I’m lucky enough that one of my best friends is a role model in the ways of ambition and in feminism. When this friend of mine encouraged me to join her in training to escort patients to the Red River Women’s Clinic, I knew it was time to finally help women in the way I always wanted to. During our training session, I asked how to approach women who may be patients, a concept I’m still unsure of (unsure of how to determine if they’re a patient or not).

For those who don’t know what a Women’s Clinic Escort is, it’s someone who walks with patients down the sidewalk heading toward the Clinic, because protestors will be there. The protestors' presence is very unsettling to patients because they will do anything they believe may change the woman’s decision.

Among the protestors, there will often be people praying on their knees, chanting hymns, walking around the surrounding areas, handing out pamphlets or brochures, talking to the patients, or holding signs with photos of reportedly dead babies. It’s a frightening scene, and I can’t imagine what it must be like for the women to be bombarded with this as they have already made their decision, and the appointment.

I won’t get into reasons why I am pro-choice here; that is an opportunity for another article.

My first time escorting was a chilly Wednesday morning, and on the edge of a street, I could see a woman and her partner treading toward the clinic. She was crying; her partner was holding her and rubbing her arm.

As a very emotional person, I had to work hard to conceal my emotions and refrain from crying. We’re supposed to be strong. For them.

Escorting (almost) every Wednesday is rewarding, not only because I’m contributing to something I believe in, but mostly because of the positive effect it has had on the women who are escorted.