Stigma Around Abortion Is Very Real in Our Society and in My Latinx Culture

This article is part of POPSUGAR’s 50 States, 50 Abortions, a large-scale storytelling project that aims to elevate the voices of people who’ve had abortions. For more information about how to find an abortion clinic near you, please visit The Cut’s abortion service finder.

I was 19 and attending college in Oregon. I missed my period and wanted to give it some time. I thought that stress from my classes and adjusting to being nearly 3,000 miles away from home might have impacted me and made my period late. But as the days went by, I felt like something was off, so I talked to my boyfriend at the time, who is actually my husband now. I told him, “I think I want to take a test.” All three tests I took were positive. I knew immediately in that moment that in no way, shape, or form was I ready to become a parent.

My dad is from Nicaragua, and my mom is Puerto Rican. Both worked really hard for me to have the opportunities I have now. I understood their sacrifices and also knew what I wanted for myself, which was to finish college. So I knew that I was going to have an abortion. Immediately after taking those pregnancy tests, I googled the nearest Planned Parenthood and scheduled an appointment.

I was overwhelmed and scared. I think that the opposition does a really good job at making us feel ashamed, and we know that stigma around abortion is very real in our society. It’s also very heavy in my Latinx culture, so not being able to tell my parents right away or my friends or family was really isolating. I think that this is why I’m so outspoken about my abortion story now, because it’s very common and we need to talk about it as much as we can.

I recently had a baby. I always knew I wanted to become a mom. However, my husband and I took years to finally make the decision to start a family. I was and am very aware about the reality that it is safer to have an abortion than to have a child.

On the day of my abortion, I walked by protesters as I entered the building. Despite feeling nervous, I was very firm and confident in my decision. Every person from the front desk to the nurse to the doctor was incredible, and it’s honestly the best care I’ve ever received.

In the state of Oregon, there wasn’t a waiting period like there is in Pennsylvania, my home state and where I live now. The biggest barrier I faced was cost. I was on Medicaid through Pennsylvania, but I couldn’t use it, not only out of concern that my parents would find out, but also because Medicaid doesn’t cover abortion in Pennsylvania — only in cases of rape or incest. Ultimately, my boyfriend and I put our funds together and were able to pay for it in cash. It was somewhere around $500, which was really expensive for us at the time.

I didn’t know what to expect. I grew up Catholic in a very conservative Latinx household, so I didn’t know much about abortion. I thought: how does this work? The medical staff assured me that it was a very safe, fast procedure, and it was. I was in and out of there pretty quickly.

Ultimately, I felt relief, but I was still uneasy about the fact that I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I’m very close to my parents and to my friends and family, and I wasn’t comfortable telling them what happened. I had my boyfriend (now husband), so I had my best friend in my corner. But there was this heavy stigma associated with abortions, which are essentially healthcare. That was really tough for me, and the discomfort dragged on for years. I believed that if I ever shared this, my parents and family would be crushed.

I wanted a sense of community, so soon after my abortion I ended up interning at Planned Parenthood. After my in-clinic experience, I wanted to spend the rest of my life making sure people had the options I did. And that’s exactly what I’m doing now as the executive director at Planned Parenthood Pennsylvania Advocates.

Later, after I moved back home to Philly and during Trump’s election campaign, I shared my story publicly for the first time. That’s how my parents learned about my abortion. It was at an event put on by the Planned Parenthood Southeastern Pennsylvania affiliate, and it was my first time sharing my story in front of 500-plus people.

My parents learned through social media, and their response surprised me. “Wow, we’re so sorry,” they said. “You didn’t tell us. Why didn’t you tell us?” They were proud of me for sharing my experience. By then, we’d seen how the attacks on healthcare and the stigma associated with abortions impacted Black and Brown communities most. That helped my parents come around. Now they know exactly what I do for a living, and they’re very supportive.

I’m outraged about the overturning of Roe v. Wade. It’s going to impact Black and Brown, poor, and LGBTQ+ folks most — as well as those living in rural areas. In my opinion, it is white supremacy in action, because we know that people who have resources are going to be able to get on a plane to access healthcare.

This is the beginning of a long fight. When people don’t have the full range of sexual and reproductive healthcare, whether that’s prenatal care, family planning, or access to abortion, communities suffer.

I wish I would’ve shared my experience sooner because I know directly the powerful impact of storytelling. But that’s the only thing I would’ve done differently. It was not a good time in my life to have a child — and that’s not selfish. It was, for me, an act of self-love and appreciation, because I was putting my desire to finish college and go to grad school first. Now that I’m a mother, I understand what the role requires. My abortion 10 years ago absolutely made me a better mom.

— Signe Espinoza (she/her/ella) (Oregon), as told to Mirel Zaman

Image Sources For “Click For Stories From Each State”: Unsplash / Aaron Burden, Getty / Sergii Iaremenko/Science Photo Library, Unsplash / Manik Roy and Photo Illustration: Patricia O’Connor

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