, we were on the other side of the instant global emergency the virus sparked, but, despite the relinquishing of government aid and implementation of mask-banning legislation, we still haven’t left it behind us. Instead, we left behind the momentum to push through social change as hope was deferred–even spurned–by the people with enough wealth and authority to push it past bureaucratic barricades.

    The police weren’t defunded, but cop cities—police training campuses—rolled out across the nation. People went back to a broken healthcare system where insurance denials and high prescription drug costs kill in an absurdly for-profit enterprise. Rent and home loan percentages went up and are rising as large investors buy up more and more housing stock. Student loan debt wasn’t canceled; it probably never will be. The conservative super majority overturned Roe v. Wade. Let me repeat that: Abortion is now illegal or greatly limited in many states. And, as will come as no surprise to anyone paying attention to these developments, authoritarianism across the entire world is expanding while democracies dwindle.

    Apathetically looking to 2025 in January, we remain unsure about the amelioration of inflation due to price gouging, error-prone AI algorithms determining denial for medical claims, a surge in book bans as the far Right censors critical race and queer theories, and a beyond horrific genocide in Palestine funded with an unprecedented amount of US tax dollars.

    I’ve remarked to many of our shared friends that if you hadn’t yet killed yourself, the extension of US war-mongering and imperialist presence in the Middle East, bolstering Israeli apartheid and its ongoing project to exterminate Palestinians and Arabs, would have been the very last straw. These events would have confirmed for you that there is nothing to witness here but the death and destruction deliberately fueled by the sliver of the population that profits from such disasters, natural or otherwise. 2

    Me and Damien in the bathroom of Maggiano’s on the 16th Street Mall, Denver, where he was my date to my work’s Christmas party in 2018.

    But then, with the very recent widespread approval of Luigi Magione’s assassination of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson—prompting a national discussion about how lethal US health insurance companies are—would you change your mind again? Would you have been roused to “fuck around and find out” (a kids-these-days saying that didn’t yet exist for you)? I have to admit that occurrences like this one, which has united communities otherwise at odds in terms of their social-political identities, give me a lot of hope. Maybe, eventually, our collective anger will set us free. Your anger, on the other hand, died with you in your selfish search for freedom.

    These last five years have been too much of a rollercoaster of hope and disappointment to say for sure what may or may not have shortened or prolonged your life. Debating this is also moot since your scattered ashes are immune to my ploys to draw you back into (political) consciousness.

    Nevertheless, I feel compelled to tell you about the Democratic party’s completed transformation as the new big-business-over-people Republican party, ensuring a win for Trump and his Project 2025 backers. Kamala Harris ran an arrogant presidential campaign, giving US citizens an ultimatum: Vote for me or lose democracy. Meanwhile, she cozied up with Dick and Liz Cheney for endorsements, reminded us about her proud gun ownership during an ongoing pandemic of school mass shootings, and kept repeating that she would ensure we have the “most lethal” military in the world even as we begged for an end to foreign wars and genocide. During her tone-deaf campaign speeches, she also coldly shut-up pro-Palestian protestors who could never dream of reaching an AIPAC-funded candidate anyway.

    Considering that the Biden administration still has time but hasn’t made moves to forgive debts and push through pro-trans, pro-immigrant, and pro-abortion legislation, do you think anyone regrets abandoning the Democrats? In fact, at this moment, all Biden has done to preserve his legacy is pardon his son, which, granted, is a lot more understandable than his subsequent pardoning of a corrupt judge found guilty of sending innocent children to a for-profit prison.

    Satanic Christmas cookies Damien and I made in Taos, NM, for Christmas 2017.

    None of this is to say that we would have been in a worse position if Harris had won. Trump is clearly the greater of two evils, planning to follow through on his campaign promises for immigrant mass deportations and new tariffs that will surely make inflation and the economy worse. For me, the scariest part is his eagerness to let a bunch of elitist billionaires with white supremacist, pro-natalist agendas flood the White House. Elon Musk, in his new official government role in the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE, get it? That has been around long enough for you to remember), is already working to chip away at social security benefits, starting with depriving veterans of healthcare.

    Musk is not the only malignant tech mogul who supports Trump and JD Vance (the latter of who emerged on the national political scene by proclaiming that childless cat ladies shouldn’t have the right to vote). Silicon Valley comic-book-worthy villains Peter Thiel and Curtis Yarvin also support this incoming administration because it is their mission to infiltrate the government with people who want to destroy democracy, establish an anti-egalitarian techno-monarchy, and throw us all into the Dark Enlightenment.

    Me, Krampus, my husband, Ivan, and my friend, Alicia, posing for a festive photo in 2021.

    Perhaps you remember Thiel as the hypersensitive billionaire who made it his mission to shut down Gawker—a former New York-based celebrity gossip blog—after they outed him as gay? He’s exactly the kind of misogynist, self-loathing gay man we would have taken a lot of pleasure in disparaging together. How can anyone listen to him talk about heteronormative futurity—saying that we need to have more children because of declining birth rates—and not also hear his glaring interest in propagating a slave class of un-woke, un-unionized workers to do his lordly bidding?

    Yarvin is a more shadowy figure whose self-published philosophies under the pen name Mencius Moldbug on his former blog and current Substack have garnered admiration from JD Vance as well as Steve Bannon (you were around for the first Trump administration, so maybe you remember Bannon as the chief strategist who only lasted a few months before Trump dismissed him). I predict that Yarvin will be the target of a lot of Lord of the Rings memes, a text that he, like you, is obsessed with. Writer Corey Pein sums up this Tolkien obsession well:

    [Like] many big race theorists in Silicon Valley Thiel and Yarvin adore J.R.R. Tolkien, which can be read as an epic glorification of a winner-take-all race war. Tolkien’s trilogy also conveniently doubles as a regressive fantasy universe where heroic Nordic souls either gain power by force or come into it via birthright—in both scenarios, a lineage that leaves them untroubled by the irksome niceties of democratic procedure.

    Of course, your obsession with LOTR didn’t have to do with the rise of an ethnonational dictatorship. You just liked the idea of living in a hobbit home in the Shire with occasional jaunts to the achingly beautiful Lórien. I’m sure Lórien is exactly how you imagined the afterlife and one of the reasons you wanted to enter it so badly.

    Pro-Palestine farolitos in Old Town, Albuquerque, 2023.

    With 2025 just around the corner, it feels impossible to usher in this new year without reflecting on the last five years. Maybe for this reason, the year of your death feels closer in time than it is.

    Don’t think that I have forgotten how much you hated current events. You were always violently opposed to being forced to participate in social-political phenomena. Once, on a road trip, I was driving and took control of the radio, landing on a news show. You protested with a surprising amount of passion, telling me you didn’t want to listen to it. You flipped off the radio. I flipped it back on. You screamed and violently pulled a hood over your head as you drew your knees to your chest and forced yourself to sleep.

    It was a jarring exchange that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. Hearing about politics and war forced you to contend with a reality already dead to you, and I was the bully pushing you into a corner like a wild, trapped animal, reminding you that you couldn’t really escape it as long as you were alive.

    Sandhill Crane tracks in Corrales, New Mexico, December 2023.

    Many of the events of the last five years have been fomenting for the few decades you were alive, and I know you would have paid as little attention to recent developments as you did the old ones. Yet, despite knowing that my musings would have fallen on deaf ears, I still force them upon you, trying to find a way to make you feel trapped here with me again.

    If there is a circle of hell or purgatory that one goes to for suicide, I hope that, for you, it includes being forced to read my letters and contend with the world you left behind. You left as an act of resistance, expecting to bypass all hardships and lessons for enlightenment in a Lórien beyond. But, in my unprovable sense of metaphysics, I don’t think there is such a bypass. We are recycled, microscopic particles as old as our universe.

    On some cellular level, you are out there, infinitely dispersed and contending with an evolution of the same horrors and injustices we all must endure. You are part of the epic unfolding of history whether you want to be or not. In this sense, as these events and stories continue to tell themselves, you, like the rest of us, still haven’t found freedom.

    Subscribe to Gina’s Substack
    1. Donald Graham Hershey legally changed his name To Damien Moreau in 2017. In previous social media posts and a private blog, I have been calling Don by the name Damien even though he existed for much longer as Don. I am continually torn about how to address him. When I address him as Damien, I imagine I am addressing his dark side. Damien turned toward despair and death. Don, on the other hand, was full of light, naivete, and life. For these reasons, I’ve been trying to think of him as Don again, a version of himself that represents him at his best. ↩︎
    2. I have other posts about Palestine here and here. ↩︎
    List of Gina’s Publications

  • A Brief History of (White) Women’s Rights in Wyoming

    The Equality State: the first state to grant women’s voting rights, and the first state to make abortion medication illegal.

    A picture of me hiking around Sinks Canyon near Lander, Wyoming in May 2023.

    Growing up in Cheyenne, I had a cynical view of Wyoming’s nickname, “The Equality State.” My self-righteous teenage eyes rolled in my head at the sight of Susan B. Anthony’s statue in front of the Cheyenne Capitol building. “She’s not even from Wyoming,” I would tell people who already knew that fact. “And Wyoming only gave women the right to vote to increase its population enough to become a state,” I’d add for those who didn’t ask.

    To my false-information-spreading credit, no one ever corrected me. First, the statue represents Esther Morris, the first woman to hold an office as Wyoming’s Justice of the Peace in 1870 (fifty years before the 19th Amendment gave all women nationwide the right to vote in 1920). Second, historians remain uncertain about why Wyoming successfully legislated women’s suffrage since no official document details the event except newspaper clippings announcing the bill’s triumph. 

    Let’s briefly consider the historical context: In 1869, the 15th Amendment granted universal suffrage to men, including formerly enslaved, Black men. That same year, with the transcontinental railroad’s completion, Wyoming became a coherent territory from pieces of Dakota, Idaho, and Utah. Republican President Ulysses S. Grant instated a Republican governor, and William Bright, a Democrat (conservative like the majority of Democrats and Wyoming residents in the late 19th century), was elected Territory Council President.1“Woman Suffrage,” National Geographic, accessed May 28, 2023, https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/woman-suffrage/. 

    Considering these circumstances, various reasons account for early woman suffrage in Wyoming. Regarding the conservative leanings of the Wyoming territory, one possible factor includes the desire to embarrass the Republican governor and boost the Democrats. Bright’s racism constitutes another potential reason. Originally from Virginia and opposed to the 15th Amendment, Bright introduced the woman suffrage bill claiming that if Black men vote, so should his wife (significantly,  Mrs. Bright strongly supported woman suffrage). 2Tom Rea, “Right Choice, Wrong Reasons: Wyoming Women Win the Right to Vote,” WyoHistory.Org, accessed May 28, 2023, https://www.wyohistory.org/encyclopedia/right-choice-wrong-reasons-wyoming-women-win-right-vote. 

    Noting the ubiquitous racism in the Sweetwater Mining District (where both Esther Morris and the Brights resided), historian Michael Massie observes that “the town’s newspapers often printed derogatory and racist articles concerning Chinese and Blacks,” evidencing the general xenophobic atmosphere Bright contributed to.3 Michael Massie, “The Roots of Woman Suffrage in Wyoming,” Internet Archive, accessed May 28, 2023, https://archive.org/details/annalsofwyom621231990wyom/.  Indeed, this mining area in the state’s center (in today’s Fremont County) played a significant role in the history of Wyoming woman suffrage. As the region’s population declined with the end of the gold rush, residents wanted to attract more people, particularly women (who constituted 24% of its population). Increasing the territory’s population–or making the region a more desirable place for the “right” (white) people to live–additionally compelled the case for women’s voting rights.  4Massie, “The Roots of Woman Suffrage in Wyoming”; Massie expands on the complicated feelings surrounding woman suffrage in the South Pass: “Ironically, South Pass City opposed woman suffrage as much as, or more than, any other Wyoming settlement at the same time that Bright ‘s sponsorship of the woman suffrage bill and Morris’ tenure as justice were focusing national attention on the town. The general opposition to woman suffrage included both sexes, for most of the women refused to become involved in politics— voting or otherwise. As a result of this attitude, Esther Morris, a Republican, was the only woman to attend South Pass City’s Democratic meeting in September, 1870, and only eight women, 11 percent of the eligible female electorate, voted in the ensuing elections.” Moreover, as Massie goes on to discuss, these feelings were quickly reversed: “By late 1871, most of the remaining citizens in the Sweetwater mining district had gradually accepted woman suffrage, particularly after witnessing Esther Morris’ success as a justice of the peace. Thus, the area’s antagonism toward woman suffrage was declining while opposition in the territory was increasing.” And judging by the lack of ethnic diversity in the state today, Wyoming, the equality state, carries on this legacy.  5According to Tennessee Jane Watson in an interview for Wyoming Public Radio with The Wyoming Community Foundation, while enrollment of non-white students in the public school system is on the rise, and non-white people make up 15% of the Wyoming population (which is already the least populated state in the U.S.), it is still a majority White state. (“Does Race Matter in Wyoming?” published on November 6, 2020, https://www.wyomingpublicmedia.org/open-spaces/2020-11-06/does-race-matter-in-wyoming.) Additionally, if you want to find the equivalent form of xenophobic pulse-taking like Massie’s study of 19th-century periodicals in the Sweetwater Mining Distritct, check out the Reddit threads regarding Wyoming. In this one, “In Riverton, Arrest Data Shows Large Racial Disparities Persist,” accesed on May 30, 2023, Wyomingites show their true colors: https://www.reddit.com/r/wyoming/comments/11osfyj/in_riverton_arrest_data_shows_large_racial/.  

    A display case in a historic saloon in Atlantic City, one of the gold rush era mining towns near South Pass City where Bright opened his saloon.

     While we don’t know if any or all of these elements were actually discussed and debated as the bill became a law, we do know that Wyoming fought to keep women’s right to vote even at the risk of being denied statehood. In 1889, when Wyoming applied for statehood, the U.S. Congress challenged Wyoming’s recognition of woman suffrage. Wyoming didn’t back down, and when it became a state in 1890, Governor Francis E. Warren stated:  “Our best people and in fact all classes are almost universally in favor of women suffrage. A few women and a few men still entertain prejudice against it, but I know of no argument having been offered to show its ill effects in Wyoming.” 6“Woman Suffrage.”

    Taken in the winter of 2023 in Hudson, WY in Fremont County.

    Thus, starting with woman suffrage, nuance, ambivalence, and irony abound in the history of women’s rights in Wyoming. As Massie points out, it’s undoubtedly incredibly ironic that Bright presented the bill for woman suffrage as an anti-Black saloon owner who might otherwise distance himself from the Temperance Movement and the abolitionist stance of the Suffragists. Despite the inexplicable success of the bill, though, Massie defensively boasts about Wyoming’s path to equality: “As some of the events associated with woman suffrage in Wyoming from 1869-71 prove, several unrelated ideas, both ideal and utilitarian, may suddenly create the opportunity for the birth of reform. The fact that Wyoming passed woman suffrage, refused to repeal it, and later insisted that it would never become a state without the reform should make its citizens proud that the reform was first ‘found’ in Wyoming.”7 Massie, “The Roots of Woman Suffrage in Wyoming.”

    Yet, I don’t feel very proud. Maybe it’s because “several unrelated ideas, both ideal and utilitarian, may suddenly create the opportunity for the birth of reform” is a dispiriting way to achieve radical and necessary social reconstruction. To rephrase Massie, it doesn’t matter how reform is achieved as long as it is indeed achieved. So let’s celebrate the suspect self-interests of men who brought their conservative, anti-Black politics from the southern U.S. before inadvertently making one right thing happen in Wyoming!    

    Maybe, too, I can’t feel prideful because of the complicated ways racism and misogyny are imbricated in our national fabric. As the annals of the passing of the 15th and 19th amendments illuminate, this nation has repeatedly pitted white women against ethnic minorities, letting us fight each other for social-political visibility and viability and thereby precluding any enduring alliance for extensive and inclusive social justice. 8While Wyoming indeed ratified the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) in 1973, guaranteeing equal rights for all U.S. citizens regardless of sex, the ERA never received enough votes in Congress to make it a nationally recognized and guaranteed amendment. I only point this out because the thirteenth amendment, which passed in 1865, abolished slavery and gave all men equal rights regardless of race. This defense of the rights of men regardless of race or country of origin and the subsequent snubbing of women as fully recognized citizens exemplifies the perpetually fraught social justice enterprise of  simultaneously opposing racism and sexism. Moreover, the lack of constitutional language that guarantees the rights of all citizens regardless of sex (and this very much includes the reversal of Roe vs. Wade) has rendered queer and non-binary folks particularly vulnerable. Currently, we are witnessing a tumult of anti-Drag Queen and anti-trans legislation (that most disturbingly takes the form of denying children access to gender-affirming health care), which something like the ERA would have helped us better oppose.      

    Maybe, because this country’s history of law and politics has always been marked by ambivalence, irony, and other arbitrary factors, I only feel slight embarrassment. Why is it that when something “good” and “just” somehow gets legislated, we effuse regional and national pride about our unaccountable success instead of critiquing the blind spots of our praxis of democracy?

    Taken in Spring 2023 in Dubois, WY near the Wind River Reservation.

    Last year, before I moved back to Wyoming, I felt a fleeting flurry of pride for my Wyomingite mother, currently a registered Independent, who momentarily registered Republican to vote for Liz Cheney (daughter of the incarnate of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Sauron, aka former Vice President, Dick Cheney) in her campaign against fellow Republican Harriet Hageman for the one Wyoming seat in the House of Representatives. 9I don’t think it’s a controversial point to argue that Dick Cheney is a power-hungry monster who used his advanced political position to expand executive power and amass his own personal wealth as much as possible. As Conor Friedersdorf reminds us in his article for The Atlantic, “Remembering Why Americans Loathe Dick Cheney, ”he had an approval rating of 13% by the time he left his office as the Vice President. And for many good reasons: During the Iraq war, he and Donald Rumsfeld created their own “alternative intelligence agency” in order to hype up the need for war by spreading false information and thereby cementing his own power and authority while getting rich through his private business association with Halliburton. Friedersdorf expands on how Cheney achieved slimeball status: “After Cheney enriched himself by exploiting contacts with various corrupt Arab autocrats that he made while drawing a public salary, he returned to public life as vice president. Halliburton donated to his campaign, and got numerous lucrative contracts during the Bush administration’s tenure, even as it was discovered to have overcharged the U.S. for prior services rendered.” Most notably, in terms of faulty information, Cheney and Rumsfeld claimed there was evidence of “weapons of mass destruction” in Iraq when they knew they were non-existent. They also falsely linked Saddam Hussein with the terrorist group Al Qaeda. Cheney also has admitted to being instrumental in instituting waterboarding, a form of torture, as a legit interrogation tactic during the Bush Administration. And, he ensured that innocent prisoners stayed indefinitely at Guantanamo Bay by giving the U.S. power to detain these people without allowing them a fair trial. Friedersdorf also reminds us that Cheney initiated “an NSA operation to monitor the phone calls and emails of U.S. citizens without a warrant, part of which later became known as the Terrorist Surveillance Program.” For a full account, see Friedersdorf’s article, published on August 30, 2011: https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2011/08/remembering-why-americans-loathe-dick-cheney/244306/. This turn of events particularly highlights the torturous ambivalence of Wyoming politics and the women who spearhead them. 

    When Cheney lost favor with her own party after leading the legal hearings on the 2021 January Sixth Insurrection on the U.S. government (carried out by the Proud Boys, President Trump’s ride-or-dies who stormed the Capitol under his blessing), she gained favor among moderates and liberals opposed to Trump. In comparison to Hageman, a Trump-endorsed pro-gun, anti-abortion, anti-immigration neoconservative, Cheney, a Trump-reviled pro-gun, anti-abortion, anti-immigration neoconservative, looked appealing to registered voters who would never otherwise promote her political platforms. 

    Seen on paper and taken out of context, Cheney and Hageman might as well be the same woman, and my mom’s brief political deflection doesn’t make sense. Yet, how Cheney went against her party to criticize Trump and his indefensible claims of voter fraud during the  2020 presidential election made my family actually root for Cheney. In other words, in a stubbornly Red state like Wyoming (which, I might add, is the least populated and, so, least politically important state from a national perspective), you applaud yourself for political radicalism by splitting hairs and voting for the lesser of two evils. 

    Cheney lost this election, and Hageman went on to defeat the Democrat candidate, Lynette Grey Bull, an American Indian activist who “has been a longtime advocate for missing and slain Indigenous women and girls.” Grey Bull would have been the right choice for an equality state with a long history of supporting women’s rights. But, in 2020, Grey Bull lost to Cheney by a 44-point margin in the Wyoming House race and was expected to lose again whether she faced Cheney or Hageman (and she lost to Hageman by a 37-point margin).10Mead Gruver, “Hageman Faces Grey Bull for US House After Beating Cheney,” AP News, published on November 8, 2022, https://apnews.com/article/2022-midterm-elections-abortion-gun-politics-native-americans-wyoming-d6cf0db831edeaed63462932244de72c.  

    As found in a residential area in Lander, WY in May 2023.

    Recently, with the overturning of Roe vs. Wade, Wyoming again graced national news headlines by becoming the first state to try to ban abortion pills. Another first for women in Wyoming history! This past March, Republican Governor Mark Gordon signed a bill into law prohibiting all forms and dissemination of  “any drug for the purpose of procuring or performing an abortion.” 11Eric Lutz, “Wyoming Becomes First State to Ban Abortion Pills,” Vanity Fair, published March 18, 2023, https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2023/03/wyoming-becomes-first-state-to-ban-abortion-pills; We should note that Wyoming has stayed conservative throughout its political history even as the reputation for conservatism switched from Democrats to Republicans after the 19th century. Such a ruling was an additional twist of the knife by thhttps://www.vanityfair.com/news/2023/03/wyoming-becomes-first-state-to-ban-abortion-pillse anti-abortion legislation sweeping the country since those supporting women’s medical rights counted on the availability of these prescription drugs to help women in crisis facing limited or banned abortion resources. 

    Then, a judge in Teton County temporarily blocked Gordon’s law, ruling that a 2012 amendment to the state’s constitution (intended to stop President Barack Obama’s Affordable Care Act) made it a citizen’s right to make their own healthcare decisions. 12Annika Kim Constantino, “Wyoming Abortion Ban Blocked Due to Obamacare-Era Amendment,” CNBC.com, published March 24, 2023, https://www.cnbc.com/2023/03/24/wyoming-abortion-ban-blocked-due-to-obamacare-era-amendment.html#:~:text=The%20ban%20prohibits%20abortion%20in,prison%20and%20a%20%2420%2C000%20fine. In other words, Wyoming’s political conservatism, arguably in part motivated by racist opposition to a Black man’s political authority, once again forced Wyoming’s hand in upholding women’s rights. Sometimes history refracts itself.

    As I write this essay in May 2023, Judge Melissa Owen’s blocking of Wyoming’s ban on abortion pills holds even as the debate about whether or not abortion constitutes “health care” continues. I also find myself in Fremont County (in Lander, Wyoming), which still flaunts itself as the birthplace of women’s suffrage. 

    If you visit Lander, you’ll find Wyoming Catholic College, which is undeniably related to the “Real Men Choose Life” signs posted in residents’ yards and the “Pro-Life” stickers plastered on young women’s laptops in the coffee shops. The sloganeering of masculinity in conjunction with anti-abortion politics always gives me pause. Did anyone ever question the paternalistic, Christian upholding of fruitful, Adam-and-Eve-not-Adam-and-Steve nuclear family life? At least in Lander, sex sells sex inequality. 

    Red Canyon along the Popo Agie River near Lander, WY.

    Reflecting on my own coming-of-age in Cheyenne in the 1990s, I realized that abortion was always banned in Wyoming, just not officially.  In fact, while I know women from Wyoming who have had abortions, I don’t know anyone who had her abortion performed in Wyoming. I also realized that when I drove across state lines from Wyoming into Colorado (on my way toward the liberal oasis of Denver for music, art, and culture), those Pro-Life billboards showing an ultrasound photo of a fetus with a heartbeat line were strategically placed. They were meant to be seen as I retreated from Wyoming, on the highway to hell, to the land of Godless abortion access.

    Looking into the history of abortion clinics in Wyoming, the first article to appear in my search engine results was an Associated Press article about how, nearly one year ago, an anti-abortion, 22-year-old female college student burned down a new, soon-to-open abortion clinic in Casper. The clinic eventually opened despite the latest tenuous and restrictive abortion bans in the state (none of which existed when it originally intended to welcome patients). Before opening this clinic in Casper, only medication abortions were provided in a women’s health center in Jackson (in the far northwest corner of the state, below Yellowstone National Park, where the population has been slowly declining because no one but Dick Cheney and other millionaires can afford to live there). Moreover, as Mead Gruver for the AP reports, “[s]urgical abortions haven’t been available in a dedicated Wyoming clinic in at least a decade.” 13Mead Gruver, “Wyoming Abortion Clinic Opens Despite Arson, Legal Obstacles,” AP News, publised April 20, 2023, https://apnews.com/article/wyoming-abortion-clinic-arson-opens-f149c165fdaa0956fecdbff75488f7cb.

    I acknowledge the changed tone in this essay since I began it by academically laying out the history of Wyoming woman suffrage. I’m not trying to pivot into an argument for my  Pro-Choice politics and further ponder the internalized misogyny that has young women at the forefront of anti-abortion activism.  I know this debate is a true screaming match in which the only side we hear is our own. Yet, politics get more personal as we move into our contemporaneity.

     In truth, I’ve screamed in futile rage at the Pro-Life billboards I continue to see peppering the desolate flat prairie you contend with when you drive through Wyoming. The billboards don’t show fetuses and heartbeats anymore; they exhibit babies and young children with pleading eyes. One depicts a little girl in a pink leotard and tutu with a thought bubble reading: “When I grow up, I want to be a ballerina!” 

    “AND WHO WILL PAY FOR YOUR EXPENSIVE BALLET LESSONS?” I have shrieked at her, an innocent poster child for a fight she is unaware of. “WHO IS GOING TO PAY FOR YOUR BIRTH,” I add, myself a married, childless adult without health care who could not afford a birth even if I decided to carry an unplanned pregnancy to term before putting the baby up for adoption. And this is a horrible reason–being poor!–to have to give up a child you sacrifice nine months of physical comfort for before getting a perineal tear and praying to God that you aren’t another victim of the inexplicably high maternal mortality rates in this obscenely wealthy, “developed” nation. 

    In Sinks Canyon, near Lander, WY.

    If we cherish life, why aren’t we working on making this world liveable for all people with heartbeats? Why not just open up a free dance studio for the economically depressed?

    But look at me, getting sucked into “preaching to the choir,” rekindling the holier-than-thou tone of my radical youth. What was I talking about again? Oh, yes. Wyoming: the equality state. Or, riffing on its other nickname, the cowboy state where cowboys granted women suffrage so women could vote against their emancipation. Big Wyoming, where, for at least a limited time, you can get a medication abortion while two women’s health clinics are left standing to cover a state the size of the United Kingdom.  

    In Sinks Canyon, near Lander, WY.
    • 1
      “Woman Suffrage,” National Geographic, accessed May 28, 2023, https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/woman-suffrage/. 
    • 2
      Tom Rea, “Right Choice, Wrong Reasons: Wyoming Women Win the Right to Vote,” WyoHistory.Org, accessed May 28, 2023, https://www.wyohistory.org/encyclopedia/right-choice-wrong-reasons-wyoming-women-win-right-vote. 
    • 3
       Michael Massie, “The Roots of Woman Suffrage in Wyoming,” Internet Archive, accessed May 28, 2023, https://archive.org/details/annalsofwyom621231990wyom/.
    • 4
      Massie, “The Roots of Woman Suffrage in Wyoming”; Massie expands on the complicated feelings surrounding woman suffrage in the South Pass: “Ironically, South Pass City opposed woman suffrage as much as, or more than, any other Wyoming settlement at the same time that Bright ‘s sponsorship of the woman suffrage bill and Morris’ tenure as justice were focusing national attention on the town. The general opposition to woman suffrage included both sexes, for most of the women refused to become involved in politics— voting or otherwise. As a result of this attitude, Esther Morris, a Republican, was the only woman to attend South Pass City’s Democratic meeting in September, 1870, and only eight women, 11 percent of the eligible female electorate, voted in the ensuing elections.” Moreover, as Massie goes on to discuss, these feelings were quickly reversed: “By late 1871, most of the remaining citizens in the Sweetwater mining district had gradually accepted woman suffrage, particularly after witnessing Esther Morris’ success as a justice of the peace. Thus, the area’s antagonism toward woman suffrage was declining while opposition in the territory was increasing.”
    • 5
      According to Tennessee Jane Watson in an interview for Wyoming Public Radio with The Wyoming Community Foundation, while enrollment of non-white students in the public school system is on the rise, and non-white people make up 15% of the Wyoming population (which is already the least populated state in the U.S.), it is still a majority White state. (“Does Race Matter in Wyoming?” published on November 6, 2020, https://www.wyomingpublicmedia.org/open-spaces/2020-11-06/does-race-matter-in-wyoming.) Additionally, if you want to find the equivalent form of xenophobic pulse-taking like Massie’s study of 19th-century periodicals in the Sweetwater Mining Distritct, check out the Reddit threads regarding Wyoming. In this one, “In Riverton, Arrest Data Shows Large Racial Disparities Persist,” accesed on May 30, 2023, Wyomingites show their true colors: https://www.reddit.com/r/wyoming/comments/11osfyj/in_riverton_arrest_data_shows_large_racial/.  
    • 6
      “Woman Suffrage.”
    • 7
       Massie, “The Roots of Woman Suffrage in Wyoming.”
    • 8
      While Wyoming indeed ratified the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) in 1973, guaranteeing equal rights for all U.S. citizens regardless of sex, the ERA never received enough votes in Congress to make it a nationally recognized and guaranteed amendment. I only point this out because the thirteenth amendment, which passed in 1865, abolished slavery and gave all men equal rights regardless of race. This defense of the rights of men regardless of race or country of origin and the subsequent snubbing of women as fully recognized citizens exemplifies the perpetually fraught social justice enterprise of  simultaneously opposing racism and sexism. Moreover, the lack of constitutional language that guarantees the rights of all citizens regardless of sex (and this very much includes the reversal of Roe vs. Wade) has rendered queer and non-binary folks particularly vulnerable. Currently, we are witnessing a tumult of anti-Drag Queen and anti-trans legislation (that most disturbingly takes the form of denying children access to gender-affirming health care), which something like the ERA would have helped us better oppose.   
    • 9
      I don’t think it’s a controversial point to argue that Dick Cheney is a power-hungry monster who used his advanced political position to expand executive power and amass his own personal wealth as much as possible. As Conor Friedersdorf reminds us in his article for The Atlantic, “Remembering Why Americans Loathe Dick Cheney, ”he had an approval rating of 13% by the time he left his office as the Vice President. And for many good reasons: During the Iraq war, he and Donald Rumsfeld created their own “alternative intelligence agency” in order to hype up the need for war by spreading false information and thereby cementing his own power and authority while getting rich through his private business association with Halliburton. Friedersdorf expands on how Cheney achieved slimeball status: “After Cheney enriched himself by exploiting contacts with various corrupt Arab autocrats that he made while drawing a public salary, he returned to public life as vice president. Halliburton donated to his campaign, and got numerous lucrative contracts during the Bush administration’s tenure, even as it was discovered to have overcharged the U.S. for prior services rendered.” Most notably, in terms of faulty information, Cheney and Rumsfeld claimed there was evidence of “weapons of mass destruction” in Iraq when they knew they were non-existent. They also falsely linked Saddam Hussein with the terrorist group Al Qaeda. Cheney also has admitted to being instrumental in instituting waterboarding, a form of torture, as a legit interrogation tactic during the Bush Administration. And, he ensured that innocent prisoners stayed indefinitely at Guantanamo Bay by giving the U.S. power to detain these people without allowing them a fair trial. Friedersdorf also reminds us that Cheney initiated “an NSA operation to monitor the phone calls and emails of U.S. citizens without a warrant, part of which later became known as the Terrorist Surveillance Program.” For a full account, see Friedersdorf’s article, published on August 30, 2011: https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2011/08/remembering-why-americans-loathe-dick-cheney/244306/.
    • 10
      Mead Gruver, “Hageman Faces Grey Bull for US House After Beating Cheney,” AP News, published on November 8, 2022, https://apnews.com/article/2022-midterm-elections-abortion-gun-politics-native-americans-wyoming-d6cf0db831edeaed63462932244de72c. 
    • 11
      Eric Lutz, “Wyoming Becomes First State to Ban Abortion Pills,” Vanity Fair, published March 18, 2023, https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2023/03/wyoming-becomes-first-state-to-ban-abortion-pills; We should note that Wyoming has stayed conservative throughout its political history even as the reputation for conservatism switched from Democrats to Republicans after the 19th century.
    • 12
      Annika Kim Constantino, “Wyoming Abortion Ban Blocked Due to Obamacare-Era Amendment,” CNBC.com, published March 24, 2023, https://www.cnbc.com/2023/03/24/wyoming-abortion-ban-blocked-due-to-obamacare-era-amendment.html#:~:text=The%20ban%20prohibits%20abortion%20in,prison%20and%20a%20%2420%2C000%20fine.
    • 13
      Mead Gruver, “Wyoming Abortion Clinic Opens Despite Arson, Legal Obstacles,” AP News, publised April 20, 2023, https://apnews.com/article/wyoming-abortion-clinic-arson-opens-f149c165fdaa0956fecdbff75488f7cb.