I remember distinctly the day in my childhood that I became aware of anti-abortion protestors as my father and I were going somewhere in the city. I asked my dad what they were mad about. “They’re mad that women are allowed to stop their pregnancies.” My dad told me. “They think it’s about killing babies.” I remember thinking about it for a moment before asking something related, but my dad made a point that stuck with me for the rest of my life: “Don’t you think women should be allowed to decide what happens with their own bodies?” That’s when I became a feminist before I even had the words to know what that meant.