Look how it happened with them: once they got going, they took in little bunches of new women a couple times a year – and those women joined up with whatever it was then; they didn’t need to be in from the start, they accepted how the group was then – whenever – or they didn’t join.

Yeah! And didn’t the first Jane start – that one who took the calls in her dorm room – didn’t she start a group when she realized she couldn’t handle the work all by herself? Didn’t she start by asking for volunteers at a meeting? We could do that. We could do that at the meeting of the Coalition in June, when the med students and nursing students come; I think some midwives are coming this time too.

Oh, I wish we knew them, even just one of them! One tough Jane’s all we need. I wish we knew where they are. Where are they – I’m gonna say it – when we need them?!

I bet there’s women all over this country thinking the same thing right now – I bet, like, those women are surrounded! There’s a line of women outside every Jane’s house!

Nah. I bet hardly anybody even knows who they are. Not everybody’s into this like we are. There isn’t a line. I mean, what if, even where the Janes are known, people are too scared? Or seriously traumatized by anti-abortion violence? What if we really are a tiny minority?

No way! Think about it! You were at that march in 2004! It was huge – biggest ever, bigger even than the one for Dr. King’s dream speech, more people than Vietnam. And now, all the marches against Trump! That old guy, the ranger in uniform we talked to, ’member, at the Lincoln Memorial? He saw all of ’em – and he said ours was totally the biggest. And it was still legal then.

But how many of those people’d be willing to break the law? Marching is one thing; but committing a crime, systematically and repeatedly – that’s something else. 

Women did it before – they’ll do it again.

What if the Janes are done with it, Joanie? Like that blonde in the video: “It was over for me” – she made me mad!

Wait, no – she said “once it was legal” she “passed the torch.” She didn’t know when they made the movie that torch’d be coming around again, real fast, real soon.

So: The Janes. They’re middle-aged, or even old, but they’re not dead – oh, maybe some are dead, but not all of ’em – there must be some we could find.

Yeah, why don’t you search for them online, see what you get?

You think that’s a joke, but I’m going to do it – here goes. Wait. Wait wait wait – yes! Hey! Look at all this! I’m scrolling past what we already know – ok, it’s not exactly an address book – but it’s a list of leads. 

We can start with some of the women in the video who used their own names – and this time we take notes. And the woman who wrote the book, Laura something – and the Chicago Women’s Union website probably has names – do you see any there? And one of the Janes in the old video is a writer – I bet we can find her. Somebody at the January meeting said she lives out here now, like, somewhere in Washington, or Oregon?

How about we find the women who made that video? They found a bunch of Janes. That was, like, twenty-five years ago? The videomakers found them – twenty years after Roe!

Uh-oh. I bet some of them really are dead. Almost all of them have to be pretty old. Even the youngest ones, like, let’s say somebody was eighteen in 1972, now she’s way over sixty – and the older ones – oh, jeez. And how can we be sure these women even think about this stuff anymore?

Girl, everybody thinks about this stuff – that’s why even if you’re running for the library board in East Nowhere Nebraska, you have to tell the voters what your position is on abortion. D’you think these women, who fucking did it, underground, have never given it a thought since then, especially now – when it’s illegal again? You think they aren’t wondering about doing something? You bet they’re thinking about it – they’ve been thinking about it, and now it’s time, for them just like for us. Some of them, anyway.

Ok ok ok. Right. Yes, you’re right. I like lost my mind for a second, that’s all. If this whole thing wasn’t so horrible – and if the setup work didn’t need to be done like yesterday, I’d say we need to have some kind of written introduction, something to hand them with our contact information on it, something that gives them an outline of our ideas? But we don’t want any of that floating around the country on paper, or buzzing around in cyberspace. We’re not doing this thing on Facebook.

These are women who understand the need for secrecy. They’ll be cool. But in other ways, there could be issues. Word is they were basically all white, middle class, straight – married even – and not especially political outside of the abortion underground. How will that play? Our crowd is way mixed, in all of that. And hey – I wonder if any of them turned – you know, went over to the other side, like the Roe woman did?

I’ve thought about that – not the turning, the other stuff. But, you know, maybe they weren’t. We can’t be sure. How ’bout that dykey one in the movie? The one in the flannel shirt who talks about how it was cool to do illegal work? She couldn’t be straight and married. But, ok. What if we just do it without them? Let’s think for a minute here. After we do the homework, just knowing what they did could be enough, like knowing the history of the Underground Railroad and what Harriet Tubman did, or the partisans in WWII, or the Warsaw Ghetto uprising. So – alone – I mean without them – how would we start? Call up doctors and say, Hey, now that abortion is illegal again in this country, will you break some laws to do it anyway?

I don’t know any doctors well enough to say that to them; but what about med students, nurses, doulas and midwives – all those “pro-choice” people we already know? There’s a woman who lives near my cousin Rhonda – oh, but she’s a dermatologist. Hey, my aunt Lallie is a nurse!

How about we each make an appointment with a doctor or a nurse or a midwife, and when we get in to see them, we sort of, like, interview them? We might have more luck with the alternative types – naturopaths, chiropractors, acupuncturists – they’re probably more open-minded to begin with; I heard acupuncturists can do it with a special needle pattern. Should we use fake names? Do you think we’d have to pay much for a visit just to talk? Oh, in this fucked-up medical system, probably.

What about supplies? How would we get all that? Remember what we learned from that Massachusetts woman two years ago? And Dr. Gomperts, online! About misoprostol already being used in other countries – India, someplace in Africa – alone, without mifepristone. And herbalists! We have to find the most recent info about how much to use, what’s safe. Like with pennyroyal – really effective but seriously dangerous, even lethal. Maybe we can have herbalist backups like the Janes had doctor backups. And remember the woman who talked about Filipino abortion massage? Let’s find that.

Yeah. But in the meantime, we keep looking for the Janes and – how about this? When we find them, we apply for that grant, the one for women’s history month, and we use the money to bring them here, to meet women here, and the women they meet here will be, like, the ones we’ll already be talking to about doing it – starting with women we know from the Coalition.

A grant? You think we can get a grant for this? Tell me what drug you are on.

I am totally, totally, totally serious. These women are historical figures. They are discussed in textbooks. They are in college research papers and high school term papers. We can hook up with some women’s studies people at Lewis and Clark, at PSU, maybe PCC, Reed. So we write a grant to bring Janes here as, like, “living history” or some shit like that. We don’t say we want them to teach a new generation of underground abortion workers. I wouldn’t put that in the “describe your project” section, no.

That could work! I mean, hey, it’s absolutely worth trying.

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This selection comes from Hello. This is Jane., avaible from Left Fork Books. Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Gokul Prabhu.

Judith Arcana writes poems, stories, essays and books — including Grace Paley’s Life Stories, a literary/political biography; Announcements from the Planetarium, a recent poetry collection; and, now, Hello. This is Jane, a fiction collection, linked stories seeded by Judith’s pre-Roe underground abortion work in Chicago. Visit juditharcana.com.

Gokul Prabhu is a graduate of Ashoka University, India, with a Postgraduate Diploma in English and creative writing. He works as an administrator and teaching assistant for the Writing and Communication facility at 9dot9 Education, and assists in academic planning for communication, writing and critical thinking courses across several higher-ed institutes in India. Prabhu’s creative and academic work fluctuates between themes of sexuality and silence, and he hopes to be a healthy mix of writer, educator and journalist in the future. He occasionally scribbles book reviews and interviews authors for Scroll.in, an award-winning Indian digital news publication.

Denah says, Are you telling me you want a name? I mean, a real name? Is it not ok for me to be calling you the Strawberry? Too cute? I suppose you know I’d have named you Franny, after my mother. If I’d kept you, I mean; if you’d been born.

The Strawberry says, Franny’s a good name and I like it, but – please don’t be offended, Denah, I know how you feel about her – I don’t think it’s right for me. I always thought her dying young was part of why you’re so thoughtful, so careful, about motherhood. I’ve even wondered if, any of the times you got tattooed, you ever thought about those hearts that say MOTHER. But you know what? I think you’re on to something here. You know how sometimes it takes somebody else saying what you think to make you know that’s what you think? I am interested in having a name.

I used to think those heart tattoos are like Mother’s Day cards – mostly phony and superficial. But they are classic flash, and I might find the nostalgia appealing; I mean, if I were to do it now. I’m sure some of the people who get them are sincere. I could get a heart that says “Franny,” or a ribbon with her name on it. There’s this woman here in town whose work I really like; she’d do a good job.

Think about it, turn it over in your mind. But right now, let’s concentrate on a name for me. I think maybe I need kind of a trans name, Denah. Because my gender wasn’t done yet when you aborted me. I was, what, 5-6 weeks at most? Practically still an embryo. You can say I’m female, because at that stage every fetus is – but I think I should have a name that’s not gender-specific.

I never thought of that! You know, I already had Joey and I’d have wanted a girl if I was going to have another one. I wasn’t thinking of you, I mean you as I know you now – now since this whole relationship, the Strawberry thing, got started. It never occurred to me. Maybe I’m not so thoughtful and careful as you say. 

No way. You’re a really good mother – to Joey. Our relationship hasn’t been much like that. I mean, I’ve never needed you to mother me; we’re more like friends than mother-and-child, don’t you think? Our relationship is a hybrid anyway, not one or the other. Not ordinary, for sure. In fact, it’s a trans thing, another trans thing! Which brings us back to my name; I think you’re right. But this is complicated.

I’ll say! Well, nothing is ever simple, really. That’s why making decisions is so tough. That’s why those bozos who go around saying “you’re either with us or against us,” are so dangerous – to say nothing of stupid. Wait, no – they’re not all stupid – not actually stupid per se. Maybe they think making choices seem easy will encourage people to act. But I doubt it. They just want to simplify reality. I can understand the impulse; don’t get me wrong. Being mature and competent is difficult – and it takes time. But I’d rather work at being mature and competent than skip over the reality part, you know?

That’s some speech, Denah – especially for a woman who’s talking to her aborted fetus, thirty years on. The part about reality? You’re cute when you’re philosophical, verging on rhetorical. You should write about us, or make a movie! A short one maybe, a cartoon – the abortion could be great in animation! Put that in your notes for when you finish your other one, ok? Now though, what about my name? Let’s get back to practical concerns: practicality R us, ok?

Now, don’t you get offended, but – sometimes I think you’re not real, you know? I think I made you up. That we’re not really having a two-way conversation here, that you’re a projection, a fantasy I made up to help me think about things – like when I talk out loud to people I love who are dead. We’ve discussed that, haven’t we? About how some of the people in my life are dead, some are alive, and I relate to all of ‘em? And even though you’re not actually a person, never got far enough along to be one, I include you in that. Other times, though, I’m totally positive you’re real. And you know, now that we’re talking about it, I’d rather have you be real; I think real means you’re independent.

Independent is good. Let’s say I’m real. Yeah, I’d rather be real. Hey, do you think the fact we agree about so much, so many things, is an argument for the influence of genetics? In the nature/nurture argument? No, wait – since we’ve been doing this for so many years, you could make the case it’s learned, environmental. Oh, whatever. 

Yeah, and the fact that I have this relationship with you is part of my whole take on the politics of reproductive justice. These conversations with you have influenced me a lot. Like with that piece in the New York Times Magazine some years back? You were so helpful then! Have you thought any more about those fundamentalist types I told you about? The ones who put all the heaven and god stuff onto their aborted fetuses? I mean, hey, ok, they want to talk to an aborted fetus? Fine, do it – I do it. Just don’t do it like that. Let’s have some respect here! I don’t even talk to children like that, like words are fuzzy booties. I didn’t talk like that when Joey was a baby, that fake voice, high-pitched and constantly excited – how so many people talk to babies? And dogs! Lots of ‘em even talk to dogs that way!

Calm down, Denah. I’m with you on this – all the way. 

You know, I used to think about Ethel Kennedy – she had all those kids and seemed to have a really good time with them. Now I think about Angelina Jolie – same thing, except she doesn’t make them all herself. I suppose seemed is the operative word here – I mean, how the hell do I know what those women think and feel? My point is, the money. If I’d had unlimited money, like those women, would I have wanted unlimited children? That was long before I knew about the outrageous carbon footprint of the USA’s consumer-citizens, so, back then, would I have wanted a couple kids? A few? Several? Because, I’ve said to myself in that mood, with lotsa money I’d have enough time to write and raise kids; I wouldn’t have to work for pay. Oh, wait – I bet Ethel and Angelina have servants – that doesn’t appeal to me, the servant thing. What I’ve wondered is, if I’d had money, lots of money, pots of money, would I have had you – you think?

No way we can know. Since you ask, I’ll say this: Given your work and the things you love, I don’t see making more people as an especially good choice. And there was David to consider. It was sweet how he sat on the bed and held your hand when Claudia took me out – a righteous lover, a responsible guy. But he wasn’t into being a father, never did want kids, right? Didn’t he get a vasectomy after me? So you’d have had all that to deal with if you’d gone that way. Right? Anyway, we’re getting way off the subject – my name. Let’s concentrate here. What about Leslie, like Leslie Feinberg? She was a trans hero and even her nickname goes both ways. Or, what if I go in another direction – irony. Then maybe Marion, like John Wayne was before Hollywood? Irony ought to figure in this somehow, don’t you think?

You should be the one to choose. Finding a name is always hard. It took Eli and me a long time to name Joey. We didn’t decide until he was maybe two weeks old. We called him Baby and Honey and Little Bub until we finally got it. And the hospital people were so nasty about it! Like it’s their goddamn business anyway. It’s all about the paperwork, the birth certificate – but they acted like it’d be bad for the baby not to have a name immediately – they tried to shame us, like we were bad parents. They really pissed me off.

Setting aside the habitual bad behavior of the medical industry, I have to point out that my situation is notably different. From his, I mean. And the other one – the miscarriage? Talk about “notably different”! We’ll never know who that was. 

Not if you don’t – that’s for sure. I’d have no way, no way at all, of finding out. If there are resources, they’d be in your sphere, not mine. Anyway, yeah, no three pregnancies or kids are ever the same. The fact they’re all from the same mother, or same family, notwithstanding.

“Notwithstanding” – what does that actually mean, anyway?

Too much to explain. Think of it as an elder cousin of “whatever.”

I like the idea of everybody choosing their own name at some specified age, and having a naming ritual. I know some people do that.

Looks like that’s where we are right now – and I love the idea of creating a ritual! All this time I’ve been thinking of you as the Strawberry, but maybe we’ve arrived at a “specified age.” And really, if you choose a name I don’t like, or don’t immediately click with, so what? Soon that name will be you; it’ll be your name, and that’ll be that. I don’t want to lean on you.

What if I were Berry, or even Straw – sounds like a clown in Shakespeare, doesn’t it? One of those funny guys in A Midsummer Night’s Dream?

Hey, either is fine, but not if you’re just trying to please me. Do you like those names?

Oh, I’m just sort of riffing on what’s already here. So: there’s Berry, spelled with an e – that’s got the nostalgia thing going, from the last thirty years, reminding us of what I looked like in the syringe.

True, but now that we’re analyzing, it sounds like a boy’s name – when you hear it, it’s like Barry with an a. If you were a person, with a social security number and a photo ID, everybody would think you were a man if they heard it – it’d be gendered; it doesn’t have a trans hit. Straw is genderless – it’s got that going for it.

Yeah, but maybe it brings to mind the camel’s back, and I don’t want that connotation.

You think? I got chocolate malt, right away, my first word association.

(Laughing) Well, you would, Denah, and it would be – for you. Thing is, there aren’t any rules we ought to follow – I bet even Miss Manners published no guideline for this. My situation is, as far as we know, pretty unconventional.

But she might have had something to say, something to suggest. She’s flexible, smart – she keeps learning. Look, she had to come up with ideas about cell phone etiquette – if that’s not an oxymoron. She might not be daunted by this.

She’d need the image – the visual. She’d need the kind of information you had. I’ve always thought the reason you can have this relationship with me is that you know what I actually looked like before, during and after the abortion. You knew about embryonic and fetal anatomy, and you had the strawberry jam image. Hey, don’t you think it’s cool I had a tail? Even though I couldn’t do much with it – I mean, given lack of external context and such minimal physical presence. Did you think I’d be a girl back then because you wanted a girl?

I suppose. I thought since I already had a boy it’d be a good balance. I was so crazy about Joey, and we were so happy. Yeah, at that time, because being a conscious woman was new to me, I thought it’d be great to raise a free woman, like raising a good man. I was young and excited and ignorant – I still believed in revolution. I mean, on a national scale, like Cuba and VietNam. I know those two weren’t completely successful, but still.

Cuba and VietNam! What about a country name? Russia!

That’s a great name, and it fits – given our ancestors and all.

What an idea! I like it. Russia! Or, given all the creepy hacking stuff, maybe we should make a list. Some for sound – you know, the beauty of it; some for family relationship; some for meaning, like symbolism – Cuba would be like that. Are there others?

India, China, Canada! Mexico, Cameroon, Persia, Egypt, Italy! This is a great idea! I love it! Except now it’s hard to choose – there are so many.

Take your time, Honey. And think about whether the politics of the actual country will matter to you.

I don’t know; I mean, governments change over time. Like, if I’m Russia, I don’t have to think about Putin, I can think about Gorbachev or the early twentieth century idealists, or your grandparents – or just the land: Mother Russia. Or if I’m Persia, I don’t need to deal with Iran’s politics. I like the sound of Persia. What if we test them? Let’s use one for a while and see if it works, see if I like being called that.

Fine with me; any way you want to do this is fine with me. Which one should we start with?

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This selection comes from Hello. This is Jane., avaible from Left Fork Books. Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Gokul Prabhu.

Judith Arcana writes poems, stories, essays and books — including Grace Paley’s Life Stories, a literary/political biography; Announcements from the Planetarium, a recent poetry collection; and, now, Hello. This is Jane, a fiction collection, linked stories seeded by Judith’s pre-Roe underground abortion work in Chicago. Visit juditharcana.com.

Gokul Prabhu is a graduate of Ashoka University, India, with a Postgraduate Diploma in English and creative writing. He works as an administrator and teaching assistant for the Writing and Communication facility at 9dot9 Education, and assists in academic planning for communication, writing and critical thinking courses across several higher-ed institutes in India. Prabhu’s creative and academic work fluctuates between themes of sexuality and silence, and he hopes to be a healthy mix of writer, educator and journalist in the future. He occasionally scribbles book reviews and interviews authors for Scroll.in, an award-winning Indian digital news publication.

Looking for that perfect gift for the writer in your life? Chances are they’ve got a drawer full of new notebooks, so you might want to reconsider that Moleskine. Instead, we have compiled a list of thoughtful gifts that your writer will be sure to love, whether they are a prolific poet or scribbling their novel on napkins. 

1 – Fancy Pens or Pencils

The pen is mightier than the sword, of course, so treat your writer to a fancy pen from Fahrney’s Pens, the favorite choice of Best of the Net’s Assistant Editor Millie Tullis. Or if they prefer pencils, check out Blackwing’s beautiful classics. 

2 – Socks

No one can write with cold feet! Help them keep those toes warm with a pair of socks. Everybody likes socks – just ask Erin Elizabeth Smith, Sundress Publications‘ Managing Editor. Darn Tough makes durable socks in charming patterns that will last years, through all your writer’s revision processes.

3 – Art

Beautiful art can help brighten your writer’s space. Sundress Associate Editor, Brynn Martin, creates lovely embroidery that can add a touch of personality to any wall. 

4 – A Bookstore Gift Card

There’s nothing better than slowly wandering through the aisles of your local bookstore, looking for a book to fall in love with. Robin Gow, Assistant Editor-at-Large at Doubleback Books, suggests purchasing a gift card to your writer’s shop of choice so they can expand their library and support their local bookshop. 

5 – Coffee or Tea

Who couldn’t use more of their favorite brew? Best of the Net Assistant Editor, Millie Tullis suggests buying some nice coffee or tea for your writer this season. Or buy them a mug warmer so they don’t have to worry about their cup of tea going cold.

6 – An Under-Desk Massager

If this year has your writer spending more time at home, help them upgrade their desk setup with an under desk massager. Give them another reason to look forward to writing sessions. Best of the Net Managing Editor and Sundress Associate Editor, Anna Black loves hers!

7 – A Wax Seal

A wax seal turns an ordinary letter into an extraordinary one. Artisaire will even create a custom stamp with your design! There’s also this pretty one from Etsy seller ArteOfTheBooke, as recommended by Millie Tullis.

8 – Scrivener

Help turn that novel idea into a polished manuscript with Scrivener, the writing app beloved by novelists, journalists, memoirists, students, and more.  

9 – Blue Light Blocking Glasses

Feeling blue from the blue light of the computer screen? Some blue light blocking glasses could help stop those headaches.

10 – Candles

Candles breathe new life into a space. They smell nice, look pretty, and are so mesmerizing to watch as they flicker. Buy your writer some candles to help brighten up their desk. Karen Craigo, author of two Sundress collections: Passing Through Humansville (2018) and No More Milk (2016), suggests setting an intention when you light one.

11 – A MasterClass Membership

Editorial Intern Natalie Metropulos recommends giving the gift of an annual MasterClass membership, which provides access to not only writing classes but ALL the MasterClass classes for one year. Take a writing class with Margaret Atwood or master the ollie with Tony Hawk.

12 – A Book

As the days get shorter and hygge season arrives, nothing beats curling up with a good book. Treat your writer to one of Sundress Publication’s wonderful titles this holiday season.

13 – Tarot Cards

Tarot cards can be a fun party trick, a way to encourage reflection, or a sacred guiding tool. Brynn Martin thinks they make a great gift – and there are so many beautiful decks out there, like the original Rider-Waite style, or this one created by illustrator Isabella Rotman.

14 – Writer Survival Kit

For the writer who compares writing to pulling words across a gulf in a breathless anguish (a la Virginia Woolf): give them a pick-me-up with what Sundress Assitant Editor Alex DiFrancesco calls a “writer survival kit”: a care package with notebooks, pens and pencils, chocolate, charms, and more.

15 – A Getaway

Rather than buying something material, buy your writer time in the form of a getaway. As Karen Craigo says, time is the best gift you can buy a writer. You could sponsor their attendance at a Sundress Academy for the Arts writer’s residency at Firefly Farms, or perhaps find them a nice cabin in which they can unwind and unplug. After this year, this is something we all need.

16 – A Notebook (Okay, One Notebook)

While most writers may have a drawer full of blank notebooks… that doesn’t mean they don’t want more. Sundress Development Intern, Julia Hines, loves the notebooks offered by Of Aspen. They also sell art supplies and other charming knickknacks.

The entire Sundress team wishes all of our writers, readers, and people who love writers and readers the very best and most warm and loving holiday season. Thank you for supporting Sundress, and the writers in your life. We love them, too.

A motley group of clergymen began meeting less than a year after the Roberts court overturned the Roe v. Wade decision of their 1973 predecessors. Here’s a partial transcript taken from FBI files:

John Smith: Truth is, I’m not good at knowing what to say when a woman comes into my office, bursts into tears, tells me she’s pregnant and can’t have the baby. I think probably I need to have a woman in there with me, talking.

Sam Abramowitz: Can you have someone from the congregation join you for those meetings?

John Smith: Thing is, I don’t always know, when she says she wants to talk to me, that’ll be the subject of the conversation – I don’t have anybody on call or nearby I can get to right away, when the conversation goes that way.

Ahmed Mustafah: Whoa, wait a minute here. I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring members of your congregation into what might turn out to be criminal activity.

Joe Cohen: I agree with Ahmed; what we need is some kind of training, so we can be better at talking with these women.

Doug Grayson: Do we need to do more than give referrals?

Stan McKellen: Yes! Don’t you guys consider this a part of pastoral counseling? I mean, these women are coming to us with a serious emotional problem, something that requires guidance and comfort, the same way they’d come to us for anything else, like if they found out their kids were using drugs or their partners unfaithful – whatever. Even though abortion is illegal again, the counseling part is the same as it always was. Think about what that guy in Wichita had to go through – probably still has to deal with even now – having George Tiller assassinated right there in his church! What would that feel like? PTSD for the whole congregation, right? Tiller was a deacon, for Lord’s sake! Hey, don’t look at me like that, you guys. I can’t help thinking about these things.

Sam Abramowitz: I hear he’s had a lot of community support, and some seminary students as back-up. You know, we only hear about the yahoos, but there are some good people out there in Wichita. Anyway, in terms of your question, yeah, that’s what I think – but really, we need to deal with a bunch of different elements here, which is why I still say we ought to talk to some of the old guys, the ones who were doing hard stuff in the early civil rights movement in the fifties and sixties, and the ones who did this before Roe. Some of them are still alive – and some are still active.

Charlie Washington: Right. And guys, don’t forget lots of us have been working in opposition to secular law in other ways – some of us went public, talked to the media about gay marriage and commitment ceremonies, about “illegal” immigrants taking sanctuary in the church. Like other times in history, including the clergy who defied slavery – or Hitler.

Ahmed Mustafah: Yeah, all six of ‘em.

Joe Cohen: Hey! Good one – you’re one more funny Semite, Ahmed. Ok, the most absolutely basic thing we need to know is, where’s it safe to send these women? We just can’t ever forget what we’re doing is against the law now. It’s like draft counseling was, or helping members of the Guard and the Army get out – isn’t it?

Bob Sanders: Ok, so, yes, we have to train ourselves, train each other, to actually be of comfort, to be supportive in the face of all the related issues, and to show them how making an abortion decision is actually within their religious tradition, is historically –

Ahmed Mustafah: I’m worried about how we deal with the more conservative (to say the least) of our colleagues – we need to talk about how that’s going to work. In my case, and you guys all know this, those people are after me all the time, and they raid my congregation, for young men especially –

Doug Grayson: You know, that’s starting to happen to me, too – the hellfire guys, one in particular, are openly critical of me. They put on a show every Sunday – and you know about those bozos on tv! I’m too reasonable, my wife says, too “low-key.” And I’m thinking, well, what am I supposed to do?

Charlie Washington: Don’t laugh, brothers, but I’m using hip-hop; I’m doing a rap sermon at one of my Sunday services, and the place rocks. Most of the parents and grandparents are grateful. You know me – I prefer gospel, I’m an oldtime-religion kind of guy, but I want those kids and they want that stuff, so I’m on it. Hey, I got me a DJ for the Sunday school – why not?

Sam Abramowitz: Hey yourself; I’m not laughing, Charlie. I’ve got a hot klezmer group coming to my shul every other Friday to play at the Oneg Shabbat and alternate weeks at the Sunday School; one of the musicians does stand-up. Just like you, I want the kids. I want them laughing!

Jefferson Darnley: At the meeting house, we’ve got a film series the kids like; right after Roverturn we focused on pregnancy choices with a double feature – Dirty Dancing and Juno. It was a big success; they couldn’t stop talking. So we’re going to do it again, with Spitfire Grill and Ciderhouse Rules, or maybe Obvious Child.

Charlie Washington: Yep, that’s right – pay attention to what they enjoy, and then you know what to do next. Like, when even guys with gang tattoos show up, I know I’m heading in the right direction.

John Smith: What happened with that guy in Michigan – pastor called Benting or Bentley or something? The one who opened a tattoo parlor in his church a couple years ago? Did that stick? More important, did it work?

Bob Sanders: I don’t know, but when I read about him doing it, I loved that the set-up was right by the baptism tank. I thought right away, when I read that, this guy is bold! But, anyway, I want to change the subject – I need to bring up something that’s been bothering me about our group here: we’re still men only – I mean, I know in the sixties that was a fact of life for the Concerned Clergy network, but why don’t the women clergy come to our meetings now? What’s that about? What’re we doing wrong?

Doug Grayson: I think they’re meeting with nurse-midwives and other women doing healthcare; I think their primary identity around these issues is the woman thing, not the clergy thing. I could be off base here, but that’s what it looks like to me.

Ahmed Mustafah: I definitely need help with this, guys; I’ve got serious gender issues at my mosque – gender and generation gaps, getting wider all the time.

Stan McKellen: Ok. I’m going to call a couple women I know – one’s a Methodist, one’s Presbyterian. I wish we had some radical Episcopalians! Not one Episcopal priest comes to these meetings – even though, in some sense, they’re “more radical than thou” – than me, anyway. They’ve got social justice history in this country. But yeah – it’s weird to have us gay male clergy here but nobody from the girls’ team. More alliances! We need more alliances. Coalition! Networking! And [a chorus of voices joins him] Outreach! Underground outreach – a contradiction in terms!

Jefferson Darnley: What about Mormons? Do any of you know those guys? Are they still impenetrable, or corrupt like Scientologists? How about that radical priest at St Simone? We’ve never, correct me if I’m wrong here, had a Catholic priest come to our meetings. But that guy, the one old Sweeney ranted about in Chicago – probably that’s what finally killed Sweeney, undead for as long as he was – you know, the one in the feature story in the NY Times Magazine? Whether the Pope likes him or not, I sure do.

Bob Sanders: Somehow I doubt the opinion of a Quaker is going to carry much weight in that situation.

John Smith: Are you guys out of your minds? Why are you even talking about this? I mean, why not a vampire pastor? A zombie minister? They’d be about as likely – and more popular with the kids, too.

Charlie Washington: No, no, John! You’re not paying enough attention to the progressive wing of the RCC. You gotta start reading Conscience. Those people rock.

Ahmed Mustafah: Oh, thanks guys – thank you all. That’ll help a lot at my place; that’s just what I need out in front, a pack of infidels with priests’ collars.

Joe Cohen: Well Ahmed, since we’re all into breaking the law for God, there won’t be much going on “out in front,” so I don’t think you have to worry about that. Not right now, anyway. Not yet.

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This selection comes from Hello. This is Jane., avaible from Left Fork Books. Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Gokul Prabhu.

Judith Arcana writes poems, stories, essays and books — including Grace Paley’s Life Stories, a literary/political biography; Announcements from the Planetarium, a recent poetry collection; and, now, Hello. This is Jane, a fiction collection, linked stories seeded by Judith’s pre-Roe underground abortion work in Chicago. Visit juditharcana.com.

Gokul Prabhu is a graduate of Ashoka University, India, with a Postgraduate Diploma in English and creative writing. He works as an administrator and teaching assistant for the Writing and Communication facility at 9dot9 Education, and assists in academic planning for communication, writing and critical thinking courses across several higher-ed institutes in India. Prabhu’s creative and academic work fluctuates between themes of sexuality and silence, and he hopes to be a healthy mix of writer, educator and journalist in the future. He occasionally scribbles book reviews and interviews authors for Scroll.in, an award-winning Indian digital news publication.

The May morning is already bright but Denah and Eli are deep in sleep; it’s maybe six when the phone rings, startling them awake. The phone’s on his side of the bed.

Hullo? Huh? Yeah, just a minute. He hands the phone to Denah, rocking her shoulder and mouthing silently, It’s for Jane.

Denah sits up to get clear. Hello? Yes, this is Jane. Who’s this?

Her voice gets stronger. What’s happening? Where are you?

Denah sits all the way up, against the headboard. Ok. Now, wait, please stop talking for a second and take a few deep, slow breaths. She breathes into the phone, a model. Then, suddenly, she throws herself across the bed, across Eli, and slams the phone down.

Omygod, Eli! Get up – there’s a woman, across the street at Grant, she’s there right now, she went there to miscarry. Some doctor has been threatening her, and she’s hysterical – he grabbed the phone right out of her hand just now – yelled at me – says he knows where I am! He said, We know who you are. We know where you are. He says they’re coming right now!

Eli sits up fast and says, Let’s look. They jump off the bed, rush to the front window, the side of their building that faces the hospital. The street is empty, silent. 

Denah is wild-eyed; Eli is calm. He puts his hands on her shoulders and says, Let’s get out of here.

Yes! And we have to get the Jane stuff out! Jesus! Eli – I have everything! The cards, the file, the phone machine, the beeper – it’s all here.

We’ll take care of it. He’s getting dressed as he talks. We’re going to put everything – all of it – in my golf bag. I’ll go out like always, down the fire escape. You go out the door, walk toward the lake on Webster. I’ll meet you in the car at the corner of Clark. In the car we’ll figure out where to go.

They’re both dressed now – cut-offs, t-shirts, glasses; she pushes the Jane gear into his bag, he slides in a couple pairs of socks and stuffs a jacket on top. They’re out of the apartment in less than four minutes, at the corner of Clark Street in less than two more.

Eli drives south on small streets, zig-zagging like a Jane on a work day. They stop at a gas station past Roosevelt Road, so Denah can call Allie.

Allie opens the door of her Hyde Park apartment wearing a bathrobe and long sparkly earrings. Her face is puffy from sleep. When they’re inside, she goes to her front window and

looks out.

Nothing. I think it was a bluff. He didn’t really know where you were, or who you are. You weren’t her counselor – she just called you Jane. Why did she even have your number?

I said Rita could give it to her for backup, in case Rita couldn’t deal with whatever she needed when labor started. You know, the kids or something. So she gave her my number and just told her it was another Jane. But here’s the thing – if they have that number, they can get the name & address from Reverse Information – I don’t know why they didn’t, or haven’t. Or maybe they did. Maybe they have – by now.

Eli says, Well, maybe she didn’t have it written down. Maybe she memorized it.

Denah and Allie look at him. Allie says to Denah, More likely she dialed before he came in, so the number wasn’t sitting out there when he busted in on her and grabbed the phone. If he had that number, maybe he would have done what he said; they’d’ve been in your apartment before you were out of it. I think he doesn’t have it. He doesn’t know. He can’t know. Who he is and how he thinks, every day of his life, keep him from knowing who we are and what we do. Guys like that never know these things because they can’t – lucky for us – imagine them.

Eli dodged around on the way here – we didn’t take the Drive. I’m sure nobody followed us. But I want to leave everything here for a while, Allie. At the next meeting we can decide – if

nothing’s happened – where it all should be, whether it’s safe to keep it at my place again.

In the car on the way home Eli says, It’s not safe to have that stuff at our place, Denah. It never was, and now for sure. How much closer do they have to be – I mean, that hospital is across the street, forgodsake.

If nothing happens, I think Allie is right – he was bluffing. There’s no reason to change anything.

There is silence in the car. Then Eli says, How about this for a reason? The end of June’ll be five months, you’ll be starting to look pregnant, easy to spot; maybe it’ll be harder for you to move fast. And there’s me, too, Denah. My place in all this, what I think, my feelings – my law license! That’s not a reason?

Let’s see what happens. We don’t have to decide anything right this minute.

They are quiet again, driving along the lake. It’s maybe seven now, and the light on the water is turning to gold.

Then Eli says, Ok. Ok. So – was she wearing those earrings while she was sleeping? Those long earrings, at six-thirty in the morning? I mean, did she wear them to bed? Or did she put them on when you called, because we were coming over? Or what? What about that? I mean, you gotta wonder.

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This selection comes from Hello. This is Jane., avaible from Left Fork Books. Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Gokul Prabhu.

Judith Arcana writes poems, stories, essays and books — including Grace Paley’s Life Stories, a literary/political biography; Announcements from the Planetarium, a recent poetry collection; and, now, Hello. This is Jane, a fiction collection, linked stories seeded by Judith’s pre-Roe underground abortion work in Chicago. Visit juditharcana.com.

Gokul Prabhu is a graduate of Ashoka University, India, with a Postgraduate Diploma in English and creative writing. He works as an administrator and teaching assistant for the Writing and Communication facility at 9dot9 Education, and assists in academic planning for communication, writing and critical thinking courses across several higher-ed institutes in India. Prabhu’s creative and academic work fluctuates between themes of sexuality and silence, and he hopes to be a healthy mix of writer, educator and journalist in the future. He occasionally scribbles book reviews and interviews authors for Scroll.in, an award-winning Indian digital news publication.

Sandy says, talking to the host behind the long desk, looking into the camera: Some Janes say the woman’s name was Selina, but I was told her name was Glenda. One time I heard somebody say she’d actually used a coat hanger; another time it was a knitting needle. Truth is though, nobody in the Service knew what she’d done before she called us; she didn’t tell us anything. She just showed up for her appointment like everybody else.

She hadn’t told her counselor she already tried to do it – and she’d probably lied about how far along she was, too. There were always women and girls who lied or said they didn’t know, because they were afraid. They thought we wouldn’t do it if they said the wrong date – you know, the wrong number of weeks – too many weeks. 

She, Glenda or Selina, even faked her temperature. They’d left her alone with the thermometer in her mouth, and she must’ve taken it out or shaken it down, so her infection fever didn’t register. 

She was desperate, and desperation made her body so rigid they couldn’t get the speculum in; they had to massage her thighs and perineum for almost fifteen minutes. When she finally relaxed, a rush of thick yellow pus came out. The pus poured out of her vagina, down the speculum, all over her thighs, all down the plastic sheet. Then they knew. Even the sweat smell, before that, had seemed normal. I mean, they thought it was only fear, you know? Janes were used to that. 

She was shaking while they cleaned her, sobbing and talking in that kind of whisper-shout you do sometimes with panic. They were telling her she had to go to the hospital, telling her Arlene would leave right then and take her, drive her right from there to the emergency room. But she just kept saying No. No. No. No. Her voice rasped when she said she couldn’t, could not, have that baby. She could hardly breathe. Her eyes and her crying were wild. She screamed, I brought money!

Arlene and MaryAnn talked about it that night, telling Sandy they were practically shaking when they took out the speculum and carefully, gently, washed her; how Glenda was trying to get up while they worked; how she pulled her clothes on and rushed out of the apartment; how they tried to but could not stop her when she ran down the stairs. They had the phone number she’d given, but nobody answered when they called. They called for two days and nights, and nobody answered.

Then, on the third night, somebody picked up the phone. He said, Miss Glenda’s passed. I’m so sorry to have to tell you like this. She’s gone. This is her pastor speaking. Would you like to talk to a member of the family?

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This selection comes from Hello. This is Jane., avaible from Left Fork Books. Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Gokul Prabhu.

Judith Arcana writes poems, stories, essays and books — including Grace Paley’s Life Stories, a literary/political biography; Announcements from the Planetarium, a recent poetry collection; and, now, Hello. This is Jane, a fiction collection, linked stories seeded by Judith’s pre-Roe underground abortion work in Chicago. Visit juditharcana.com.

Gokul Prabhu is a graduate of Ashoka University, India, with a Postgraduate Diploma in English and creative writing. He works as an administrator and teaching assistant for the Writing and Communication facility at 9dot9 Education, and assists in academic planning for communication, writing and critical thinking courses across several higher-ed institutes in India. Prabhu’s creative and academic work fluctuates between themes of sexuality and silence, and he hopes to be a healthy mix of writer, educator and journalist in the future. He occasionally scribbles book reviews and interviews authors for Scroll.in, an award-winning Indian digital news publication.