Betty Dodson Tells the Story of her First Abortion in the 50s

“The operation had to move around like a floating crap game to keep the cops off their trail”

August 24, 1929 was Betty Dodson’s birthday. —My parents’ generation. She died on Halloween, 2020, just a couple weeks after we hung out, drawing and talking at her famous apartment on Madison Ave, the rain pouring down, Betty with her perfect nails, chain-smoking. She said 90 was the perfect age to take up cigarettes. Always a piece of wisdom with Betty Ann!

Betty was indeed my fairy godmommy, the mother from another planet. I’ve written about her often over the years, but today I want to share a story she wrote, about her first abortion. She would’ve loved this upcoming election, where for ONCE, women’s bodies and women’s ballots are going to turn this ship around.

Clockwise from top left: the day Betty made me get my hair cut, giving me a piece of her mind in her famous bathrobe, a flyer for one of her early hand-drawn masturbation workshops in her apartment, and laughing with Carol Queen, Shar Rednour, and Jackie Strano.

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The 1950s:

It was that August I visited family in Wichita, and I fell madly in love with Tommy, the boy next door, whom I'd known for years. In the fall Tommy moved to New York to study law and our summer affair continued hot and heavy.

Upon my girlfriend's advice, I used spermicidal jelly applied with a plunger before having sex, which worked until the night I ran out and we had sex anyway.

Although Tommy pulled out before he ejaculated, the "rabbit test" came back positive.

When I told him I was pregnant, he asked, "How do I know it's mine?"