Abortions are simply not talked about enough today outside of political contexts.
When it comes to young adults who actually go through these experiences, the narratives are scarce and often negative. We know that Ontario offers abortion services, and we know that young adults are utilizing them. In Ontario alone, there were around 40 thousand abortions in 2022, with the majority of patients being between the ages of 18 and 29. Many of these young adults are students like you and me, so why aren’t we hearing about what’s happening behind closed doors?
There’s a lot of stigma surrounding terminating pregnancies, especially in environments like universities where hookup culture is prevalent. Even in a pro-choice, liberal community, shame runs deep and incites women to not speak about their abortions. Because of this lack of representation, shame and stigma only grow. This creates a viscous cycle where silence perpetuates shame, and shame perpetuates silence.
No one wants to say they got an abortion because no one else has said it before.
A friend was telling me a story about moving into her student house in second year. Her neighbour was constantly joking with his housemates about a girl he had been involved with the year before. When my friend asked why, she had learned it was because the girl had gotten pregnant and had an abortion.
They were not making fun of him, they were making fun of her.
The nicknames that would’ve been placed on her would look more like “sl—t.” The shame was on her because she got pregnant and she made the choice to abort it, completely disregarding it takes two people to get to that point.
She no longer goes to Queen’s because her abortion was viewed as a “hot scandal,” and she was essentially pushed out by the culture of shame and gossip that surrounded her decision. Abortions aren’t something that need to be kept secret, but women aren’t able to talk about it when it’s viewed as something shameful, promiscuous, and frankly, sl—tty.
As part of the ongoing effort to destigmatize sex, hookup culture has become more normalized, especially among young adults and university students. At Queen’s, many students have participated in some form of casual hookup—whether it’s someone they meet on Tinder, going home with someone from the Ale House, or someone they met through a friend. It’s become part of the norm to have one-night stands and just hope you didn’t contract a sexually transmitted infection (STI) or get pregnant.
In the last four years I’ve attended Queen’s, I’ve noticed students are more willing to talk about their brief run in with chlamydia than their trip to the abortion clinic, even though both are natural consequences of their actions. They’re both a product of the same action but there’s less stigma holding them back from talking about their time in student wellness.
Destigmatizing casual sex isn’t sustainable without working on destigmatizing its effects, including abortions. The reluctance to talk about abortion is a product of deep-rooted cultural norms that equate abortion with failure or irresponsibility. This misconception is damaging and, quite frankly, harmful to those who face an unplanned pregnancy.
Making abortions accessible isn’t enough, we need to actively end the stigma around women’s health on campus. What is needed at Queen’s, and on a larger scale on university campuses, is representation of positive and casual abortion.
Casual abortion doesn’t mean without thought or significance, it means discussing it without political baggage and in scenarios that students can relate to and see themselves in. The consequences of stigmatized abortions can be serious, leading to long-lasting distress, isolation, or depression. According to a Science Diet Study, the first year after having an abortion leads to both positive and negative emotions, intensified by navigating abortion stigma.
Having just one person speak openly about their abortion with their peers will have an impact on every woman in that conversation. It will fill them with confidence and comfort, knowing that if they were in that position, they wouldn’t be alone.
Imagine a campus where conversations about abortion are as common and normalized as those about any other healthcare decision. This isn’t to say that abortions aren’t a serious decision or to condone irresponsible behaviour. The point of destigmatization is to break down the misconceptions that portray those who get abortions as doing something morally “wrong.”
Providing resources is important, but actually having people to talk to who have gone through this experience safely can help someone make a more informed decision and feel safer and more comfortable about what they are doing. It’s important to have these open conversations and encourage people to make this medical decision based on their own circumstances and situations, without judgement or fear.
This line of thinking mistakenly assumes that secrecy and shame prevent abortions: the more open and accessible abortions are, the more likely people are to seek them in a safe and timely manner, rather than resorting to unsafe methods. A ive environment where students feel safe to talk about their options could prevent a lot of unnecessary emotional trauma and potential health risks.
The reluctance to speak openly about abortion also ties into broader issues of women’s health and bodily autonomy. Women’s health often takes a back seat in discussions about healthcare, and abortion, in particular, is treated as a “special case” rather than as part of regular healthcare services. When we isolate abortion as a topic that is too controversial or too sensitive to discuss, we inadvertently reinforce the idea that it is something shameful or taboo.
Ultimately, normalizing casual abortion isn’t about diminishing its significance—it’s about treating it with the same respect and neutrality we afford other healthcare decisions. Each time we choose to talk openly about abortion—without shame, without secrecy, and without stigma—we are challenging the cultural norms that have kept this topic in the shadows for too long.
As students, educators, healthcare providers, and allies, we all have a role to play in changing the narrative around abortion. We need to speak up, share our stories, and create spaces where conversations about abortion are not taboo but are seen as an essential part of discussing our health, our bodies, and our choices.
It’s time to bring the conversation out of the shadows and into the light. Let’s start talking about abortion as casually as we would any other healthcare decision. By doing so, we empower each other, reduce stigma, and build a more inclusive, ive, and understanding community.
If we can openly discuss contraception, sexual health, and mental health without shame, then we should be able to talk about abortion with the same candour. The time for whispered conversation is over. It’s time for change.
Sabrina is a fourth-year English Literature student
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