Trauma and the Transition from Girl to Woman
By: Alana Mcconnell
Tags: Comingofage, Fleabag, Abortion, Trauma, Womanhood

Recently I went to the cinema with my father and sister and we watched Never Rarely Sometimes Always. Not to be confused with the middling and irreverent 2010 comedy Happythankyoumoreplease, Never Rarely Sometimes Always is an indie drama film directed by Eliza Hittman about a 17 year old girl named Autumn from a small town in Pennsylvania who finds out she is pregnant. Her options are bleak, and none of them pain-free. She desperately wants to avoid telling her parents about her situation, but in the state of Pennsylvania she needs to gain parental approval to get an abortion. If she did decide to keep the baby, her life would change dramatically, and would have its own complex hurdles to overcome. We’ve all heard this story before to some degree, but Never Rarely Sometimes Always uses sparse dialogue, honest acting, and thoughtful direction to connect with the viewers and to show the true trauma of Autumn’s experience, one which she is largely not in control of.

From researching “self-induced abortion” which results in her punching her stomach over and over again, being shown a grisly anti-abortion video at a Crisis Pregnancy Centre that clearly has ulterior motives, and eventually making the difficult journey all the way to New York City, this story is plagued with injuries upon Autumn’s psyche and body. The only source of support she receives is from her best friend and cousin Skylar, who helps her get the money for the bus journey, and who stays by her side throughout the unforgiving journey.

As I watched this film, my heart hurt. It was an incredibly difficult film to watch, and I realised that the transition from girl to woman is often plagued by a stark loss of innocence, and trauma that is inflicted on both a physical and emotional level. This loss of innocence is rarely talked about. Maybe it’s because of shame, or because we don’t want to admit that things hurt us as much as they really do. The most heart-wrenching scene in the film is when Autumn is sitting with a counsellor in the abortion clinic and is answering an array of questions with the answer of either 1. Never 2. Rarely 3. Sometimes 4. Always. The questions quickly go from simple to difficult, eventually being asked about experiences of non-consensual sex, coercion, and violence. Autumn is only 17, having had sex for the first time at 14, and has already been subject to sex that is violating and unsafe, which has led to her seeking out an abortion. One trauma inflicted on her by an unknown man, who will not have to face any consequences or any guilt, has led to another trauma, which can lead to years of trauma.

Is this what it is like to be a woman in this world? Is it just internalised and quiet pain that we hold within us? Is it enduring unspeakable acts which leads to shame and heartache? If Autumn chose to have the child, she would face stigma, rejection in her town and from her family, and economic insecurity resulting in years of struggle and hardship. We can’t also can’t ignore the actual process of childbirth, the wrenching pain and the fact that so many women experience their bodies physically ripping during childbirth, often not receiving appropriate medical support in the healing process, becoming strangers to their own bodies. Then there is also the reality of postpartum depression, with its overwhelming feelings of emptiness, hopelessness, and guilt, which 1 in 9 will women experience, oftentimes in silence. So is the path to becoming a woman just paved with pain? And what is the antidote, if there is any?

Though an entirely different genre, the British television show Fleabag featured an incredible monologue by Kristin Soctt Thomas about pain and being female. As she sits next to Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s character at a bar on their second round of martinis, Scott Thomas delivers an impassioned speech about our existence of being female and all the pain it entails.

“Women are born with pain built in. It’s our physical destiny- period pains, sore boobs, childbirth. We carry it within ourselves throughout our lives. Men don’t. They have to seek it out. They invent all these gods and demons so they can feel guilty about things, which is something we do very well on our own. And then they create wars so they can feel things and touch each other and when there aren’t any wars they can play rugby. We have it all going on in here, inside. We have pain on a cycle for years and years and years, and then just when you feel you are making peace with it all, what happens? The menopause comes.”

It’s easy to become angry and upset and entirely disillusioned by the existence of being a woman in this world. And this is coming from a white woman who is born in a wealthy and democractic country where from the outside we can claim that feminism has succeeded and that equality has been reached. Though I am extremely lucky and privileged in so many regards, as I don’t live in a country filled with complete and overt sexism and misogyny, there are some things I cannot avoid. At age 21 I have experienced the journey to womanhood that is inevitably paved with trauma and pain, no matter how small and hard to discern it is from the outside. I have spent my adulthood desperately trying to avoid getting pregnant, weighing up the unpleasant options of female birth control, spending $40 on emergency contraceptive whilst feeling intense shame while the male in the equation is blissfully unaware. I have experienced coercive sex which has left me feeling worthless and confused, where I place the blame on myself and what I could have done differently. I have had to fight to undo all of my internalised and ultimately damaging beliefs about my identity as a woman, one that should be based on my merits and my unique identity instead of my sexuality, appearance, and my body.

At the end of the rousing speech, Kristen Scott Thomas concludes by saying that people are all we have got. Though initially claiming that people are “shit”, she is right in the sense that we are all we have. We have pain inflicted on us and inflict pain on others, but we also have the capacity to be healed and heal each other. And in terms of womanhood, our female connections and friendships are the best thing we have to make it through our lives, in all its pain and trauma. In Never Rarely Sometimes Always, the power of female friendship was the one thing that allowed Autumn to make it through the awful journey to get an abortion. Whether it be a quick squeeze of the hand, an intense look followed by an understanding nod, or just simply sitting beside each other, the two girls were all they had in the harsh city of New York, filled with danger and uncertainty.

We aren’t alone in this. Though we will face intense pain as women, we also are lucky to have beautiful, deep, connective, and transformative friendships with each other. These friendships are strong enough to help us get through the pain of our everyday life. When your friend tells you about some trauma, whether it be a rape, an abortion, or just simply a negative belief or feeling, you can stand with her and hold space for her. And that is the beauty amongst all the pain. Never Rarely Sometimes Always depicts abortion in a sensitive and unflinching fashion, as well as showing the triumph of female friendship, which allows us to make that often difficult transition from girlhood innocence to fully fledged womanhood.