Molly, 35, who uses they/them pronouns, says they will not be deterred from helping patients get the care they need at a Milwaukee clinic that provides abortions. Here, they share their story with Bonnie Fuller.
From a very young age, I’ve had an intense sense of right and wrong. The concept that my body would ever be treated differently from a man’s felt grossly unfair, and that’s something I’ve always been very passionate about.
I learned what abortion was when I was 12 years old, and I was very angry that anybody could ever disagree with it.
I learned about the existence of abortion clinic escorts from an article I read, and after the 2016 election, when Donald Trump was first elected, I felt very motivated to become one.
I had a sinking feeling that Trump was going to win. At that time, I was living in Illinois, and on election night I was watching the returns with a group of friends in Chicago.
They were all teachers who mostly worked with children from Hispanic communities, and they were terrified for their students.
I felt a lot of shame and guilt after the election because of my own inaction and not having been involved in any community activism to prevent this outcome, but I realized that shame and guilt weren’t going to help the situation.
I also knew that when you’re stuck in doomerism, the best thing you can do is something.
‘I am there for protesters to yell at so they don’t yell at the patients’
I decided to call my local Planned Parenthood the very next day to volunteer. Being an abortion escort appealed to me because I would be able to interact with people who were coming to the clinic to receive an abortion and give them support.
It was eight years ago when I first started this work, and it has become my passion. I usually do one four-hour shift during the week and another on Saturdays.
Being a clinic escort clicked with me right away. It aligned directly with my values—having control over your own body and life.
There was also something emotionally moving about being so integral in the situation, knowing that sometimes you were able to be the difference between somebody not being physically accosted or being accosted by protesters.
As an escort, I am there for the protesters to yell at so they don’t yell at the patients as much. I ended up moving to Wisconsin and escorting at an independent clinic in 2019 called Affiliated Medical Services, and it was a very tough location to do the work.
We were on a one-way street with no parking lot, and we were really nose to nose with anti-abortion protesters on the sidewalk. There are usually about a dozen anti-abortion protesters on a Saturday, which is our busiest day. We call the protesters the “antis.”
‘Protesters took the opportunity to spit on us’
There was a lot of pushing, shoving, elbowing, and side-checking from the protesters as we tried to escort patients in and out of the clinic. It’s strange because we learned to just brush it off, but I would say that a fair number of us escorts were physically assaulted.
The most brazen physical ‘assault’ was when one anti put both his hands on me and shoved me to the ground. Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt.
Then, in the COVID-19 era, the other escorts and I would wear face shields, and protesters took the opportunity to spit on us because we had them on.
But despite the physical violence we have encountered, not one of the escorts at my clinic has ever walked away with bruises.
The whole situation was very challenging because we would have to walk down the block to meet patients coming from their cars, and protesters would follow us.
We would greet patients and walk beside them, and then an anti would walk on their other side, so they would be sandwiched between us. The antis wanted to get as physically close as they could to patients so they could talk to them, give them literature, and try to get them to change their minds about having an abortion.
We would also walk patients back to their cars after their appointments because protesters would follow them, sometimes for blocks, yelling at them not to come back for their second appointment, which would be the actual abortion procedure.
Editor’s note: In Wisconsin, patients must undergo a mandatory 24-hour waiting period after a first appointment that includes counseling and a mandatory ultrasound.
In that clinic location, I would get nervous for the first year or so. But on the other hand, the pushing and shoving made you feel, in a very physical way, that you were standing your ground.
If I was ever lying in bed in the morning wondering if I should show up for my shift, the feeling that I needed to be there would come over me. I knew that protesters would be physically up on patients, and the physicality of it gave purpose to the work.
I tried to focus on that, and it made me less scared. Plus, I was doing escorting work with people who had been doing it for 30 years. These people are my elders, and I really respect them.
They would share horror stories from the 90s when it was even more volatile, and I thought, well, if they could handle that, then I can handle this.
‘Your life is very inconsequential to them’
I have learned so much about de-escalation. ICE agents in Minneapolis argued during recent large-scale protests there that they weren’t able to de-escalate situations.
But abortion clinic escorts are doing de-escalation with radicalized people, and we have no weapons. We are a unique group of people with strong de-escalation training.
If one of the protesters shoves you, you just keep walking. If an anti is walking next to your patient and starts pushing in, I would stand back and say, “Hey now, we don’t need to be pushing each other.”
If antis are yelling at us and getting angry, you turn away and don’t look at them.
When I train new escorts, I tell them the names of some of our regular protesters: “This is Joe. This is Sam.” I think names hold a lot of power, and if you know someone’s name, it takes away some of the fear.
The primary thing we should never do outside the clinic is argue with the antis or get into any philosophical conversation.
We see a range of emotions from patients when they arrive. Some are ready for the protesters and yell back at them, but others get upset and come in crying because it’s a very difficult day for them.
I’ve had people share their life stories with me—people in complex situations involving health issues or complicated family dynamics that led them to decide to have an abortion.
I feel honored, if not unworthy, when people share those things with me. You have to consider it an honor that someone trusts you enough to share that with you.
It’s hard for them to imagine why somebody is yelling at them when the protesters don’t understand their life or know their story.
Male companions of patients sometimes try to talk to protesters and say, “You don’t understand.” If they want to do that, we stand back. It’s not our job as an escort to tell them they’re not allowed to talk or that it’s going to be a fruitless conversation.
For example, if a patient is going to die without an abortion for health reasons, the antis outside our clinic would rather you die than have an abortion. Your life is very inconsequential to them.
Their personal philosophy is that you should feel lucky to give up your life for the potential of life. That’s how they see women’s bodies. It’s very black and white for them. Abortion is murder to them, and there is no middle ground.
‘I never imagined the clinic would reopen’
There’s one thing I will never forget from the day Roe v. Wade was overturned. We had been waiting for the decision every day after the Supreme Court’s draft opinion was leaked on May 2, 2022. I was at the clinic, and one woman was leaving.
She was very upset because she had learned when she got there that she could no longer have her appointment. One of our antis was following her and said, “Congratulations, now you get to be a mother.”
That was probably the angriest I have ever been. It was such a microcosm of the cruelty at the heart of the decision.
But I was also struck by how befuddled the antis seemed. There was not a sense of joy or victory. There was a sense of confusion—what do I do now?
At the end of the shift, the clinic staff came out, and we had escorts in two lines and did a standing ovation for the staff that was very emotional.
We had to stop abortions immediately because in Wisconsin, an 1849 total abortion ban took effect again.
At that time, I never imagined the clinic would reopen or that I would see many of the staff again on a weekly basis. I am incredibly grateful that we were able to reopen in late 2023.
Our clinic moved about a year ago, and now we have a parking lot, which has made the situation much easier. Patients can pull into our parking lot—which protesters cannot enter because it is private property—so escorts walk patients in from their cars.
I tell new escorts to approach a car slowly. Sometimes people arrive early and want to sit and take a breath. Sometimes they have children with them and are getting situated.
I advise them not to go up to someone’s door and wait or stare at them. That’s abrasive. I say give people space, and then as they walk into the clinic, stand between them and the people shouting on the sidewalk to act as a physical sound barrier.
‘It’s not normal to be yelled at for hours’
What’s kept me coming back to this work is the other clinic escorts, who are all passionate about reproductive rights. You make incredible friends and build strong bonds when you spend so much time together.
I advise other escorts, especially new people, to practice self-care after a shift. It’s not normal to be yelled at for hours. We get called “harlots,” “Jezebels,” and “sinners,” so I encourage decompression time.
Some days are really hard, especially if a patient has broken down or if there is an interaction with the antis that is especially hostile.
Everybody has their own post-clinic ritual for self-centering. I usually come home and do some baking.
My husband has been a great help. He used to be very stressed about me being a clinic escort, but I’ve always been very headstrong, so he knew he had to get with the program. He knew how passionate I was about abortion.
He’s less concerned now because he is close friends with many people we’ve met through escorting, and he knows they are there.
I think the protesters believe we escorts have very sad lives. But I get to go home to a happy, loving place and a freshly cooked meal with my husband and two dogs.
Knowing that always brings a smile to my face.
