The killing of an abortion doctor
  March 9, 2023 Good evening, beautiful people, As you may know, yesterday was International Women’s Day. Tons of companies in the UK happily tweeted out their surface-level support—until this Twitter account retweeted those companies with data about their own gender pay gaps. Turns out posting a picture of a few women smiling is not enough to erase inequity!  In today’s newsletter, our slice of women’s history is more like an entire pie. Writer Stassa Edwards examines the history of anti-abortion violence in Pensacola, Florida—a city that marks a dark anniversary tomorrow. But first: the news. Grab your reading glasses 🥸, Bailey Wayne Hundl  WHAT’S GOING ONFinally, some good news!: Yesterday, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz (D) signed an executive order protecting access to gender-affirming healthcare. Not only does this order direct all state agencies to protect anyone seeking this care “to the fullest extent of their lawful authority,” but it also instructs them not to comply with investigations in the growing number of states where gender-affirming surgeries or treatments are banned or limited. In effect, this order turns Minnesota into a refuge state for anyone who wants to medically transition, even if their home state has restricted their access. With South Dakota having just banned gender care for minors (and Iowa well on its way), the timing for this order could not be better. AND:
 A 🍕 OF HISTORYIt All Started in PensacolaHow the 1993 murder of Dr. David Gunn set off 30 years of violence toward abortion providers BY STASSA EDWARDS  PETER AND MAYE GUNN, PARENTS OF MURDERED OBSTETRICIAN DR. DAVID GUNN, LAY FLOWERS ON THEIR SON’S CASKET. (PHOTO BY THOMAS S. ENGLAND VIA GETTY IMAGES) On March 10, 1993, 31-year-old Michael Griffin, a fundamentalist with a “bad temper,” pulled out a shotgun, yelled, “Don’t kill any more babies,” and shot Dr. David Gunn three times in the back, killing him. Dr. Gunn had been walking into the offices of the Pensacola Women’s Medical Services Clinic, one of the two abortion clinics in Pensacola, Florida, where he provided care. He died on the lawn of the clinic. According to one witness, the anti-abortion protesters who surrounded the clinic nearly every day looked on “like they were just happy.” Dr. Gunn’s murder was the first of an abortion doctor in modern times—and the opening salvo of a campaign of intensifying violence against abortion providers during the 1990s. Dr. Gunn had been a true believer in reproductive freedom, undeterred by the threats of violence he faced. Just weeks before he died, on the 20th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, he stepped outside the clinic and sang “Happy Birthday” to the protesters outside. But Griffin believed he was acting under the guidance of God, and his action set a decades-long chain of events in motion. As we approach the 30th anniversary of Dr. Gunn’s death—as reproductive care becomes increasingly harder to access and abortion providers continue to face alarming rates of violence—it is worth remembering what happened in Pensacola.  ANTI-ABORTION PROTESTORS PICKET THE 1985 TRIAL OF MATTHEW GOLDSBY AND JAMES SIMMONS, WHO BOMBED THREE PENSACOLA ABORTION CLINICS. (PHOTO BY BETTMANN/GETTY IMAGES) TWO MEN AND A BOMB It was an accident of geography and a quirk of politics that made Pensacola a focal point for abortion violence: The Panhandle was accessible to abortion seekers in the deep South, and following Roe, Florida’s abortion laws were more permissive than those of the states that surrounded it. Women traveled to Pensacola from Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia to receive care. As patients came, so did protesters—and eventually violence came with them. It started peacefully, in the 1980s : prayer vigils and protest signs. Then it escalated to yelling at women, threatening clinic staff, and rushing clinics. When that wasn’t enough, they turned to bombs and guns. Before Dr. Gunn was murdered and before hardline activists descended on Pensacola, there were James Simmons and Matthew Goldsby, both 26-year-old fundamentalists who felt moved by God to bomb the other clinic in the area, the Ladies Center, in June 1984. The effort wasn’t as successful as they’d hoped; the explosion left the clinic extensively damaged, but didn’t close it for good. But Simmons and Goldsby weren’t done. Emboldened, they planned more bombings for early Christmas morning, 1984, as “a gift to Jesus.” Three explosives detonated in Pensacola, at the offices of two abortion providers and, yet again, the Ladies Center. No one was hurt. Simmons and Goldsby were eventually arrested. Before a judge put a gag order on him, their defense attorney spun a story to the press of two heroes, “knights in shining armor,” rescuing babies. They were eventually convicted and sentenced to 10 years in prison, but the bombings had done irrevocable damage. Though the Ladies Center eventually reopened, the two doctors targeted in the bombing packed up and left town. Though some anti-choice groups denounced the bombings, others saw them as righteous interventions. Then-President Ronald Reagan had little to say, although he eventually made a statement condemning “violent, anarchist activities” after a rash of bombings followed Pensacola. And Simmons and Goldsby had drastically altered the landscape of abortion, opening up the possibility of actual violence, not just harassment, against staff and abortion seekers. John Burt, a former Ku Klux Klan member with ties to the terrorist organization the Army of God, latched on to the bombers’ trial, eager to defend their extremist actions. Then, shortly after the Ladies Center reopened, Burt dedicated himself to protesting outside the clinic. He was so committed that he bought the piece of land next to the clinic. There, protesters could yell at women and intimidate staff without fear of arrest; after all, they weren’t trespassing. Michael Griffin, who went on to shoot Dr. Gunn, was one of Burt’s followers, and took his gospel of violence to heart (his lawyer later argued that Burt had brainwashed him into the crime), Yet Burt remained free well after Dr. Gunn’s murder to preach the gospel of violence. His decades-long campaign only ended in 2003, after he was sentenced to prison for molesting a teen at his Christian home for unwed mothers. In Pensacola and beyond, Griffin’s murder of Dr. Gunn galvanized the anti-abortion community even more than the 1984 bombings had done. Shelley Shannon, an Army of God associate who attempted to murder Dr. George Tiller in Wichita in 1993, called Griffin “the awesomest greatest hero of our time.” Griffin’s supporters didn’t care that Dr. Gunn was “known as a dedicated father and doctor,” as the Tampa Bay Times described him. To them, his death was a victory, and they were determined that it wouldn’t be the last. You can read the rest of this story here. Stassa Edwards is a writer and editor. Her bylines have appeared in Jezebel, Slate, Self, Aeon, and Lapham’s Quarterly.  FOLLOW THE METEOR    Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Tuesdays and Thursdays.
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