Indiana abortion law won't help the disabled: Column David M. Perry I was
driving across Wisconsin, headed for an'Easter weekend in Minnesota, when I
heard
that Indiana Gov. Mike Pence had signed a bill 'imposing' a wide swath of
restrictions on access to abortions. My son, a 9-year-old with Down syndrome,
was listening to Bon Jovi on his iPad, mostly quietly enjoying the music in his
headphones. Every so often, though, he'd call out'Mommy! Daddy! Then he'd
pump his fist and shout, 'Rock and roll! The new law , HB 1337, 'prohibits a
person from performing an abortion if the person knows that the pregnant woman
is seeking the abortion solely because of: (1) the race, color, national
origin, ancestry, or sex of the fetus; or (2) a diagnosis or potential diagnosis
of the fetus having Down syndrome or any other disability. Abortions after a
prenatal diagnosis of Down syndrome' are relatively common , while racial or
sex selective abortions are extremely rare in this country. All' the
restrictions are troubling , but it's the second clause that's being touted as
the
real focus of the law. North Dakota legislators passed a' similar bill in 2013,
and bills are pending in Ohio and Missouri. Down syndrome and abortion are
now the new fronts in the culture wars. As I watched my son dancing in the
rear-view mirror, I knew a few things for sure. HB 1337 and laws like it won't'
help
people who have Down syndrome. Moreover, they aren't really intended to do so.
The goal of this law is to silence women and doctors by criminalizing
conversations
about abortion. People with Down syndrome are just collateral damage, because
it's going to make the words “Down syndrome” even more scary. I first heard
those words applied to my son about five minutes after he was born. We'll never
really know if we would have continued with the pregnancy had we received
a prenatal diagnosis, though we suspect we would have based on our personal
history and values. Still, there's nothing that really prepares you to hear
the diagnosis, because disability remains so stigmatized in our society. I knew
nothing about Down syndrome, a degree of ignorance that now seems shocking
to me. I thought it might be a death sentence, or at least mean a life of
institutionalization or hospitalization for my son. As I held him over the next
hour, talked to wise experts, and began to learn about his needs, those fears
quickly faded. I had a baby to care for! Imagine, though, hearing those words
in the middle of pregnancy, with no tangible baby to hold and cherish. No
wonder so many women choose abortion. The only antidote to fear is to fight
social
stigma, make sure people with disabilities are fully supported and integrated
in society, help families, and provide expectant mothers with good information.
Tragically, this Indiana law works in precisely the opposite direction, making
those prenatal diagnostic moments harder. And what about people who get
false positives on the early screening, but who will quickly terminate rather
than risk discussing options for more precise testing with their doctors?
There's no real way to enforce this law. Indeed, the 2013 North Dakota' law
hasn't been enforced . A woman isn't required to tell a doctor why she wants
an abortion, so the best defense for everyone will be silence. But how can an
expectant mother find her way beyond the fear created by the words “Down
syndrome” when she can't even talk about it to her doctor? In all likelihood,
bills like HB 1337 will only intensify the frightened rush to end pregnancies
following prenatal diagnoses, rather than help. POLICING THE USA:'A' look at
race, justice, media Pence signed the bill without ceremony, but tweeted about
his goals. He wrote , 'I believe that a society can be judged by how it deals
with its most vulnerable ' the aged, the infirm, the disabled and the unborn.
If Pence truly believes that he's going to be judged by whether he's protected
people with Down syndrome, he needs to turn Indiana into a leader for disability
services (right now, it's not ). He needs to enact laws that help doctors tell
the truth about people with Down syndrome, rather than forcing silence.
I finished this essay after my son fell asleep, clutching a Captain America toy
(that he stole from his sister) and a stuffed Kung'Fu Panda. It turns out
that life with a child with Down syndrome, at least when families get the
resources they need, can be filled with beautiful, but fully ordinary, joy.
That's
a truth I wish I had known when my son was diagnosed and one I work hard to
share with others. We can change the calculus around prenatal diagnoses by
telling these stories not by silencing doctors, terrifying mothers, and
turning disability and abortion into political battlefields. David M. Perry,
a history professor at Dominican University , is writing a book
about'the'criminalization of disability in American society. He blogs at' How
Did We Get
Into This Mess? 'and tweets' @Lollardfish . In addition to its own editorials,
USA TODAY publishes diverse opinions from outside writers, including our'
Board of Contributors . To read more columns like this, go to the' Opinion
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