Why I Game-a-Thon

I’m writing this in between posting pictures of my cat on Instagram. This might be a normal activity for me, but at this time of year, these pictures serve a purpose. They’re a personal, public thank-you to some high-dollar donors to my Game-a-Thon efforts.

This is my eighth Game-a-Thon with the DC Abortion Fund. Gather ’round, kids, as I tell you a tale of the time when we did actually bowl in D.C. like the rest of the country!

I joke about my age and history with DCAF. But this year I’m more serious than ever before about our efforts to raise at least $80,000 for the thousands of people who will call our helpline this year. As a case manager, I’ve had the privilege and frustrating honor to talk with many of them. They are the reason I push harder to raise more money every year.

The people who call our helpline are smart. They’re resourceful. They’re often frustrated, because it’s HARD to navigate finding a clinic and raising hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars for health care that is often not covered by insurance or Medicaid, and then to have to call strangers to ask for more help. Sometimes they’re mad. I’m mad too. It’s not fair that laws restricting abortion access target mostly low-income women and women of color. Sometimes they’re scared: Of protestors, of abusive partners, of the way their friends and family might react if they knew their loved one needed an abortion. Sometimes they’re sad, and I’m sad too: They may be calling to end a wanted pregnancy. They’re sometimes moms, and sometimes not. Sometimes I don’t talk to the patient, but I talk to their mom, or their partner, or their sister. Sometimes the patient is all alone.

While every call is different, they all end the same way: With relief. Yes, we can help. Yes, DCAF can help you pay for your abortion, and we can help you find other resources, too. Yes, this is one less thing you have to worry about. Our pledge is waiting for you at the clinic.

I don’t pretend to believe that we’re changing lives here. The patients who call DCAF are mostly very low-income, with families, often without jobs. None of that changes when we get off the phone. But we were able to make this one thing a little easier. To me, that’s everything. As a case manager, I can help, just a little bit. But I can’t do that without your help.

If you haven’t signed up for Game-a-Thon, I encourage you to do so. Our all-volunteer team makes it easy, with a toolkit that takes all the heavy lifting out of fundraising. If you can’t sign up, I encourage you to donate to one of our intrepid gamers. You can look for your friends to donate to them directly, or maybe you’d like to help someone who’s just getting started. Or maybe at the beginning of this blog post, you thought “I would like a picture of a cat as a thank you.” You can donate to me, then, too.

No matter how you give, please know that every dollar donated furthers our mission to help everyone access the care they need and deserve. You can be the one who makes things just a little bit better.

That’s huge. That’s everything. Thank you.

By volunteer Lindsey W.


As a young woman, I was always pretty secure in my pro-choice and feminist values. But before becoming involved in the DC Abortion Fund as a case manager, the debate over abortion rights felt a bit abstract—despite the fact that 1 in 4 women get an abortion in her lifetime.

State legislatures are racing to make it harder to access our constitutional right to abortion, and women continue to bear the brunt of the financial and emotional aspects of abortion. I’ve found abortion is still an uncomfortable discussion topic—even with those closest to us.

Because it’s an uncomfortable discussion to bridge with friends and loved ones, DCAF case managers can really be lifelines. Some women who call in haven’t told anyone else, or very few people. There’s such a persistent sense of shame—you can’t talk about socially it in the way you talk about other procedures like getting your tonsils taken out or a root canal. Instead, it can be an incredibly scary and hard topic to broach.

What I like about being a case manager is that I’m helping with the logistics. Women come to DCAF after making the decision to get an abortion, for a wide variety of reasons. We don’t ask about that. We aren’t here to be emotional counsel. We are tasked with putting together the puzzle pieces of funding. We’re there to talk through it with patients, and to assure them we can help find a way to pay for it. We’re in it together—we’re with them.

That said, you can’t truly separate the financial case manager work from emotions. It’s really compassionate work. And it’s not always easy. While we’re super lucky to have amazing donors to so many different abortion funds, including DCAF, navigating everything is often exhausting for patients and is an added stress. Sometimes patients are sick and tired of making calls to different organizations, to the clinic—and receiving calls back when they’re at work, at a restaurant, or with family. I understand how hard it would be to keep fielding calls about your abortion and to be constantly reminded of it and the barriers involved.

Before case managing, I didn’t know that it could cost between a few hundred dollars (first trimester) to upwards of $10,000 (third trimester). Some women have to trek across their state, or across state lines to have the procedure. We want to be sure that all women can pay for their abortion.

Why I DCAF comes down to two things:

  1. Abortion is health care. Everyone has a right to health care, and when someone needs a procedure, we should do everything we can to make sure they can get it.
  2. As a case manager, we can help navigate the logistics so that our patients aren’t set back too far financially from an unexpected pregnancy—something that is no one’s fault. DCAF and other funds continue to change lives because they make sure no one is punished financially or emotionally. If getting the procedure comes down to a difference of fifty, a few hundred, a few thousand dollars, the very least I can do is help solve the puzzle.

By volunteer Annie W.

How Bans Affect Patients with Disabilities

disability_justice_repealhydeThis week marks the 40th anniversary of the Hyde Amendment, which bars Medicaid recipients from using their benefits to pay for abortion care in many states. Our volunteers are sharing the stories of why our work is vital in the face of these restrictions. Today, case manager Meredith N. talks about how laws restricting abortion access disproportionately affect people with disabilities.

It’s that time of year where we wish the Hyde Amendment a happy unbirthday and continue to fight the good fight to end the ban(s) on abortion coverage. However, it is discouraging to see so many reproductive justice activists neglect to mention that people with disabilities are disproportionately impacted by the Hyde Amendment as well. The reality is that people with disabilities are more likely to be poor as well as rely on state insurance programs such as Medicaid and Medicare to meet our health care needs. I currently live in Maryland which both expanded Medicaid and is one of the 15 states where Medicaid covers abortion care.  Unfortunately, the lack of transparency surrounding how to access this benefit means that few are aware it does not apply to the Aged, Blind or Disabled Medicaid that SSI beneficiaries receive (perhaps because there is the false assumption we do not need it). In turn, repealing Hyde is a disability justice issue as well. At the same time, a world without Hyde means little as long as our society continues to look upon disabled sexuality with fear and disgust. A world with reproductive justice would affirm the diversity of body/minds in the world by recognizing that we, too, deserve full spectrum reproductive health care.

As a result, I DCAF because disabled people need abortion access, too. Neglecting to consider this hurts multiply marginalized disabled people the most. I DCAF because the seemingly insurmountable financial barriers to an abortion are compounded when you are turned away from clinics because you are considered a high risk patient, your accessibility needs cannot be met, or you must go without lifesaving medication in order to come up with gas money. I DCAF because too many people with disabilities remain isolated by an ableist world and I want to be a lifeline whom anyone facing an unplanned pregnancy can call when they have no one else to turn to. I DCAF because everyone deserves access to safe, accessible abortion care regardless of how much cash they have, regardless of whether or not society believes they “should be” having sex or not, regardless of whether or not they are “productive” enough, and whether or not their necessary accommodations are “reasonable” enough.

Nonetheless, abortion funds and other reproductive justice groups shouldn’t wait until Hyde is repealed to commit to this anti-ableism work! As someone who has funded abortions both locally and nationally, it is all too apparent that abortion funds are working with many disabled callers — regardless of whether or not these callers identify as such — but are poorly equipped to recognize our needs, much less accommodate them. I encourage you to consider how you can better incorporate dis/ability into your intersectional frameworks: whether that’s eliminating ableist language such as “crazy” or “lame” from your fund’s vocabulary or taking more extensive steps of disability solidarity.

by volunteer Meredith N. 

She Handles the Financials: An Interview with DCAF’s Treasurer

IMG_5319How long have you worked with DCAF?
I’ve been volunteering for DCAF for about four-and-a-half years. I was a case manager for a few years, then joined the board.
How did you discover DCAF? What inspired you to get involved?
A friend of mine, Amber, asked me to join her bowl-a-thon team. After the event DCAF sent out a email call for new case managers and after attending a training I was hooked!
Describe a typical day of work as the treasurer.
I spend a good amount of time paying our clinics, processing donations, communicating with donors, and keeping all of our financial parts moving.
What’s your favorite part of the job?
I love paying our clinics. They’re such an integral part of making choice and access a reality. Additionally, because I don’t have much time to case manage any more this helps me feel connected to our patients and our role in reproductive rights.
Is there a woman you aspire to be like? Why?
Gloria Steinem. Her monumental work for women, her vocal support of abortion and the role it played in her success, and that fantastic hair.
What do you do for work, as your day job?
I work in accounting at a nonprofit in DC — big surprise!
What do you do when you’re not working?
I foster kitties and love trying new restaurants.
Do you have any tips for self-care when handling a particularly difficult day?
For either case managing or a day when all the deadlines are converging at once I find that it’s so helpful to take a bath! I like to break out those Epsom salts and a good book and relax.
What is the most difficult part of your job?
The hardest part of doing the DCAF books is something all people who work in accounting can resonate with — closing the books at the end of the fiscal year and getting the necessary items over to the IRS. It’s a long process that has no concern for the other day to day things that must be done.
Interview by volunteer Lilli K.  

Why I DCAF: New Volunteer Bee

One of the greatest things you can do is to recognize your privilege. Probably like most young people my age who are the children of the sexual revolution, I have had more than one “pregnancy scare” since I started having sex. However, as a college graduate with a full time job, health insurance, and proximity to more than one reproductive health clinic, the thought of being pregnant wasn’t as life-halting as it can be for a lot of people. The last time I thought I might be pregnant (pre-IUD), I looked into the costs and availability of obtaining an abortion, realized it would be something I could manage, and felt somehow more in control of the situation.

I know, however, not everyone has the same resources that I do. The truth is that the abortion access is qualified by economic eligibility and that pregnant people without the means to travel to or afford services from an abortion provider are forced to remain pregnant or worse, seek other (read: less safe) options. The fact that people have to put their lives in danger because they can’t afford the medical services they need should make you as livid as it makes me.

The average cost of raising a child born in 2013 up until age 18 for a middle-income family in the U.S. is approximately $245,340. The backward logic that a pregnant person without the means to afford an abortion will be able to afford the cost of raising a child reinforces the wage disparity problems we have in the U.S. today. Even beyond the ability to afford to raise a child, the ability to decide if a low-income pregnant person would like to be a parent is removed when economic barriers to abortion are enforced.

I DCAF because we believe that an individual is the decision-maker of their life and should not be denied one’s reproductive rights because of politicized barriers. I wanted to belong to a nation-wide network of people who believed in the same things that I do, and who would work every day to connect people with the resources that they need.

By volunteer Bee W. 

Why we DCAF

You probably know that DCAF is staffed by a team of dedicated volunteers, dozens of people who spend their free time, often hours and hours every week, assisting women and girls who need abortions in getting the emotional and financial support they need. You know DCAF raises thousands of dollars every year to help women in the District, Maryland and Virginia afford abortions they need. What you may not know is why these volunteers work tirelessly for the organization and the women it serves.

I can tell you what brought me to DCAF. I could go into the years I’ve spent volunteering with other women’s organizations, or the weeklong series about domestic violence that I coordinated as a Michigan newspaper editor. I could tell you about how I’ve supported friends who have chosen abortion, and those who have considered it but opted against it. But what I think it boils down to is this: I believe in women, and I believe we don’t have enough support, resources and/or advocates in our corner, especially when it comes to our health and bodies.

I know women who are so grateful they were able to have an abortion when they needed one, and I’ve met women who wish they could have gotten an abortion, but didn’t. Women deserve options and resources, and I want to help provide that.

Now, I am no medical professional. I couldn’t be trusted with a stethoscope. My networking and fundraising skills are pitiful at best. My phone voice is hopelessly nasal, Midwest and filled with “ums” and “likes.” But get me behind a keyboard or a pen, and I’m completely comfortable. This is where I can fill in—maybe even shine.

There’s an episode of Sports Night in which Sam describes the birth of television. Philo Farnsworth, the guy who invented the TV, was explaining his invention to his brother-in-law, a glassblower. Philo’s brother-in-law told him, “I don’t have your head for science, but it sounds like you’ll need glass tubes for this. I can make those for you.” That’s what I have to offer—I can make glass tubes.

Expect to read more about the lives DCAF touches—from caseworkers to fundraisers, board members to community members—in the future. From the collective voice of DCAF volunteers and benefactors, there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of stories that explain, again and again, why we’re here.

The work DCAF does is so important, so crucial for the women of DMV. Hundreds of women who otherwise could not have afforded abortions were able to get them because of the work we do. These women are mothers, daughters, students, workers, young and “of a certain age.” They are women you know. For me, it’s not a question of “should we get involved,” but “how can we not?”