In the development of this film, I constantly questioned myself: why these two stories? Because every abortion experience is unique, and each one valid. There were so many facets to cover: the barriers to reproductive healthcare in this country, from the unimaginable risks of breaking the law in conservative states, the trauma of dealing with parental consent laws and judicial bypass, and the many, many obstacles that continue to strip people of their autonomy and basic rights; or the censure that women suffer through in Indian society, for wanting freedom beyond the patriarchal norms that threaten its archaic ideas of sanskaar (tradition), for carving out a space for ourselves to thrive, for choosing not to care what people think about us.

I was less concerned about the “why” of their choice. A teenager wanting an abortion in a state that doesn’t allow it, and contrastingly, an older woman wanting to continue her pregnancy in a society that wouldn’t stand for it — their motivations don’t need elucidation. I wanted to stay with their fear in that moment, the feeling of abject hopelessness that a person might experience in a situation where they find their choice taken away from them. I wanted my audience to feel rage in the knowledge that we don’t have control over our bodies and our future. But underneath all that, I mostly hoped it led the viewer, whatever their beliefs might be, to empathize with my characters, and not demonize them.