It was difficult not to think about reproductive rights across the last few days. Besides the looming Supreme Court decisions or Texas laws, there was the NYT featuring two films about abortion and the Jane Collective over the weekend. Among others, they interviewed Judith Arcana, a member of the Janes, a group based in Chicago providing help with abortions before it was legal. I had portrayed her when she participated in our own documentary, Our Bodies our Doctors, some years back.
Two minutes later, an invitation arrived from the National Council of Jewish Women to join in the upcoming ReproShabbat (1/28/2022), celebrating the critical importance of reproductive health access, reproductive rights, and reproductive justice, and to learn more about Judaism’s approach to these issues.
And then I chanced on an article in The Nation featuring Portland’s Queen of the Bolsheviks, a lesbian medical doctor and reproductive rights activist in the early 1900s. Hah! Instead of complaining about the miseries of 2022 I could write about a fighter, Marie Equi, a colorful figure and tireless organizer, defying the laws of her (and, as it looks, soon our) times as an abortion provider. Besides, it gave me opportunity to walk the city and photograph the places where she had lived, practiced and is buried (with a bit of other city scenery thrown in. Of help was a nifty if dated walking tour guide to PDX’s gay history.)
How can you not be intrigued by a woman who used a whip on a wage-withholding employer of her girlfriend, only to have friends auction the thing off when he fails to pay and take that money in compensation? A woman who was one of the first medical doctors in the U.S. and pioneered a sliding scale of payments for her patients according to their ability to pay? A woman who traveled to San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake to help victims? Who was arrested multiple times as a labor organizer, a pacifist and a political opponent, spending hard prison time in San Quentin State Prison?
Dr. Marie Equi was a firebrand, born in New Bedford, MA in 1872 and died in Portland in 1952.
She moved to The Dalles in 1893, then San Francisco, then to Portland, having relationships with a number of different women, all interesting and progressively fighting for women’s empowerment in their own right, among them likely Margaret Sanger. She lived and co-parented an adopted daughter for many years with Harriet Speckart, the niece of Olympia Brewing Company founder Leo Schmidt, who did not abandon the relationship despite various threats by her family to revoke her inheritance.
I learned much from an article on reproductive justice published by the Oregon Historical Society and written by Oregonian historian, Michael Helquist. He also wrote a biography of Equi’s life, published by OHSU press, Marie Equi – Radical Politics and Outlaw Passions. It reminded me how so much of the abortion laws had their origin in turf wars – the male medical profession trying to dislodge the traditionally female providers like midwives and nurses from gynecological care around the turn of the century, and the White, Christian population fearing minority status with an influx of immigrants. It became a fight for White babies to be born.
Equi fought – for suffrage (Oregon instituted the right to vote for women in 1912, eventually,) for labor rights, for birth control. She got into physical altercations with the police or other doctors, and was claimed to have had enough insider knowledge to blackmail people so that she got off on several trials. Eventually she got caught. It was a speech protesting WW I which had her convicted of sedition and put into prison, where she suffered from recurring bouts of tuberculosis.
President Woodrow Wilson commuted her sentence after a year and she returned home to Portland.
The years after her return were devoted to her medical practice and a life with IWW leader Elizabeth Gurley Flynn until the latter returned to the East Cost. Equi suffered a heart attack in 1930 and sold her practice. In 1950 she fell so badly that she had to spend a year at Good Sam, the local hospital, and then retire to a nursing home in Gresham, a suburb of Portland. She died in 1952 and is buried next to Harriet Speckart at Wilhelm’s Portland Memorial. (Photograph is the backside of the Mausoleum.)
The woman probably never moped once in her life – engaged in intersecting political movements for women’s rights, free speech and pacifism, while juggling lovers, dealing with the competition and providing hands-on help for countless patients. Remind me of her when next my kvetching gets onto your nerves, I might stop… also, unicorns.
Equi would have liked this song.
Or this one from almost 30 years ago.
And of course the eternal Malvina Reynolds…
