A few months ago, I ran into a friend of mine from college and law school — that is to say, we got re-united, on-line. She had been living in the US since she got married and had stopped practicing law. I on the other hand went into what even then was my predictable "career path," in public interest law in women's human rights. I heard from other friends that she was a happy mom of two daughters but didn't really know how to get in touch with her again after many years. Partly, I was also feeling a little bit guilty about how an exchange we had over emails a few years back (before either of us had any children) about abortion. We were both passionate about our views, hers against abortion, and mine for women's rights to it, and although I don't remember the words we used, I remember it took an ugly turn.

Looking back I think the reason it got so unbelievably hurtful was that I always remembered her as a feminist in college. I don't think it was just me that had this impression, but now that I think about it, I realize we never really had much of chance to talk about abortion specifically. A lot of it was also youthful arrogance — hers and mine. Admittedly, while I have the same position on women's right to abortion now, as a much older feminist, I know some things a little bit (at least a tad) better now. I know not all feminists agree with abortion (or for that matter a lot of other things) and I certainly recognize that this issue is so much more than the boxes many of us (especially popular media and law) have placed them in. Abortion isn't about "Pro-Life" or "Pro-Choice," those arbitrary slogans whose meanings get lost in the feeble line-drawing games people play. Women who have abortions don't always know where they stand about these things and yet passions flare, feelings get hurt and friends lose touch.

And when people lose touch, they stop talking and that is the most dreadful part of it. Over the years as a feminist who has publicly spoken about women's right to safe abortion (where I come from many feminists still feel threatened about doing this), I have also quite surprisingly maintained friendships with women who consider themselves against abortion because of their religious beliefs. Many of them are also in human rights work and have always come in support of my work in women's rights.

Two years ago, feminist friends who come together every now and then to discuss sexual rights and abortion back home came up with an idea for a workshop. Instead of using the usual pro/anti binary someone suggested that we come up with our descriptions about how we felt towards abortion. We didn't confine ourselves to either law or medicine but were free to categorize where it was we stood on the issue. The result, and the views expressed, while not exactly original (I recently read a book that describes similar stories from Latin America), was nonetheless an eye opener.

While some women tried to reconcile their views with their understanding of science and religion (i.e. emergency contraception, early term abortion) some aligned their positions on specific women's situations, particularly when left without options or when suffering injustice (rape, incest and fetal abnormality). Some women were also able to simply trust women's individual judgement, citing women's capacity to make the decision as the sole basis. And like the stories of other women elsewhere, there were women who admitted they always stood against it until they had one themselves.

Yet what was perhaps even more groundbreaking than hearing the continuum of positions was the simple fact that it actually felt easier to breathe after that exercise. Knowing that each was accepted under her own terms of accepting the issue made the meeting all the more extraordinary. Being accepted and respected all the more made accepting and respecting others important.

In my line of work as it is I suppose for the lot of advocates who keep the fires burning for the cause of sexual and reproductive health as human rights, it is encouraging (and heart warming) to know that our work can open doors. In seeking recognition for women's rights and standing up against injustice, it really isn't (and shouldn't be) a "war" about an "us" and "them," but rather an opening up to ways of thinking, levels of meaning and feeling.

Ultimately, even when it feels like we stand across pre-drawn battle-lines in this debate, and there will always be times when this feels exactly like a war with little understanding — hopefully there will still be a chance for sober talk and compassionate dialogue. It isn't easy and it always entails a risk of stepping out of our comfort zones but every now and then it pays off. At the end of the day, we might not end up having the exact same views and positions but it may bring us closer to being more open and sensitive to understand where each one is coming from.

A few weeks ago I took the plunge and went out on limb and emailed my friend after seeing her email in a list. It took her a few days to write me back but when she did, she was warm towards me and we didn't even have to dance around the topic. It was there in front of us, our lives somehow taking a turn where our views on abortion are figuring prominently as ever. She had decided to study again, and this time is taking up nursing. I on the other hand am doing graduate studies in law on a Reproductive and Sexual Health Fellowship.

We acknowledged where each of us stood, a bit sheepishly at first but because we were also older (some ways wiser or patient), we talked over the phone and listened to our differences melt away. We still feel differently on abortion and stand apart on the issue of law, science, medicine but who knows where else? We haven't really dug in to ethical aspects yet but I'm looking forward to it as much as we look forward to exchanging pictures of our loved ones (proud mothers as we are) and keeping in touch.

Related Post:

• Anna Clark, Changing Hearts: From Pro-Life to Pro-Choice