That evening, Wilkinson and I sit in a bubble tea shop in Koreatown, where I run her through a litany of questions I was pretty sure I already knew her answers to. Does she want the government to defund Planned Parenthood? Yes. "It's not about taking away money for women's health care. It's about redirecting it." Does she support the use of contraception? No. To the pro-abortion-rights view, this stance on birth control seems counterintuitive, to say the least. Considering the vast majority of unwanted pregnancies it actually prevents, one would think the Pill would be an anti-abortion advocate's best asset (says Wilkinson, "It would appear that way, right?"). But again, it's not entirely surprising if you see a fertilized egg and an adult person as 100% equal. Wilkinson explains her take, first by pointing out that one of the ways many hormonal birth control pills work is by thinning the lining of the uterus so that even if — by very slim chance — an egg is fertilized, it will be less capable of attaching to the uterine wall. "So, from a consistently pro-life perspective, once fertilization has taken place, if you intentionally prevent that life from attaching to the wall of the uterus, then that is causing a very early abortion." As for non-hormonal contraception — condoms, IUDs, etc. — she's also against it, believing, as many anti-abortion proponents do, that birth control creates a false sense of security, thereby leading to a greater likelihood of unwanted pregnancy. "The next step," she concludes, "is abortion." The only birth control Wilkinson advocates is fertility awareness — tracking your body's ovulation cycle in order to calculate when you're able to get pregnant. And, to be clear, that's just for married couples. She supports abstinence for single people (though she offers "no comment" on her own sexual status). Finally, I come to the hardest question. So many times that day, Wilkinson had surprised me, revealing herself to be considerate, relatable, and far from a stereotype. I really, really wanted to be surprised again. "Do you believe there are any exceptions in which abortion is allowable? If it's a child who's pregnant, in cases of rape, or when pregnancy threatens the life of the woman?" Wilkinson nods. "The usual: rape, incest, life of the mother," she adds, finishing the sentence for me. And, for each, she has an answer. Abortion is never necessary to save the life of a woman, she says. "There's never a medical condition that a woman would be in where, in order make her better, you need to give her an abortion. That just doesn't exist." From a practical perspective, this is patently untrue, given that pregnancy itself is not without risk even to healthy women, and certainly to those with preexisting conditions. In 2012, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists responded to this common anti-abortion argument, stating that "abortions are necessary in a number of circumstances to save the life of a woman or to preserve her health." Wilkinson agrees to disagree, adding that she'd love to read more about it if I can send her documentation of these alleged medical situations. But, for now, "I don't think that situation exists." And that's that. There is one exemption here, though she doesn't really count it as such. In cases of ectopic pregnancy (where the fetus attaches outside the uterus, typically in the fallopian tube), Wilkinson believes it's okay to end the pregnancy — indirectly. These pregnancies aren't viable, and if they're not terminated they will eventually end in a rupture that could seriously injure or kill the pregnant woman. Though there are less invasive ways to terminate — using medication to induce abortion, primarily — one method is to surgically remove the section of the fallopian tube where the fetus is attached. That procedure alone is acceptable, she says, because "you're not going in there with the intent to destroy the life of the baby. It's a secondary effect." From a practical perspective, the overall purpose is the same, and to an outsider may seem like extreme hair-splitting. But Wilkinson says it's an important difference. "With the drug, the intent is ending the life of the baby. So I see it differently from a philosophical standpoint." On to the next exception: survivors of rape. Wilkinson turns somber, holding her eyes firmly on mine. Because of her work, she is familiar with rape in ways that many of us are not. She's watched friends go through with pregnancies after sexual assault, and she has peers who were themselves conceived in rape. It's worth noting this context, for her ultimate answer is not a casual brush-off but the one she truly believes is the most sympathetic. "Something that people misunderstand about the pro-life movement all the time is they think we don't care about women and they think we don't care about women who have been raped. And that's so not the case. Rape is one of the most horrible things I know of, and we have a huge problem with rape in our country, obviously." She goes on, expounding on the injustices of rape in the U.S. "We want to provide that woman with resources and compassion and to help her heal and to get justice for her, absolutely." She pauses. "But I don't think that the abortion does that for her." In fact, believing as she does that abortion is an act of terrible violence, Wilkinson says, "I would see it as adding more trauma to the trauma she's already experienced." Furthermore, "now there's another victim." She launches into an impassioned monologue about how she sees the psychological effects of rape and abortion as "almost identical," adding that "in many cases, abortion is used to cover up rape…or incest" and how, in fact, she thinks abortion benefits only the rapist because it "covers up his crime." It's clear she has a lot to say on this topic, but still, I'm pretty sure I haven't heard a direct answer. "So, just to clarify, your answer in that scenario is 'no,' right?" "Yeah. That'd be my answer. And, I'm sorry, what was the other one?" "Children." "Yes, um. Again, super-difficult circumstance. And I'm not…I don't think any person who's against abortion would deny that pregnancy can bring about some really difficult, complicated circumstances." I felt my eyebrows inch up involuntarily, and willed her not to say it. "Um, but again," she said, "I don't think that to inflict that on that girl is a good thing." Wilkinson continued in a sober tone: "To ask her to go through something as traumatic as an abortion and to be left with those effects, especially from such a young age, that's not fair to her. And again I think that when someone is pregnant then we have to look at the whole situation — at both people involved. So we have the girl, and we have the child. How can we care for both of them? How can we treat her medically? So that if she needs to be on bed rest or she needs to have a c-section or whatever it is, to be able to safely take care of both patients." "Okay. So the answer to that one is also 'no.'" "That's correct." Wilkinson claims to be fighting for a world where "abortion is unthinkable" — a vision so idyllic it goes beyond humanity. If I could muster up the radical compassion with which Wilkinson approaches her own opponents, I'd say she's fighting for the utopia I'd imagined earlier that day, where no pregnancy is unwanted or unsafe. But, no matter what she's fighting for, she's leaving raped and pregnant children among the casualties. In that moment, I felt my own assuredness return more firmly than before. The voice of today's anti-abortion movement is often one like Wilkinson's. It doesn't scream or hurl barbaric insults. It asks and pauses, waiting politely for your thoughts. The greatest mistake the pro-abortion-rights side could make would be not to answer — to resign this movement as one controlled by politicians and extremists. True, they are the most visible leaders, making the headlines and signing the measures into law. But here on the ground, there are people like Wilkinson, working on hearts and minds, and not through demands but questions. Uncomfortable though it may be, we should all find answers to those queries, and soon. Conversations like this are what turn belief into conviction, forcing you to look at what you hold to be true, and why. As Wilkinson said, there is common ground between us, and that's where the battle is being fought. If you don't show up, then the other side has already won.