Women in America must be trusted to make their own medical

The words of Kirsten Gillibrand rise like a call from the ancient hearth of justice: “Women in America must be trusted to make their own medical decisions and have access to the full range of reproductive health care, including abortion.” These are not the utterances of rebellion, but of remembrance—remembrance of what freedom truly means. For freedom that does not include the sovereignty of one’s body is a hollow promise, a song sung by the powerful while the powerless remain bound. Her words, fierce and luminous, echo through the corridors of history where countless women have stood before the gates of authority and demanded what was always theirs: the right to choose, the right to decide, the right to live as complete beings.

In the days of old, the sages taught that to command one’s own body is the first act of liberty. In every age where tyranny has risen, it has begun by claiming ownership over the bodies of others—over their labor, their voice, their choices. The fight for women’s autonomy is therefore not new; it is the ancient struggle of the human spirit to assert its divine sovereignty. To trust women is to honor this sacred truth: that wisdom dwells not in councils of strangers, but in the conscience of the one who must bear the consequences of the decision.

Consider the story of Margaret Sanger, who in the early twentieth century defied the silence of her time. She witnessed women—poor, sick, and exhausted—brought to ruin by endless childbirths, denied even the knowledge to prevent them. For speaking of birth control, she was condemned and imprisoned. Yet she did not yield. From her defiance arose the movement for reproductive freedom, which spread like dawn across the land, transforming despair into dignity. Through her courage, and through the courage of those who followed, the doors of medical knowledge were opened to millions. Her struggle is the living ancestor of Gillibrand’s words: that choice is not sin but salvation, that to trust women is to trust the sanctity of life itself.

But see how the wheel of history turns. The battles once thought won return again, cloaked in new garments. The same voices that doubted women centuries ago now rise once more, proclaiming protection while imposing control. They speak of morality, yet forget compassion. They claim to defend life, yet deny the living their agency. It is here that Gillibrand’s declaration burns with renewed flame—a reminder that medical decisions belong not to politicians or priests, but to the person whose heart beats within that body. To deny that choice is to break the covenant of freedom that this nation once swore to uphold.

The meaning of her words is both moral and human. She speaks not of ideology, but of trust—the trust that forms the foundation of any just society. A state that does not trust its women does not trust its people. To withhold the tools of health care, to legislate the choices of the body, is to declare that some citizens are not whole, that their judgment is lesser, their voices unworthy. Such a world breeds only silence and suffering. But when a nation listens—when it trusts women to choose their paths—then it becomes what it was meant to be: a dwelling place of equality and light.

Look to history again, to the long road of courage that stretches from the Seneca Falls Convention to the present day. Each generation of women has had to lift the banner of freedom anew, bearing it through storms of ridicule and resistance. And yet, they have not faltered. Their endurance teaches us that liberty is not inherited—it is defended. Their defiance teaches that progress is not a gift—it is forged. It is upon their shoulders that Gillibrand’s words stand, blazing with the conviction that bodily autonomy is not a privilege, but a birthright.

So, to you who hear this teaching: carry it forward. Defend the right of every person to govern their own body, their own destiny. Speak when silence would be safer; act when hesitation tempts the heart. Support those who bring compassion into medicine, and challenge those who seek to wield control in the name of virtue. For the measure of a civilization is not its wealth or its armies, but how deeply it honors the freedom of its own children.

In the end, the lesson is clear: trust is the highest form of respect, and autonomy the purest expression of dignity. As the ancients said, “He who would rule another’s body has already lost mastery of his own soul.” Let us, then, walk in wisdom—trusting women, uplifting life, and guarding the sacred realm of choice. For only in such trust does humanity rise, whole and unbroken, into the light of its better self.