A Small Gesture of Kindness

A story about an act of kindness I'll never forget and a thing I never think about.

Here’s a story about coffee and abortion. 

When I was 23, I took a pregnancy test in the lobby bathroom of a high-rise on New York City’s Upper West Side. I remember telling my boyfriend at the time and he had no reaction. I don’t think we ever spoke about it again. 

At the time, I worked at a coffee shop in Times Square. I told my boss about the test and being in the lobby and knowing what I wanted to do. I asked her if she could schedule me on a closing shift so I could get an abortion in the morning. She asked me if I wanted the whole day off, and I told her no—it was a medical abortion and I was told there’d be few side effects from the pills I’d be taking. A Saturday morning would be sufficient. I was put on the schedule for the Saturday closing shift and for the following Sunday. 

My boyfriend didn’t come with me to the clinic. After my appointment, as I walked back to our shared apartment, I called my boss and told her I didn’t think I would be able to go in after all. It was the first and only time I cried about the abortion, mostly because, as I left the clinic, I saw a room full of people waiting for their partners as they got their abortions. I was mad that my boyfriend didn’t come with me. She told me to take the entire weekend off. I got home and he was playing video games. I went to sleep.

I’m not here to justify to anyone why I got an abortion. I don’t regret it at all, and I have no desire to make some “abortion is hard and terrible” argument because mine wasn’t. It was relatively straightforward and easy to procure, and I believe everyone should have the access I did without having to tell a sob story. Abortion should be affordable and accessible for anyone who wants one. 

I don’t think about the abortion very often, but I do think about the moment of kindness from my boss. I quite literally wiped out my entire savings account to get the abortion, but she let me take the time I needed, and made sure that I was cared for. I can’t remember if she scheduled me for extra shifts later to make up for what I spent, or maybe paid for a few meals for me, but I do remember feeling like I was never actually going to drown because of her help. 

I share this story because I’m sure this exact same scenario has played out countless times in other coffee shops, restaurants, and service jobs with not-so-nice results. This formative moment came down to a small expression of empathy: one that I know almost everyone is capable of, and yet I’d guess many are unwilling to give. This was not hard for my boss to do. Filling in a few shifts probably caused her minimal stress. In hindsight, what she did was nothing earth-shattering, or particularly onerous—it was just enough to support me when I needed it. I doubt she even remembers it.

I often think about what would have happened if she had decided to blow this up instead: Would she have fired me? Would I have had to make a decision between my job and my bodily autonomy? I was lucky: I knew she’d be a safe haven for me—not because she said so explicitly, but because she always extended kindness. I knew I was safe telling her. But there are a hundred thousand scenarios I play out in my head where her reaction was cruel, or I had a different boss, or I was shamed for my choice, or I didn’t get a chance to make a choice.

On Monday, food writer Alicia Kennedy discussed how stripping us of our rights is part of the slow accumulation of power that marches on. “All of us reduced to consumers, a need to produce more consumers, every need and desire further privatized as privacy erodes.” It reminds me that everything is about control and power. I’m certain you’ve seen it said in other places, but if this anti-abortion crusade were really about children, we’d have universal health care and paid parental leave. If it were about states’ rights, many wouldn’t be as quick to enact “trigger laws,” especially when a majority of the country supports access to abortion. Sometimes I feel like I could just write, “It’s always about power” on every post in this newsletter, close the book, and be done. 

But there’s also power to be found in other areas. There are many existing strong and safe abortion networks, led by Black and Brown people, that can help folks find affordable access to abortions. And there’s power in the small, seemingly inconsequential gestures of allowing someone the freedom to tell you about their abortion, to reschedule a shift without asking any questions. 

Building support and power means not relying on virtue-signaling corporations who claim they will support their employees by providing funds for their abortion needs, but will actually use such policies as a tool to further subjugate workers to the whims of their employers. (Starbucks has already proved it will weaponize these kinds of “benefits” by proclaiming its intent to continue to provide gender-affirming healthcare—while noting that this could be taken away if branches continue to unionize.) There’s power to be found in people, even as the government and corporations continue to find every way they can to wrestle it away from us. 

The day Roe v. Wade was overturned by the Supreme Court, Chicago artist Ryan Duggan shared a graphic on Instagram saying, “I owe my life and career to Roe v. Wade.” That statement is absolutely true for me, but I also owe my life to that one boss and the simple gesture she chose to make. I can only hope, if you’re reading this, you’re willing to extend that same kindness to the people in your life. There’s power in recognizing the humanity of others, and the ramifications of small gestures can be felt for years to come. 

If this story impacted you at all, please donate to your local abortion fund or donate to fund and secure the livelihood of abortion clinics. Please be safe with your digital footprint; do not forget queer, nonbinary, and trans people in your language; center the needs of Black, Brown, Indigenous, immigrant, and poor people; do not let your support stop at charity and donations; and rely on the wisdom and advice of established workers and abortion advocates. You are absolutely a vector for change, and the help someone needs is often closer than you think.