Jawole Willa Jo Zollar's Womb Wars: Embodying Her Critical Response to Abortion Politics

Extract

On a table placed in the center of the stage squats a woman dressed in a rust-colored dress. The focus of the lighting on her, which keeps the rest of the performance space darkened, underscores her presence in isolation. Her arms are stretched out in front, parallel to each other, reaching to no one. The palms are rigid, the separated fingers are taut with tension. Her voice reaches out in a deep undertone, the mouth opens wide to enunciate each word by itself, reinforcing the strange disconnectedness between the relaxation of her lower back and pelvis, and the tension of her upper body, the emphasized separation between her fingers. Her eyebrows are raised, furrowing multiple lines of puzzled anguish across her forehead. Almost motionless, her eyes wide open and unflickering in the trembling light of the candle that is placed in front of her on the table, she speaks in near-choked baritones:

I go down to the river to cleanse myself. I see the stranger dumping sewage in the river. The stranger, he see me. He beat me and rape me. I go to tell my father. He beat me too. I go to tell my mother. She stay silent. I go to tell the doctor. The doctor, he cut my insides out. Who gonna care 'bout the river? Who gonna care 'bout me?