On the one hand, I reject the prevailing pro-life stance—the one supporting exceptions for rape. So I’m not popular. Sorry, but I hold every unborn child to be equally precious, whether produced by rape or a loving relationship. No child has committed a crime, and all deserve protection.
But neither do I take the absolutist view, banning all abortions outright and forcing rape victims to bear children. Though this view would draw fiercely loyal friends, it would hold responsible another innocent victim—the woman—for choices she never made.
And politically, the absolutist strategy carries disastrous consequences, empowering the Democrat Party to kill even more. It’s true. Republican bureaucrats can be toothless allies, but they don’t compare to the bloodlust across the aisle. Not even close. While the best way to save lives is winning hearts and minds, we must also defeat Democrats at the ballot box. Failure to do so…well…escalates genocide.
Thus I have no allies. I can’t treat children as less precious based on circumstance, and I can’t in good conscience claim to support life with strategy that increases death. I’m alone.
Here then, is my position: In cases of rape producing pregnancy, I advocate for life, but I allow for exceptions—and I do all this to save more lives.
Confused? You won’t be.
The Rape Victim
“Relating” to a rape victim is impossible; even insulting. The terror she’s endured eclipses anything I can imagine, and her pregnancy means 9 months carrying and giving birth to someone whose DNA is half that of her rapist. What a daily reminder! Asking a rape victim to save this child means requesting a decision more noble—more heroic—than any I’ll ever know. So I must be a monster, right? Advocating for life, I appear callous, like I’m condemning a shell-shocked victim to purgatory.
But the truth is, I don’t condemn her at all. I’m trying to spare her…from regret. Real, terrible, lifelong regret. And this regret won’t come from pro-lifers like me pointing fingers, since I’ll do no such thing. It will come from within.
Look at a rape victim. We’ll call her “Anna.” Wanting to move on, Anna gets an abortion—and hopefully some good counseling. Things start to improve. But then, some of Anna’s friends get pregnant, and they begin passing around ultrasounds. Try though she might, Anna can’t stop some part of her mind from saying, “I had that growing inside me…and I ended it.”
Unable to face the pain, Anna justifies it to herself. “I never chose to be raped! There’s no way I was going through 9 months of pain to have his child! I wasn’t keeping his DNA inside me! No way!”
More ultrasounds are passed around. More evidence shows the unborn aren’t just “tissue,” but are growing, human lives. Videos emerge of Planned Parenthood peddling body parts. Nervously, Anna ignores it. Or cries at home, alone. Or lashes out, echoing feminist mantras. What she wants most is to tell someone, but she fears she’ll either be rejected or told how right she was—and she’s not up for either scenario.
Plagued by regret, Anna feels alone no matter how many friends are around. Hopefully, she gets help—and she’ll hear no blame from me—but even a justified act can bring sorrow.
There’s a better path, you know.
Advocating For Life
Suppose Anna decides to have the child. Every day, her growing belly serves as a reminder of rape—there’s no avoiding that. But with friends and support, Anna perseveres. Having the child, Anna commits an act of heroism I could never equal. But the best part comes next.
Whether keeping the baby or offering it for adoption, Anna sees children every day. As they grow, shaped by their surroundings, Anna realizes something: DNA does not equal character. DNA does not equal destiny. And most of all, DNA does not equal blame. The evil of Anna’s attacker was never his DNA, but rather his choice—and her child is now guided by new choices. That child isn’t Anna’s attacker at all. It’s a precious, innocent life—a life she saved. Rather than struggle with regret, Anna rejoices, knowing she committed a deed of supreme goodness—giving life when she had every reason to flee it.
Wow. There’s a smile that never fades. There’s a smile that helps Anna really move on.
Allowing For Exceptions
Okay, imagine Anna hasn’t yet made the decision. She’s been raped and is pregnant. Horrified and vulnerable, she’s being told abortion is her only chance at recovery—at happiness. And here I am, wanting to save both victims—Anna from terrible regret, and her child from death.
What do I do?
Banning options and forcing childbearing on Anna will produce defiance, chasing her into the waiting arms of Democrat butchers. Now I’ve created an activist. Now I’ve helped her suppress regrets even further, while pledging loyalty to the Left. If I keep this up, I’ll produce so many Anna’s, the Party of Death will dominate everywhere, at every level. Bad strategy carries a heavy, lasting price.
On the other hand, dodging the issue (a favored tactic for some) leaves Anna desperate, thinking there’s no good choice except the escape hatch of abortion. So my silence is no option, either.
This returns me to my original position: I advocate for life, but allow for exceptions. Here’s what I say:
“Anna, you didn’t choose this. It was forced on you, and I’d never force your decision. What matters to me is your happiness now, a year from now—the rest of your life. So please, don’t let your attacker control your decision, either. Imagine yourself years from now, looking back; and whatever you choose, be the woman now who makes Anna proud then. Abortion, adoption, maybe raising a child—whatever you choose, what’s growing in you is not your attacker, and you’re no longer a victim. You’re in control—and that’s as it should be. The rest of us are just here to help.”
Yes, I could also tell Anna about regrets, science, life, the innocence of the unborn—but she can’t hear those things if I force them. Don’t forget, Anna just experienced force and control in the worst way, so I must start by setting force and control aside. Now Anna’s safe. Her needs are put first, and this produces the best chance for saving both her and the child. Just as important, I prevent the Democrat Party from capitalizing on my missteps, preying on Anna’s misery and escalating its death machine. It’s hard, but if I abandon strategy, lives will more likely be lost.
Politically, I still advocate for life, but allow for exceptions. Why are both important? Because for starters, nearly every woman could be a rape victim, and saying I’ll ban victims’ options only closes their ears to solutions. It's like telling a man on a ledge who's ready to jump, "You're not allowed to jump." Yikes. Might as well help push. Likewise, failing to proclaim the unborn’s innocence and value in every situation sends a false message—leaving abortion looking like a victimless solution to a heinous crime.
Well, abortion in cases of rape is not victimless. In fact, there are two victims. But I can’t stop it with force. No one can. For the sake of both mother and child, I must be smart.
No Man’s Land
So that’s my position, and it leaves me with no allies. Oh well. There are no easy answers here. There is only pain, caused by a monster whose removal from the food chain would suit me just fine. He’s the villain, not the scared mom. He’s the villain, not the unborn child.
And for Republicans everywhere, I am the villain—for holding a stance no one likes. Fair enough. At some point, we must stop chasing the idol of being liked, and start trying to save lives—effectively. You see, it’s not enough to care. It’s not enough to have principles. For me, those principles must be advanced strategically, in hopes of doing some good, somewhere, somehow, for someone.
Standing here in no man’s land, I’ll never please either wing of my divided party. They’re too immersed in finger-pointing; too angry to listen. I only want to help Anna, along with the precious life within her. I want to disarm the Party of Death across the aisle—that group which stalks victims for profit and political gain. I guess in the end, I want to make a real difference, more than I want to make friends.
And if ever I see Anna smiling while watching children play, I’ll know it was worth it. She matters. The child matters. At that moment, even I will matter.
And just like Anna, I’ll have a smile that never fades.