Daniel Darling: Thinking about symbolic pro-life women to cover in a post-Dobbs world

For a half century, the national March for Life was held on or close to January 22nd, the date of the Roe v. Wade decision in 1973.

It was a logical date, one that no one really had to think about — no matter how fickle the winter weather in Washington, D.C. Organizers would hard, in particular, to pick a day convenient for the thousands of students — most of them girls and young women — who would arrive at the event in buses from Christian colleges and universities or vans from local churches.

Here’s a question for editors and reporters who are looking ahead: When will the march be next year? Maybe one more march linked to January 22nd, as a kind of memorial? Or will it move to June 24th, the now calendar-worthy date for the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision?

Whatever happens, journalists will need to start thinking about how to cover that event and the counter-protests that are sure to accompany it. I doubt that journalists will have trouble thinking of feature-worthy leaders to profile and interview on the abortion-rights side of things, starting with the vice president and, it would appear likely, the minority leader of the House of Representatives.

But who gets the nod among the March for Life allies? This leads me to a short, but useful, think piece that ran recently at USA Today (here’s a link to a Yahoo! News copy without a paywall) about the women — past and present — who worked the hardest to defeat Roe.

This op-ed was written by Southern Baptist scribe Daniel Darling, who journalists may remember as the National Religious Broadcasters spokesman who was sacked for writing a column (and going on MSNBC to promote it) about why, as an evangelical, to chose to get the COVID-19 vaccine shot (see this Richard Ostling post about this mini-media storm). Darling is now director of the Land Center for Cultural Engagement at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, in Fort Worth, Tex.

Far too often, writes Darling, journalists see abortion policy debates as “a binary choice between men who want to see abortion restricted and women who favor its access.”

Anyone who works on Capitol Hill or within a mile or two of Union Station in Washington, D.C., knows what happens on the day of the annual March for Life.

Lots and lots of folks roll into town. The streets are lined with buses packed with students — often the orange-yellow school buses used for short-range work. Then there are miles of rented buses that roll in from schools — middle schools, high schools and colleges — all over the Southeast, Northeast, Mid-Atlantic and even the Midwest.

It’s pretty easy to note that the vast majority of the buses are from Catholic institutions. It’s harder to judge the points of origin for groups that fly into D.C. to take part.

If you watch the march itself, you’ll see all kinds of unusual groups: Feminists for Life, Atheists for Life, Democrats for Life, the Pro-Life Alliance of Gays and Lesbians, etc. There are lots of evangelical Protestants present and their numbers have risen since the marches began in 1974. following Roe v. Wade.

But the vast majority of people who arrive early — especially for the annual Vigil for Life (first photo) at the National Basilica of the Immaculate Conception — and stay late are Roman Catholics. This is fitting since the march began with the work of a Catholic Democrat named Nellie Gray who, after Roe, left her work as a Labor Department lawyer to become an activist. The symbol of the march — a rose — is also a popular symbol for St. Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Why bring this up?

Well, have you heard that 81 percent of white evangelicals just love Donald Trump? It’s safe to assume that most readers have heard that, methinks.

Somehow, that often cited (but rather complex) fact led — according to the Politico — to Trump’s historic decision to address this year’s March for Life, as seen in this headline: “Trump tries to shore up evangelical support at March for Life rally.”

Never mind that the crucial states that gave Trump the presidency — especially in the Midwest — are heavily Catholic and usually (think Ohio) are won by the candidate who wins the Sunday-morning Catholic swing vote.