facebook-pixel

Voices: A Planned Parenthood in rural Utah helped me when I was being abused. Its closure will be devastating.

This is not the loss of an abortion clinic, this is the loss of a community service that at-risk communities need the most.

(Bethany Baker | The Salt Lake Tribune) Planned Parenthood in Salt Lake City on Monday, Feb. 5, 2024.

Note to readers • This story discusses sexual assault. If you need to report or discuss a sexual assault, you can call the Utah Rape and Sexual Assault Crisis Line at 801-736-4356.

As I desperately tried to put on a brave face, my father pulled away from my dorm — my new home — and suddenly I was on my own. I remember being acutely aware of how small I felt, how unready I was to be four hours away from my entire life. I knew three people vaguely in the entirety of Cedar City, but they weren’t standing with me as the truck turned the corner and disappeared.

As terrified as I was, I was eager to start classes and begin pursuing my dream of being on the stage. I’d never been shy in theater — I found I could be my truest self when I became a character, when I was able to share stories that taught me about my own life. I had even earned a full scholarship to Southern Utah University.

But my normal college experience ended before it even started. Merely two weeks into my college career, I was sexually assaulted. The night of the assault, I wandered back to my dorm carrying my shoes, dazed, afraid and alone. I was 18, barely a breath away from my childhood and already meeting adulthood through pain.

I collapsed into myself for weeks. My abuser became someone I frequently saw on campus. He infected every aspect of my life, isolating me further from the small community I had been trying to build. My grades fell and no one knew how I, someone so full of promise, could let everything fall apart so quickly. Four hours from home in a small Cedar City dorm room, I ached for help but didn’t know where to start.

It was in a bathroom stall in the student union when I saw an advertisement for the Planned Parenthood clinic in St. George. The ad was simple, offering STD screenings and birth control options. Through the first semester of school, as the abuse continued, I was terrified of getting sick or getting pregnant. I snapped a picture of the address, went to the computer lab and printed myself directions to the clinic. (2010 doesn’t seem far away, but it’s a lifetime when it comes to technology.)

The next morning, I made the drive down to St. George alone. I cried the entire way there, shaking behind the wheel. I had tried to explain to my family that I was falling apart without telling them any details about what was happening to me, feeling like they wouldn’t believe me if I revealed the extent of the abuse. I feared they would blame me, shame me. I assumed the doctors would be the same, but I had nowhere else to turn.

That visit to Planned Parenthood saved my life. I was able to finally say those words out loud to someone: I was raped. The appointment was not full of shame or fear. It was gentle, loving and full of options and support. I left with the assurance that I was healthy and a supply of birth control to help keep me safe. More importantly, I had been able to experience and honor my own bodily autonomy. I got to make a choice about myself and my safety with the support of a trained team at Planned Parenthood.

The St. George Planned Parenthood clinic, as well as the Logan clinic, have now closed after the current administration froze a Title X grant. I saw the news, and suddenly I was transported back to my dorm room. I thought of the little girl I was, driving back to Cedar City from that St. George clinic, feeling hopeful for the first time in months.

I thought about the saddest fact of all: My story is not rare. According to RAINN, college-aged women are three times as likely to experience sexual violence. Another amazing statistic: About 1-in-5 college-aged female survivors received assistance from a victim services agency.

Without that trip to Planned Parenthood to give me hope, I wouldn’t be here. Beyond reproductive care, they helped me create an escape plan from my abuser. They gave me mental health resources, were there for me when I was abandoned by family and friends, and, above all, reminded me that I was in charge of my body and my health.

Cedar City, Logan and St. George are all college towns full of students just like I was — students who are far from home, scared, hurt and just as deserving of support. The loss of these clinics and their services in these communities is truly devastating.

This is not the loss of an abortion clinic, this is the loss of a community service that at-risk communities need the most. This is telling another young person they may have nowhere to turn. What could be less pro-life than that?

(Emma Phelps) Emma Phelps (she/her) is a Utah native, University of Utah graduate, digital marketer, writer and performer based in Salt Lake City.

Emma Phelps (she/her) is a Utah native, University of Utah graduate, digital marketer, writer and performer based in Salt Lake City. She is the proud owner of Hexxed Heels, a dance company dedicated to empowerment, bodily autonomy and community.

The Salt Lake Tribune is committed to creating a space where Utahns can share ideas, perspectives and solutions that move our state forward. We rely on your insight to do this. Find out how to share your opinion here, and email us at voices@sltrib.com.