I had two abortions. Here’s why the law would have stopped mine.

There is a question I have been asking myself for a long time. Why does the pro-life movement trust former abortion workers when we expose the abortion industry, but often dismiss us when we talk about how to end it?

For nearly two decades, I have shared my story. I have testified before legislatures. I have spoken in churches. I have appeared in the media. I have explained how abortion facilities operate, how women are pressured, how employees are trained and how the industry protects itself.

When former abortion workers tell those stories, the movement listens. And it should.

We have seen things that most people have not seen. We know what happens behind closed doors. We understand the culture. We understand the business model. We understand the arguments. Most importantly, we understand the women.

For years, the pro-life movement has rightly elevated the voices of women who regret their abortions and former abortion workers who left the industry. We ask them to testify before legislatures. We put them on stages. We feature them in documentaries. We tell the world, “Listen to these people. They know what abortion really is.”

And they do.

But if their experience is valuable enough to help us understand the problem, shouldn’t it also be valuable enough to help us discuss the solution?

Former abortion workers have spent years watching abortion happen. Women who have had abortions know firsthand the pressures, fears and circumstances that lead to those decisions.

Neither group should be ignored when they tell us what they believe would have prevented abortion in the first place.

You don’t have to agree with every conclusion we reach. But it seems strange to celebrate our experience when it supports one argument and dismiss it when it supports another.

Something changes when many former abortion workers begin advocating for equal protection under the law. Suddenly, our experience becomes less valuable. Suddenly, we are told we do not understand strategy. We do not understand politics. We do not understand legislative realities. We do not understand what is possible.

And maybe there are things we do not understand. I am not an attorney. I am not a judge. I am not a constitutional scholar.

But I am a woman who had two abortions. And I am a former abortion worker who spent eight years inside the industry. I know something about abortion. I know something about the women who seek abortions. I know something about the people who profit from them. And I know something about what allows abortion to continue.

The law matters. The law teaches. The law restrains. The law shapes culture. The law communicates what a society values and what it is willing to tolerate.

Some people argue that making abortion illegal would not stop abortion. Certainly, some people break laws. That is true of every crime. But no serious person argues that laws are therefore meaningless. The law protects us from harmful actions every day. It establishes boundaries. It creates consequences. It provides opportunities for intervention.

I know this much: I would not have had my abortions if abortion had been illegal. People can disagree with that statement. They cannot know my life better than I do. I know the circumstances surrounding my abortions. I know the fear, confusion and pressure I was experiencing. And I know that the law would have mattered.

Would every abortion have been prevented? No. But many would. Mine would have been.

The employees — including me — would not have been participating in a system that depended on legal recognition and legal immunity. These are not abstract theories to me. These are realities I lived.

What makes this conversation even more important is that my perspective is not mine alone.

Our ministry, And Then There Were None, serves women who have had abortions. Not women who were thinking about having an abortion. Not women who were “abortion determined.” Women who actually had the abortion. Cumulatively, we saw hundreds of thousands of them. We now walk with them through grief, regret, trauma, healing and reconciliation. We hear stories every day that never make it into legislative hearings, political campaigns or strategy meetings.

We know the pressures these women faced. We know the lies they were told. We know the pain many of them carry. And after years of listening, our ministry made a decision.

We publicly embraced equal protection for the unborn. Not because it was popular. Not because it was politically expedient. Not because it would help fundraising. If anything, it made life harder. We did it because we became convinced it was right.

That should mean something. The testimony of former abortion workers should matter. The voices of women who have actually had abortions should matter. The experience of those who spent years inside the industry should matter.

Instead, too often, those voices are welcomed only when they support conclusions that movement leaders have already reached.

I am not asking anyone to agree with me simply because of my story. Truth is not determined by personal experience. But experience should at least earn a hearing.

And if the people who once worked in abortion facilities are telling you that abortion survives because it enjoys legal protection, perhaps that testimony deserves serious consideration.

The reality is that every successful human rights movement has eventually arrived at the same conclusion: Human beings are entitled to equal protection under the law.

Not partial protection. Not strategic protection. Not protection when politically convenient. Equal protection.

If we truly believe the child in the womb is a human being, then that principle becomes difficult to avoid.

The movement can continue debating strategy. It can continue debating timing. It can continue debating political feasibility. Those are worthwhile conversations. But at some point, we should at least be willing to listen to the people who have seen abortion from the inside.

Because when former abortion workers tell you what keeps the abortion industry alive, we are not speaking from theory. We are speaking from experience.

And experience is a terrible thing to waste.

Abby Johnson is CEO and Founder of And Then There Were None and ProLove Ministries. She is the author of Unplanned and Fierce Mercy.