When I was in college, I had to drive 35 miles from San Marcos to Austin to visit Planned Parenthood. The first time I drove there in 2016, I didn’t know the way and the traffic on Interstate 35 overwhelmed me. For someone like me, young, uninsured, and terrified of driving in a big city, the short trip felt like crossing a continent.
So obtaining basic reproductive health care seemed virtually impossible. But I had no choice. I had no insurance. I needed care and answers.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been to a Planned Parenthood clinic. When I was 10, I remember sitting in the waiting room while my mom received care at the Planned Parenthood in the Rio Grande Valley. She tried to hide her nervousness, but I sensed it in the hum of the TV, the quiet whispers, and the weight of the moment. I didn’t fully understand what was happening, but I understood enough that this place mattered. It helped women like my mom. And one day, it would help me too.
