What, to the 24-year-old, is the death of Roe v. Wade? My colleagues have described the momentousness of yesterday’s ruling from almost every angle imaginable: Its significance for pro-lifers, for the conservative movement, for a proper and just understanding of the Constitution, and — of course — for the unborn. I shared the transcript of a speech I gave last night to my fellow young conservatives on The Corner earlier today, where I tried to speak to what it should mean to those of us who share our elders’ commitment to the sanctity of unborn life, and their joy at the Supreme Court’s decision, but who have only just recently come of political age:
In this specific political context, we should also be considering the momentousness of today as conservatives; and for many of the young people here, as those who will—in one way or another—be inheriting the levers of power in the institutional conservative movement…this is a moment to be proud of our history. To be proud to be in this room—not because we, as young people here, have contributed all that much to the cause of life or the defense of the Constitution, but because we are lucky enough to have the chance to carry on the work begun by our forefathers. The ones who toiled, often thanklessly; often in silence; often in the face of ridicule and censure in mainstream institutions; for nearly half a century, and for decades and decades when the possibility of overturning Roe was unthinkable.
I just want to add a couple quick thoughts to this sentiment. It’s a difficult question that I’ve been reckoning with over the past 24 hours: How should young conservatives think about Roe’s demise? Can we really feel “proud” of the fruit of a labor that was not, primarily, ours? Certainly, we can and should feel joy — joy for the millions of unborn lives who will see the light of day, and for a nation whose “fundamental law,” as the editors wrote yesterday, “will no longer effectively treat unborn children as categorically excluded from the most basic protection that law can provide.”
But in the headiness of victory, I also can’t help but feel a certain amount of imposter’s syndrome. For me, this is particularly potent, given that I was not raised conservative, and only recently arrived in the movement. This is the conservative movement’s victory, yes, but it does not feel like it is mine. I wasn’t there for the decades of grassroots organizing, letter-writing, door-knocking, and prayer. I did not share in the many heartbreaks and losses that were sustained and endured on the uneven path to yesterday’s victory.
The conclusion that I’ve arrived at, then, is that there is one appropriate emotion for a young conservative to feel in this moment: gratitude. With gratitude, comes humility; with humility, comes a moment for reflection. Today, I reflect on the nameless generations who toiled in silence before me, in the darkness of the decades when overturning Roe seemed a Sisyphean task — beyond the reach of any rational political imagination. I cannot ever hope to understand what yesterday’s decision means to them. But in acknowledging my own limited capacity to understand this moment, I can begin to recognize the magnitude of the debt they are owed.