In my South Asian culture, being a single mum or having multiple ‘baby daddys’ is taboo – but sadly so is abortion Aarthi, 32, on the cultural backlash she faced trying to access abortion as a BAME woman – and what that experience cost her

Abortion has long been considered a taboo, particularly in conservative religious states where arguments of morality and the right to life of an unborn foetus often outstrip the right of women to choose what happens to their own bodies. Recently, restrictive anti-abortion laws passed in southern US states have catapulted the issue back into the mainstream media – as has a recent vote in the House of Commons to legalise abortion in Northern Ireland. Even so, discussions around abortion often exclude the experiences of women from black, Asian and minority ethnic (BAME) communities. Women from these communities can face additional layers of cultural stigma: a wall of silence around discussing anything of a sexual nature, medical or not, prevents many from accessing the options available to them. Moreover, the lack of willingness to talk about abortion for fear of judgement from their families and communities means women who do choose to have a termination can feel uniquely alone in their reality. Here, i talks to Aarthi, a 32-year-old make-up artist from Redbridge who culturally and racially identifies as South Asian, about her experience. i's opinion newsletter: talking points from today Email address is invalid Email address is invalid Thank you for subscribing! Sorry, there was a problem with your subscription.

I come from a Sri Lankan family, and my parents were fairly conservative about boys when I was younger. They didn’t understand the concept of dating, and I was always told to study and to not get involved with them.

Boys, to them, were something that came after university and getting a job. This was their ideal: I’d meet a boy after getting a job, he will be the one for life, and I would get married to him soon after.

My parents owned a shop, and one day when I was helping out, I met Michael* who lived around the corner. I had just turned 20 and he asked for my number. He was of Caribbean descent, four years older than me, and worked as a recruitment consultant.

There is a lot of anti-blackness in the Asian community, so although a South Asian boyfriend wouldn’t have been ideal, all hell would break loose if I had a black boyfriend. It’s completely against whatever unwritten rules there are in the community.

It’s the same if, say, you’re Hindu as my family is, and you date a Muslim guy (and vice versa, I’d imagine). We’re told that we are supposed to stick to our own because of culture and language barriers.

Michael and I were together for about four years on and off. Two years into our relationship, I fell pregnant.

‘It would have tied me to him for life’

At the time it felt like I had my usual symptoms of my period starting, but the symptoms were more intense than normal. I had sore, swollen breasts, sensitive nipples, mood swings and bloating. It didn’t cross my mind that it could be pregnancy until two weeks later, when I started to get discharge with blood spots. It frightened me. Frantic, I called Michael right away and told him what had happened but he was infuriatingly relaxed about it.

He told me he was busy that week and that we should do a pregnancy test at the weekend. I was in disbelief that he was going to make me wait for five days before doing the test together. He asked me what I thought I would do if I was pregnant, and I said I’d get an abortion. He was shocked and pushed back, asking why I didn’t want to discuss keeping it.

My response was that I had just left university and didn’t know what I was doing with my life. Plus, our relationship had ups and downs. Sometimes he stood me up on dates, and he wasn’t really interested in meeting my friends. If I was unhappy about something, he would just dismiss it as me “whinging”.

I knew having a child would change my life, and I knew deep down he wasn’t the right guy for me. Having a baby with him would tie me to him for life. It would have also put my parents through a lot, and it wasn’t worth it for someone I knew wasn’t “the one”.

‘There was a lot of emotional blackmail’

In my South Asian culture, being a single mum or having multiple “baby daddys” is just unheard of and very much a taboo. There’s a template we are all supposed to follow: marry one guy and have his babies only. If he dies or you divorce, you tend to remain single and raise his kids.

I decided to take the test without him, and asked my best friend to be with me. It came up positive and I made an appointment with my GP that same day to discuss termination options.

“I felt desperate and anxious about the termination. I was scared about how I’d feel after it was done.”

I remember when I saw the GP, I felt nervous to even tell her why I was there. I just blurted it out, “I’m pregnant,” and she replied, “Congratulations.” I quietly said, “I don’t want to keep it,” and her face fell. She was Indian and even though she’s a medical professional, I felt a little judged at that moment.

She gave me a form to fill in and a number to call. I told Michael and he begged me to keep it. There was a lot of emotional blackmail, but I wasn’t having any of it.

I was overwhelmed with emotions and the pregnancy symptoms had kicked in. I was going to the loo a lot, bloating, and had a strange metallic taste in my mouth.

‘I was sad and alone’

I felt desperate and anxious about the termination. I was scared about how I’d feel after it was done. Would I regret it after? Would I be depressed? I definitely wanted it gone. Having the scan done just before the procedure felt weird. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion with your partner by your side, but I was sad and alone. I remember thinking that if I was older and in a happy relationship, I wouldn’t be here. I would be keeping it.

“Women from every race and culture should be aware of the options available to them if they do fall pregnant – including abortion”

At the time, I didn’t have friends who had experienced anything similar. I told my best friends who were so supportive and agreed it was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, they weren’t available to accompany me to the clinic, but they checked on me afterwards.

After that, things were never the same with Michael, and our relationship fizzled out.

‘South Asian ladies are not open to talking about abortion’

I know I made the right choice at the time. I’m single, I have a great freelance career and have property to my name – things I would’ve found much harder to work towards if I had been a single mum.

Knowing your options is important, as well as understanding you can make a choice that is judgement-free and right for you. But I feel South Asian ladies are not open to talking about abortion because it’s a sensitive topic and people can hold very negative opinions about it.

Some of us are paranoid that someone would gossip about our experience or judge us, and sometimes, it’s with good reason. But I also feel attitudes are changing, and my generation is more open to talking about this than women older than us.

This is so important because women from every race and culture should be aware of the options available to them if they do fall pregnant – including abortion. We undermine the power of a vital support network by keeping quiet. By talking about your own experience, you could be helping another woman or even educating her. Talking breaks stigma, and we should do it more.