On Friday evening, June 24, I arrived at the Cherry Lane Theater in Manhattan after having already traveled between outrage, exhaustion and despair. Roe v. Wade was destroyed that morning and I was about to stage my comedy show “Oh God, a Show About Abortion.” I had staged the show after the draft Supreme Court ruling in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization was leaked, and the mood in the theater was gloomy; a sharper joke, one that normally provokes unwilling bursts of laughter, provoked moans.
This day felt even tougher, and as I turned the corner onto Commerce Street, I wondered if the crowd would be laughing. And frankly, I wondered if I would be.
I started writing and teaching this show over three years ago. I had recently had an abortion and in the process of processing my experience I started writing jokes. Some things about the experience were honestly just funny. Like the fact that I peed in a crystal whiskey glass in a hotel bathroom to take a pregnancy test. And the fact that every woman in the waiting room at Planned Parenthood wore athleisure, like we were going to a SoulCycle class.
When I started putting on the show in a small theater in Queens and in bars around town, there were a lot of bombs and awkward silences. Just saying the word “abortion” can make a room quiet. I saw arms crossed and frowns as I dipped my toe in my abortion material.
I know the attention that “Oh God, a show about abortion” has gotten isn’t because I wrote a perfect comedy show. It’s partly because we’re going through a tumultuous and painful – and hopefully brief – moment when the right to abortion has been snatched away. It’s also because a lot of people seem to relate to my story. I talk on the show about how I feel bad because I don’t feel bad about my abortion. I’m talking about how hard it is to be a woman who doesn’t want kids in a culture that doesn’t make room for us outside of a few depressing stereotypes. I talk about how surprisingly simple my abortion experience was, despite the fact that every corner of our society told me it would be an overwhelming tragedy. I get messages all the time from onlookers telling me they were delighted or relieved to see something they felt or experienced reflected back to them accurately, without apology.
I understand that not everyone wants to approach abortion with jokes. I understand it was too soon to laugh in the wake of Roe being overthrown, and I understand people whose experiences were traumatic. But for those who are ready, I think having a healthy sense of humor — a sense of personal vulnerability — is an extremely valuable coping mechanism in these dark days of American culture.
Although my abortion experience was easy and privileged, and I joke about it for a living, the realities of my life without that simple procedure are not funny to me. I would raise a child alone. I couldn’t live in my Brooklyn apartment. I couldn’t afford the kind of childcare that would allow me to continue my professional life.
I hope the show helps destigmatize a procedure that shouldn’t have stigma. The show has also helped me on a personal level. I had to laugh at my abortion experience because the alternative—as my life could have gone without the abortion—is so disturbing.
It’s also funny that there was a maternity wear store across the street from a Planned Parenthood.
Abortion stories don’t have to be trauma Olympics. We don’t have to focus only on the most shocking, violent, dramatic cases of abortion to show its value. We must recognize those cases and fight for them. We must also recognize and fight for the right that has just been taken from millions of Americans: the right to decide whether we want to be pregnant based solely on our own needs.
I wrote the show to help people understand and laugh about abortion. Perhaps now it can be something more, help reframe discussions about abortion and encourage others with stories like mine to feel comforted in their decisions. I also hope it can open the door for other people to share their stories. Above all, I hope the show can be a small piece in the larger mosaic of abortion stories – one that hopefully can play a role in reclaiming and protecting the right to abortion for all who need it.
On that Friday, after Roe fell over, I stepped onstage and the energy wasn’t gloomy at all. I was greeted by a room full of people ready to laugh. In a world still so often defined by remote work and food delivery, that night instilled a sense of community for everyone there, including me.
I cried when the show ended, in part because of my grief and anger at the loss of civil liberties for so many people in this country, and the damage and death that will result. But I also cried with the happiness of being among people and feeling these things together.