Everything We Could

A few words on Cecile Richards

The news that Cecile Richards died this morning took my breath away. It’s not that her passing was a surprise—Cecile went public about her brain cancer diagnosis last year—but when a force that large leaves the world, it seems odd that the sun is still in the sky and the world is still turning. Don’t they know what happened?

A life-long feminist activist and consummate troublemaker, Cecile is probably best known for her work as the president of Planned Parenthood. There, she led the organization for over a decade and became a public face for the pro-choice movement. I think often about what she must have sacrificed to do that work—not just the time and energy it took to lead on an issue like abortion, but the danger she put herself in every time she spoke up.

She did that for us.

The truth is that Cecile never stopped working for us, even after she got sick. At the time of her death, she was deep into Abortion in America—a storytelling project dedicated to showing the impact of abortion bans on people’s lives. One way or another, her work was always about listening to women and making sure our voices were heard. So it feels fitting that her last project is as grand as she was: A never-ending collection of women’s stories, daring people to ignore them.

It also feels right that Abortion in America is a constantly-growing campaign. She left us with work that demands we keep building, refusing to stew in apathy or despair. Yes, this is hard. Yes, it will demand a lot from us. But Cecile committed her life to the idea that we could do it anyway.

I know, of course, that in a moment when the world feels so dark it’s difficult to lose such a bright light. Cecile had an impossible-to-replicate strength and energy. But the thing that brings me hope is remembering one of those fundamental scientific truths: that energy doesn’t die, it just changes forms.

Her energy is our energy, which means that our energy is endless.

In their announcement about her death, Cecile’s family asked that we honor her by playing some New Orleans jazz music, gather with friends and family, and remember something she said often over the last year:

“It’s not hard to imagine future generations one day asking: ‘When there was so much at stake for our country, what did you do?’ The only acceptable answer is: ‘Everything we could.’”

After all Cecile did for us, ‘everything’ feels like the very least we can do.