Some friends are learning that they don’t see eye to eye on this issue. Can they make it work?
The exchange lasted for hours, she said, as the pair traded messages and news articles on Facebook in the days after the verdict. Dockett, a stay-at-home mom in Lansing, Mich., wanted her friend to understand that she believes life begins at conception and should be protected. Meanwhile, her friend, who declined to be interviewed for this story, argued that the abortion ban violates women’s right to health care and bodily autonomy.
“I suspect this will be the end of our friendship,” Dockett has written in a Twitter thread summarizing the conversation. “Heartbroken BUT it took me forever to find my voice and I will not be silenced even if it means losing every friend I have/had.”
Dockett’s story echoes a similar call on social media as post-deer the era continues to take shape. with With “incitement bans” now in place in 13 states and organizers mobilizing on both sides of the abortion debate, friends are inevitably entering the conversation — and some are learning they don’t see eye to eye on the issue.
“The fact that abortion is so much in the news now makes people think about it,” said Julie Chor, associate professor of obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Chicago. “So I think more of these discussions are happening in the public setting.”
Like Dockett, many people are reporting how those conversations went. For some, it has deepened their bond as they confide in each other about their experiences. For others, it’s creating new rifts as they wonder if their friendship has what it takes to withstand their opposing views.
For example, one Twitter user recently pondered how to break up with a friend of more than 20 years. “He’s pro-life, I’m pro-choice, and since Roe v. Wade I haven’t even been able to talk to them,” they has written. “I just want to puke.”
It didn’t come to that for Dockett and her friend, she said. A day or two after their exchange, they returned to their usual banter. “She kind of moved on, and it was much easier conversation,” Dockett said. “We’re not going to keep talking about it because we both said what we had to say.”
“I doubt this will be the end of our friendship.”
—Miranda Dockett
Last year, the Center for the Study of American Life, a project of the think tank American Enterprise Institute, found that 45 percent of Americans discuss politics with their friends at least a few times a month. And although political disagreements are common, the study found that 15 percent of people said they ended a friendship because of politics.
“While friendships can strain under these differences, friendships can also really drive change,” said Marisa G. Franco, a psychologist, author, and friendship expert. “And that’s because we care about people. We see how it is affecting them. We humanize the issue.”
Others on Twitter shared similar sentiments. “Personally I’m not a fan of abortion,” one person posted on Twitter, “but if my best friend needs me to hold her hand when she gets one. I’ll be there to hold it.”
In states that have passed abortion bans, the American Psychological Association notes that some people may feel more compelled to disclose an unplanned pregnancy to loved ones in order to seek help in securing access to an abortion. But such legislation could also hinder these discussions.
“People who are now at this crossroads and don’t know where to turn in terms of care, are feeling very scared about who they can talk to,” said reproductive psychologist Julie Bindeman, citing the Texas ban, which empowers private citizens. . to file lawsuits against providers or anyone who “aids or induces” an abortion. “So it doesn’t create spaces where talking to people about abortion care or health care choices feels safe.”
For a long time, Rachel Stevens had hoped her best friend would reconsider her anti-abortion stance. Eight years ago, when Stevens asked to terminate the pregnancy, her friend said she would never speak to her again.
“He’s pro-life, I’m pro-choice, and since Roe v. Wade I haven’t even been able to talk to them.”
– Twitter user
That threat didn’t last, said Stevens, now 35. But something changed in their friendship forever after the Supreme Court decision.
“Me deer rolling over, I tried to talk to her about it because she has three little girls and it’s definitely going to affect their future,” said Stevens, a server in Nashville. “And I think it’s something that she should be concerned and aware.”
But her attempts to talk about the issue fell on deaf ears, she said: Her friend showed little interest in engaging in conversation. “She really sealed the deal to get out of that friendship once and for all,” Stevens said.
When it comes to charged topics like abortion, it’s not just opposing views that can drive a wedge between friendships.
Lately, Mela Horr, a college student based in Houston, has felt particularly isolated from her group of friends. Late one night in June, they aired those sentiments in a short thread on Twitter. “It’s that time of year again where I realize my friends will never be able to understand my gender identity,” the tweet began.
As a non-binary person, Horr, 23, said it has been challenging to talk to their friends, a group of mostly cisgender heterosexual men, about abortion and how the new restrictions could disproportionately affect the transgender community.
“At the end of the day, because it doesn’t affect them directly, it’s not something they’ll ever fully understand the full ramifications of,” they said.
For Horr, like many others, the coronavirus pandemic uprooted their social life. Classes went online, and the communities they had previously found solace in—a group of local Filipino artists and a queer organization on campus—left.
“I felt very rooted in where I was,” Horr said of their pre-Covid life. “And I was still trying to figure out who I was, but at least I felt like the people I was around reflected parts of me.”
Renée Mannino, 23, found that support years ago at the Pride Parade in New York City, where she struck up a friendship with Emma Beckerman when the pair were still in high school. They traveled to the city with a group of mutual friends, Mannino said, “and we clicked so well that we had a sleepover that same night.”
“It’s that time of year again where I realize my friends will never be able to understand my gender identity.”
– Mela Horr
Years later, after Mannino had an abortion, Beckerman was one of the first people to tell her. “It was really nice because she didn’t have, like, any reaction,” said Mannino, who works as a nanny in Flemington, N.J. “She was very comforting when I told her … it was just a regular conversation.”
Among the abortion stories that have flooded social media in recent months, Mannino said she’s noticing a dominant narrative: decisions to terminate a pregnancy because of health risks, traumatic experiences or to escape a toxic or abusive relationship.
But Mannino has seen fewer stories reflecting her reason for having an abortion three years ago: “I don’t want to have children,” she said. “I don’t want to carry a child.”
Then, after deer tipped over, Beckerman reached out with the reassurance Manino needed. Not wanting to become a mother is reason enough to have an abortion, Beckerman sent her a message: “You don’t need to go through [something] traumatic to deserve the right to choose.”
“You’re such a good friend,” Mannino texted back.
Beckerman, 22, said he wondered how Mannino might feel afterward deer.
“I bet I know more women [who have had an abortion], but Renée is the only person who has opened up to me about that experience,” she said. “It seemed like something that was appropriate to say and that I wish someone would say to me.”
Few studies examine the private conversations people have about abortion decisions with their loved ones. But a small study published in 2019 offers some insight.
“What we found was that most people talked to a friend, a family member or a partner,” said Chor, a University of Chicago professor and one of the study’s authors. “And most people described having some positive experiences in those discussions.”
Experts echo the importance of such conversations — and have some advice on how to navigate them.
“It’s not a space to insert your opinion,” said Bindeman, the reproductive psychologist. “It’s not a space for your values to come to the fore, even if your values are supporting what your friend did.”
Focus the conversation on the storyteller — not the listener, she added.
For Dockett, talking about her views with her friend made one thing clear: “[We] both value our friendship and love for each other more than our political or moral values.”
It’s a realization she thinks others can discover through these conversations.
“It is absolutely possible to have differences in different areas of your life and maintain a friendship,” she said. “It really comes down to your love for the person, their love for you, and the ability to accept that you don’t need to think alike to truly love and care for each other.”
