The saga of Roe vs. herself

JOSEPH N. BELL

A story appeared recently in the back pages of the Los Angeles Times

that you probably missed. A small story -- only about six inches --

that opened a tiny window to the human side of a piece of history

that has involved this nation in controversy for more than 30 years.

The story wasn’t even deemed worthy of staff coverage, just an

Associated Press note that the Supreme Court of the United States had

declined to hear a challenge to its landmark ruling in 1973, in favor

of one Jane Roe, that affirmed a woman’s constitutional right to

abortion in this country. It wasn’t the first time a challenge to Roe

vs. Wade had been turned away. What was very special about this

rejection was the identity of the plaintiff. This time, Jane Roe was

suing to overturn her own victory in Roe vs. Wade.

I have a long history with Jane Roe that I’ve written about here

before. I was sent to Dallas by a national magazine to do an article

on the two, young, women, attorneys who argued Roe vs. Wade and ended

up focusing on Jane Roe, herself, with the understanding that I

wouldn’t reveal her identity. Until she surfaced 10 years later, I

was the only reporter who knew who she was.

She lived in Orange County during part of that period, and I

connected with her here and through letters when she returned to

Dallas. She had a series of lesbian relationships, returning always

to a Dallas contractor named Connie Gonzalez. That’s where she was

when the same magazine sent me back to do a 20th anniversary piece on

how the overwhelming attention she got after she surfaced as Norma

McCorvey had impacted her life.

Throughout those years, Norma worked for several abortion clinics

and carried the abortion-rights message wherever and however she

could.

She told me in our last anniversary interview: “We have a lot of

educating to do. Two generations of women have grown up with

legalized abortions, and they take it for granted. They have no real

understanding that this right can be taken away from them.

“I’m not vulnerable any more. Nobody can learn anything new about

me. I’m a lesbian. And I’m pro-choice. I don’t want to ever hear of

another woman having an illegal abortion. That’s why I’ve dedicated

my life to making that basic right for women safe and legal.”

Two years after she planted her flag so firmly in this place,

Norma announced that she had just seen the light and would henceforth

serve “the gospel of Jesus Christ” as it is interpreted by an

organization called Operation Rescue that has long used aggressive

civil disobedience in pushing its anti-abortion program.

Why this sudden, drastic change of heart that culminated, finally,

in Norma McCorvey suing her own government to repeal the victory won

in her name?

First of all, it wasn’t sudden. Along with her steadfast

commitment to Roe vs. Wade, Norma was also full of anger in our last

conversations. Not anger at personal attacks from groups like

Operation Rescue working to repeal Roe vs. Wade but rather at the

feminist organizations that were supporting Norma’s cause and -- she

felt strongly -- using her as a symbol of the abortion-rights

movement without showing her either respect or affection. We all need

both of these qualities in our lives, but Norma -- because of a

terrible early life described in two ghost-written books and a TV

movie -- needs them a little bit more. The abortion-rights honchos

(Norma specifically excepts Los Angeles attorney Gloria Allred) never

appeared to understand that. The Operation Rescue people do.

Norma is full of examples. Her attorneys, she said, ignored her

during her pregnancy that led to Roe vs. Wade. Once she surfaced, her

abortion-rights friends tended to regard her as a loose cannon and

used her almost entirely as a showpiece, describing her, as one

National Assn. of Women officer did as “just some anonymous person.”

Said Norma, angrily, recalling that comment: “Who in hell do they

think dug the first hole if it wasn’t me?”

So, she has now gone over to the other side, apparently without

any of her early reservations. She has, in effect, filed a lawsuit

against herself -- and that’s too much even for a conservative

Supreme Court.

Norma says that her new friends accept her for who she is. That

means accepting what I recall as an ill-educated ex-alcoholic, with a

hair-trigger temper who is refreshingly honest, terribly insecure,

temperamentally volatile, an incessant smoker, and who talks like a

Marine drill sergeant -- and needs desperately to be loved.

I wish I could believe that this current transformation is real,

not because I subscribe to the activities of her new pals, but

because I don’t want to see her used by another group until she is no

longer an asset to them.

I didn’t find it comforting to learn that when she was baptized by

the evangelical minister who heads up Operation Rescue, it was done

not in the quiet solemnity of a church but in a Dallas residential

swimming pool where it could be filmed for national television.

It’s been a long journey to this place for Norma McCorvey. She was

almost pushed over the edge into self-destruction, but she survived.

And she will again.

Her kind of honesty is difficult for some people to deal with, but

I always found it refreshing. Now, I hope she can find a way to make

peace with the convictions she once held as firmly as those she’s

holding now.

* JOSEPH N. BELL is a resident of Santa Ana Heights. His column

appears Thursdays.