On June 22, 2022, the United States Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, as expected. And the pro-choice crowd took to the streets.

A hobby I’ve practiced for decades is photography. So after moving to Chicago in 2019, it seemed natural to seek out photography groups on Meetup. For those who don’t know about Meetup, it is a website where you can search for groups in your area who have similar interests as you. Pretty much every interest you can imagine has a group, especially in a big city like Chicago: history, singles, paddleboarding, dancing, women lawyers, Korean authors, hiking, etc.

One of the photography groups I found was Chicago Streets and Beyond Photography. They had planned an outing to photograph the first protest of the court ruling on Roe v. Wade at the Federal Plaza in downtown Chicago. We met a couple of blocks away beforehand, and the organizer gave us some tips on how to take photos at protests before we headed over and quickly lost each other in the crowds.

I should add that as much as I love taking photos, I really hate taking candid photos of people. The whole thing makes me so uncomfortable. The voice in my head tells me that I don’t have the “authority” to be taking photos. No one has given me permission. Of course, intellectually, I know this is ridiculous. I need permission from no one. So I joined this group thinking it might help me overcome this paralyzing discomfort.

To be honest, I was nervous. In the beginning, the best I could do was slink around the crowd and weave in and out of protesters chanting, shouting, and waving signs. Every now and then I would lift my camera, but I would quickly put it back down before releasing the shutter. And when I was willing to take a photo, it was usually only after I made sure that no one saw me do it. Needless to say, that strategy doesn’t lead to impactful photographs.

Eventually, I came to understand that all of the people attending actually wanted their pictures to be taken and were posing for cameras in all directions. That thought loosened me up a bit, and I snapped a few. As time passed, I took more and more photos, but I remained hesitant and missed more shots than I took. 

I also might as well state my position on the abortion issue before continuing. I had always been in favor of “safe, legal, and rare.” However, I never felt strongly enough about the issue to speak out about it. I did feel strongly that Roe v. Wade needed to go. The Supreme Court does not have the power afforded it in the Constitution to make laws – that job belongs to Congress. And if Congress wasn’t going to tackle this issue, then it belongs to the states. So when Roe v. Wade was overturned, I had no problem with that. I hoped states for the most part would continue the “safe, legal, and rare” (with an emphasis on the rare) tradition.

As I wandered my first abortion protest, a pattern did eventually reveal itself to me. But it was too late for me to adequately capture it in my photos. It was the number of very young children at the protest. A three-year-old boy in a stroller holding a sign reading, “Trust Women.” A baby with a sign dangling from the front of her stroller stating, “Babies for reproductive rights.” A bold 7- or 8-year-old girl standing defiantly with a sign above her head reading, “My body, my choice.” A dad cradling in his arms his 4- or 5-year-old little girl who holds a sign that she made herself of age-appropriate scribbles. Her older sister next to them with her own handmade sign of a stick figure and the statement, “Girls matter.” A little girl, maybe 8, sits in her mother’s lap holding a sign that says, “You f*cked with the wrong generation.” 

One young boy, I would guess 6- or 7-years-old, attended with his mom. He held a cardboard sign that the child clearly made. It was indecipherable. But she was obviously proud of him and of the sign. She circled the crowd, posing her son for anyone willing to take a photo. He was clearly uncomfortable and shied away from every camera, refused to hold up the sign, grasped her leg and struggled to hide behind her. But she pushed him forward and arranged the sign in his hands every time. I didn’t even try to take a photo of him. It made me too depressed.

A man, woman, and their young daughter passed me by. The little girl asked her mom, “So why are we here?” I stopped and turned to follow them. She looked like a kindergartener. I was so curious to hear what this mother planned on telling her daughter. “Well,” Mom began, “we’re here because people want to make it so girls like you…” I got cut off and lost the family. But what did she say? What could she say?

I think about my own daughter when she was five years old. I think about her beautiful little happy face. Her innocence. Her joy in play and in life was infectious. I cannot even imagine looking into her eyes and telling her that some women get pregnant and don’t want the babies, so we really really want them to be able to stop the pregnancy (kill the baby?) so the baby is never born. Because they don’t want the baby. How could you tell a little child that?? What would that child internalize from that information? I don’t think a five-year-old little girl would hear that and conclude, “This is great! Because someday when I’m a grown up, I might get pregnant and not want my baby!”  And then to be surrounded by people screaming about how important it is to get rid of their babies. Surrounded by people who are furious that they might have to have their own baby.

Even though the women at the protest are saying that this is about their rights, I can’t help but look at the little children around me and think that this is actually a protest against them. (sigh).

When I got home and uploaded the photos to my computer, I was disappointed to see that many of the photos were out of focus (I brought a manual focus camera – probably not the best choice at something so volatile as a protest!). And many of the rest were snapped just before or after the key shot. Or sometimes, the main point of the shot was half out of the frame. In other words, I didn’t know what I was doing. And my hesitancy just exasperated my inexperience. 

But not to worry. The abortion crowd wasn’t finished with the protests. Over the next weeks, both the pro-life side and the pro-choice side scheduled multiple protests. And it didn’t take long for counter protestors to begin showing up each time, which meant a lot more contentious interactions. That didn’t stop me. I wanted to get better at this.

At the next protest, I now knew the lay of the land. I understood what would happen as people first gathered, and how the speakers would unfold. I knew there would be a march throughout the city following the speakers. And I had a pretty good idea of the route. Police would be at the front, leading the march. Cops on bikes would block off cross streets as the protestors approached. People on the sidewalks would pull out their cellphones and record. Bystanders would gawk or cheer. 

This second protest included a handful of pro-life counter-protestors, who were absent at the first. They stood across the street from the gathering and prayed through a megaphone. They followed the march through the Loop but remained on the sidewalk while the pro-choice crowd flooded the streets. In an effort to get into the mix but fighting my nervousness of being in the mix, I found myself also on the sidewalk, often passing and being passed by the pro-life group, who continued to pray through their megaphone.

Suddenly, I got trapped between the two groups as people in the street rushed over to the young woman currently holding the megaphone. They got right up in her face, surrounding her and screaming at her. Screaming the most hateful, vile things at her. The ugliness was unbelievable. I snapped a bunch of pictures, none of which came out, not surprising. I was shaking and shocked throughout the episode.

“Fuck you, you hateful bitch.”

“It’s ok. I love you.”

“Burn in hell, fucker.”

“We love babies.”

Yep. Just like that. But with threatening fists, fingers in her face, and aggressive posturing.

They finally moved on. And I felt compelled to say something to the young woman.

“I just want to say that you were really brave just now.” She was. She never stepped back. She took what they hurled at her without getting ugly or aggressive.

And she broke down in tears. Then she apologized and said, “That was really scary.” It was.

She asked if I was supporting them. I said no. I was just here to take photos. (But witnessing these protests, I could feel my position on the issue shifting.) She then told me that she was 26 years old and explained that she had had an abortion a few years ago. She had regretted it ever since, and she just wanted to stop others from making the same mistake. I gave her a hug and went on my way.

At the next protest, a few more pro-life people showed up to counter-protest. They stood outside the fenced area where the pro-choice protest was taking place. But that didn’t stop people from going over to yell at them. At one point, I was outside the fence trying to get a shot of the crowd when a group came over to tell the pro-life people a thing or two. The one person that sticks out in my head was a middle-aged man who screamed at a young man. Veins popped out of his forehead, his face contorted with hatred, his throat muscles strained to their limits. The pro-life man refused to engage in kind. He just stood there and took everything this man had to throw at him. Which of course, enraged him even more. 

“You’re a piece of shit. Fuck you. Chicken-shit. Say something asshole. You can’t even defend yourself. Coward. Loser. Fuck you. Fuck you!” 

Then he taunted other pro-life defenders nearby, demanding that they speak up and when they didn’t, calling them horrific names. The only way to describe it is to say that this man had completely lost control. He was acting as if possessed.

Right next to him was a boy (his son?), perhaps ten years old. He remained by his father’s side throughout the episode and used both hands to flip off the pro-life group. 

When the man grew tired, he beckoned the boy, and they marched off. That interchange upset me more than I could have guessed. I left not long after that. And I fantasized about running into that man and his son. I wanted to ask him about what I saw and who I saw him turn into. What was that about? Did he think he was going to change hearts and minds? Where did the rage come from? Was he only filled with hate? Or was there room for any love in there? And where had that gone?

Which brings up another observation: the number of young men out on the streets shouting for abortion. These are men whose mothers are likely menopausal, men who aren’t old enough to have sexually-active daughters, but who are certainly at the peak of their sexual lives. I can’t help but wonder whether their number one concern is for the women in their lives or if it is for themselves. Yes, that is cynical, and perhaps I’m wrong. But they are fighting for the elimination of their own children, siblings, nieces and nephews. And some are there fighting for the elimination of their own grandchildren. It’s hard to imagine.

By the same token, it also disturbed me to see dads holding the hands of toddlers or walking around with their little girls up on their shoulders while waving signs such as, “Someone I love had an abortion” or “Fuck the Patriarchy” (yes, men carry such signs) or “I wouldn’t fuck with my wife if I were you.” While holding their little girls.

Finally, the pro-life movement held their own protest. They had a great turnout, but the counter-protest across the street was nearly the same size. Police lined the curb to keep the two sides separated, which was successful for the most part – but not always.

The contrast between the two groups was put into clear focus. And depending on where you fall on this issue, this might be offensive. The pro-life gathering was literally a celebration. They were celebrating life, having fun. On the other hand, the energy of the pro-choice group couldn’t have been more different – they were filled with anger and hatred and bitterness. 

Chants yelled from one side of the street to another looked like this:

Side One: “Racist sexist anti gay, Born-again bigots go away!”

Side Two: “Hey hey. Ho ho. Abortion has got to go.”

Side One: “Right-to-Life your name’s a lie. You don’t care if women die!”

Side Two: “We love babies, yes we do. we love babies, how about you?”

Over time, I got better and better at the photos, and I got more and more comfortable with taking photos. In fact, after a couple of protests, I now understood the layout of the land – the initial gathering, the potential counter-protesters, the speakers, the spots to get the best photos, the place to be during the march around the city.

It didn’t take long before I didn’t even recognize myself. I found myself running towards the commotion. I haven’t quite mastered taking photos of the commotion, however. My adrenaline usually guarantees out of focus and out of frame action. But I’m working on it!

Now I am always in the front of the march alongside the press and the tv cameras, running backwards, snapping photos, dodging police, climbing planters to get better views, and weaving in and out of protesters as they march down State Street or Michigan Avenue.

One thing that gave me the confidence that I had every right to lead the march is the fact that one of my two cameras has a large, professional lens. You’ve probably seen a similar one. Instead of black, the lens is gray. So people often mistake me for a professional photographer, even without credentials. And I am ok with that!

I also have to admit. My opinion on abortion has shifted, thanks to what I have witnessed of the activists who are on the front lines. No one is arguing for “safe, legal, and rare” anymore. Women actually carry signs proclaiming pride at the number of abortions they’ve had. I have found the entire movement to be repulsive. And strangely, trans activists seem to have taken over a huge part of the pro-choice protests. LGBTQ+ flags are prominent. Often one or more of the speakers are trans women demanding abortion rights. Signs proclaim, “He’s and They’s get abortions too,” “Trans rights are human rights,” “The right to choose is a queer issue,” and “Lesbians for abortion.”

But now I am addicted. Since then, I have photographed rallies about Russia, Ukraine, Biden, fur, fossil fuels, climate change, Iran, rape, to name but a few. And most recently, the multiple pro-Palistianian protests.

More about that in a future post… In the meantime, I previously wrote about traveling to Washington DC to photograph Rage Against the War machine. You can read about that HERE.