Wendy Davis: ‘My stand on abortion showed women what we could achieve’
by
Wendy Davis
Early on the morning of Tuesday 25 June 2013, I awoke to prepare for what I knew would be a difficult day. In a few hours, with the help of my Democratic colleagues, I would attempt to kill Senate Bill 5 – a bill which, if passed, would impose on Texas women some of the most sweeping abortion restrictions in the US. If things went according to plan, I would have to be out on the senate floor by 11:11am to filibuster the bill, talking it to death for 13 hours until midnight, when the clock would run out on the 83rd session of the Texas senate.
The roots of the word “filibuster” can be traced, in different forms, back to Dutch (vrijbuiter) and Spanish (filibustero), but the common meaning was the same –“piracy”– a fitting word. Filibusters in the Texas senate are rare, not just because they can take place only on the last day of a senate session, but because they truly are a test of endurance. Unlike filibusters in the US senate, the rules in Texas are very strict: You may not touch your desk. You may not lean on your desk. You may not have a sip of water. You may not leave the floor for any reason, to eat or to go to the bathroom. You may not even have a stick of gum. On top of that, there’s the three-strike rule: if a senator is called for three points of order for not staying on topic, the filibuster can be ended.
Needing moral support, I spent the night before the big day with my boyfriend, Will. I bathed while listening to Bruce Robison’s What Would Willie Do, as I often do on days that I know will be tough. Its lighthearted lyrics remind me that I can overcome any challenge with the right attitude. At 6:30am, a young female doctor arrived to fit me for a catheter. Knowing why she’d been summoned, she was warm and encouraging. Unfortunately, though, she had not brought a urine-collecting “leg bag” with her but instead a large bag that hospital patients use. The length of tubing was close to six feet, and I knew that getting all of it wrapped around my leg in a way that could be disguised under my clothing was going to be a challenge.
After I dressed, Will brought me a boiled egg. It’s his practice to draw faces on the boiled eggs he keeps in his refrigerator – a gag for his teenage daughters. On this morning Will brought me an egg with an angry grimace, its eyebrows furrowed, its eyes narrowed, its mouth set in a resolute line. I knew that this “badass” egg face was the perfect choice to help me start the day ahead. All it could have used was a penned-in pirate’s eye patch.
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http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/sep/12/wendy-davis-my-stand-abortion-showed-women-what-could-achieve
