Topics | Abortion | The Sun Magazine #3


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Might Have Been

“Mom, did you ever have an abortion?” Annabel helped herself to more lasagna, meticulously skirting the carrots that Kit had sneaked into the filling. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

By Nancy Weber October 1993
Readers Write


A classmate remembered, a card playing grandmother, a Hurricane Andrew survivor

By Our Readers September 1993
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

When The Bough Breaks

When we finally reach the street, it’s like moving into the current of a mighty river. We pass the White House, the Treasury, the Justice Department, all the cornerstones of empire that remind us this is Washington, where decisions are made that affect everyone, the way one careless moment, one broken promise — one broken condom — can affect your whole life.

By Sy Safransky May 1992
Readers Write


Secret codes, an underground network of doctors, complications

By Our Readers September 1991
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Necessity To Speak

I see them every day, the wounded women in the supermarket or in the bookstore, the children beaten to a whimper until all life has grayed in them. I’ve learned to recognize Fear’s signature scrawled across their faces, the way one learns to recognize a man who walks with a “prison shuffle.”

By Sam Hamill February 1991

Journey To Juarez

Mary Ann does not see the doctor until she’s on the operating table, knees bent, her feet strapped into stirrups. . . . The doctor does not speak to her, never glances at her face. A girl, twelve or thirteen years old, stands to one side, squeezing Mary Ann’s hand. The girl’s hands are small and quite strong. Mary Ann squeezes back.

By Janina Lynne July 1990

Leaving Home

Opening my legs for her wasn’t easy. / She was hunched and burnt-looking. / Her whole face puckered toward her mouth. / She spoke with words like “dirty shame” / while she gave her absolution — / a small, white cloth inserted / into my womb.

By Cedar Koons June 1988
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

What It’s Like

It’s like being in Miss Wheeler’s class but wanting to play with the kids in Miss King’s class. The thing is, they go to recess at 10:30 with the fifth graders, while your class goes at 11 with the kindergarteners.

By Dana Branscum January 1988
Readers Write

Best Friends

An abortion, graduate school, sisters

By Our Readers December 1980
Readers Write


Abortion, cancer, depression

By Our Readers January 1978