This week, Ireland votes on whether it will repeal the Eighth Amendment, which denies women the right to an abortion in all circumstances except in cases where her life is in danger. In the run-up to this historic vote, Broadly will be giving a platform to the victims of this inhumane law and the activists fighting for change. You can follow our coverage ahead of Friday's vote here.Every year, thousands of Irish women travel to the UK, where abortion is legal, to terminate their pregnancies. These women are, relatively speaking, the lucky ones. Low-income women, those in abusive relationships who are unable to leave their partners, and migrant women without the necessary paperwork may find themselves unable to access abortion care. Meanwhile, the experience of traveling to a foreign country for medical treatment in itself can be profoundly traumatizing.
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In April 2016, Dublin-based activists Grace Dyas and Emma Fraser created NOT AT HOME, a durational art campaign that recounts the journeys of Irish women abroad to access abortion services. The pair collected anonymous online testimony from women and spoke with with healthcare professionals, taxi drivers, and others who help Irish women seeking abortions on a daily basis."As we get closer to a referendum, the division between those on both sides of this issue has continued to deepen," explains Dyas. "As that gap widens, the space for thoughtful articulation of women’s lived experiences gets smaller and smaller. We developed NOT AT HOME as a calm, inclusive way to reclaim some of that space for the thousands of women who have traveled."Fraser and Dyas believe that it is vital to listen to those who have lived experience of Ireland's abortion laws. "Before any vote is cast or any mind is made up, we believe we need to understand the reality of our current situation," Fraser says. "We hope to give people some time and some space to listen, to empathize and to reflect."Below are some of the testimonies that Fraser and Dyas have collected from Irish women who were forced to travel abroad for abortions. NOT AT HOME has given all the interviewees pseudonyms to protect their identity.
Lana
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I live with my older sister as both our parents passed away. My mom was always pro-choice, and so was my sister. We discussed things like this before. Now, looking back, I don't know why I didn't tell her. We were so close, I don't know why I didn't say something. She was also pregnant at the time too, but in a very different situation. She was an adult, with her own house, and both her and her now-husband had really good jobs.When I sat and thought about keeping it, it just didn't make sense. I had nothing to offer a child, I was still a child myself. Our trip to England, looking back [on it], was absolutely terrible. We had to take a train all the way from Wales to Manchester. I was already in a horrible situation that I was determined to resolve. Having to make a trip to England just felt unnecessary.The procedure was actually the easy part. The scariest part was being in a different country with no support from people in Ireland. The trip back was the worst. I had to make that horrible journey back in pain. I remember trying to sleep on the boat was the worst part. I felt so vulnerable. All this would have been less terrifying if I had been able to get this done in Ireland instead."
Róisín
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We stayed in a hostel in London because we couldn't afford anything else, so we spent two nights there. In the weeks leading up to it, I was so sick. I'd wake up and get sick, and then I'd have to get off the train to get sick again. And sometimes again, mid-morning. It was awful. I didn't tell any of my friends about it, mainly because I didn't know how they'd react, and also because telling them would make it more real.The morning of the procedure, we had to travel for about an hour and a half across London in rush-hour traffic. I had to get off the tube to vomit a couple of times, and it was horrendous. When we finally got there I remember a little old man praying outside the clinic with his rosary beads, and I was so angry at him, and at Ireland for making me travel all the way over there. They didn't let my boyfriend in, he had to stay outside in a little prefab waiting room.When I went in, I was sitting alongside a girl who was sobbing. I wanted to say something to her, but I didn't know what. GMTV [a breakfast TV show] was on. Then I went into the room and had to put my feet up in the stirrups while I was consciously sedated. They don't let Irish women take the tablets, so it had to be just the surgical option."
Niamh
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I saw a woman who used to be a friend of my parents. I noticed she was pregnant too. She must have been coming in for a scan. I hid in the corridor. The doctor scanned my belly and told me that I was nine weeks pregnant. He started taking me through the schedule, advising when my next scan would be. I found it hard to listen because I was trying to find the moment and right words. Then I told him that I was planning to terminate the pregnancy. I said 'terminate,' instead of 'abortion,' because I thought it sounded more grown-up, more considered, less tacky.He stopped what he was doing. He looked at me, said nothing for a moment, then turned away and taking off his rubber gloves he said, 'I can't discuss that with you.' I shuffled my cringe-worthy, filthy body off the medical chair and left the room as fast as I could. Left him there, judging me.Smartphones weren't around then, so I used our home computer to find a clinic in London, and emailed them. It was going to cost 600 euros ($718), plus extra for flights and accommodation. I didn't have that. I had a summer job as a waitress and no savings. My unemployed older boyfriend didn't have it either. In fact, he owed money. Besides, why on earth would he contribute when he so passionately disapproved?So I started to save. I felt like a ticking time bomb was growing inside me. The apron I wore at work grew tighter, and I grew weaker. The longer it took me to save, the more I was growing. The clinic website warned that after certain junctures in the term the procedure got more complicated, less legal. I had already passed one or two junctures. I borrowed money from a loan shark that my boyfriend's mother used. I pretended the money was for a car."
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Claudia
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