The March for Life was different this year — and not just because President Trump showed up.
Trump was a big deal, of course. On Jan. 24, he became the first U.S. president in the march’s 47-year history to address in person the thousands of pro-lifers who gathered in Washington. His presence drew a flurry of media attention (a rare blessing for the march) and ballooned the crowd’s size to more than 100,000 people, filling the National Mall and surrounding streets all the way down to the Washington Monument.
But Trump was not there just to rally supporters around himself. He came to court the pro-life movement, which, since the 2016 election, proved it is a powerful voting bloc, and one that Trump must appease if he is to win reelection in 2020.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for life,” March for Life President Jeanne Mancini said to Trump as she introduced him. “And thank you for everything you will be doing for life in the years ahead,” she added, forcefully emphasizing the will — a reminder that the often-underserved pro-life movement will continue to hold Trump accountable.
Trump’s words, focusing on a defense of “the dignity and the sanctity of every human life,” channeled the hopeful energy of the pro-life movement. It’s an energy that Trump needs behind him as much as pro-lifers need Trump to issue executive orders and nominate judges friendly to their cause.
And if the 2020 March for Life is any indicator, it’s an energy that is bursting the pro-life movement’s traditional boundaries. Opposition to abortion is no longer a niche interest for conservative Catholics, right-wing evangelicals, and other orthodox religious sects. Abortion, rather like same-sex marriage in the early 2010s, is once again a serious political issue. And with the Trump presidency, pro-lifers are on the upswing, cautiously claiming the winning side of history. In other words, perhaps for the first time ever, it is cool to be pro-life.
It makes sense: The majority of marchers were young, teenagers, or groups of 20-somethings. And they weren’t just church youth-group children who got packed into a bus by their middle-aged, politically conscious chaperons. Many were college students who trucked themselves out there not just from religious colleges, but also from the big state schools.
“For most attendees, it takes a lot more than a two-hour car ride to get to the march,” said Hayley Schultz, a student from the University of Virginia. “That’s what makes the whole thing so remarkable: People travel from all over the country, from all over the world, to show their support for the unborn.”
And this year, that support manifested itself in the form of culturally aware signage. References to “Baby Yoda” from Star Wars’s The Mandalorian lined Constitution Avenue, encouraging passersby to “Choose Life, You Should” and “Protect the Child. This Is the Way.” These, along with several meme-themed signs, and a beautifully bizarre poster boosting the “Democratic Socialists of America Pro-Life Caucus,” were a breath of fresh air compared to the careworn Dr. Seuss references and tired political slogans that usually dot signage at the march.
Most striking, though, were loudspeakers blaring Kanye West’s new album, Jesus Is King, in front of the Supreme Court all afternoon. It was a reminder that Kanye himself has come out against abortion, last year accusing pro-choice Democrats of encouraging black people to abort their children, before offering his own thoughts on the subject: “Thou shall not kill.”
The scene was also a reminder that the pro-life movement contains multitudes. This was probably the only time anyone in Washington could listen to Kenny G on the saxophone and Dominican brothers praying the rosary within 200 feet of each other.
The exuberance of the march contrasts sharply with a scene that occurred on the opposite end of the ideological spectrum only two days later. During a Fox News town hall with Pete Buttigieg, a woman stood up, identified herself as a pro-life Democrat, and asked if there was still room for her in the party.
Buttigieg waffled and delivered a discouraging answer.
“I support the position of my party that this kind of medical care needs to be available to everyone,” he said. “I support the Roe v. Wade framework that holds that early in pregnancy, there are very few restrictions and late in pregnancy, there are very few exceptions. And again, the best I can offer is that we may disagree on that very important issue and hopefully, we’ll be able to partner on other issues.”
No one talks that way about an issue he believes carries moral weight. Even after she pressed him for a better answer, Buttigieg held fast: There is no room for pro-lifers in his vision of the Democratic Party. Sen. Bernie Sanders made that point even more clearly than Buttigieg, tweeting during the March for Life: “Abortion is health care.”
Neither the limp legalese of Buttigieg or the authoritarian reproaches of Sanders inspire much fervor in their audiences. And why should they? Both men are essentially offering admonitions.
The pro-choice movement appeals to public convenience, leaving morality to the discretion of the individual. The pro-life movement aims higher: By branding itself as a public crusade for human dignity, it invites all walks of life to pour whatever they’ve got into furthering the cause. It can house Kanye, Baby Yoda, and yes, even an irony-drenched DSA member.
The pro-life movement is an all-inclusive push. Maybe that’s why it’s becoming cool.
Nic Rowan is a writer living in Washington.
