Happening (2022)

Any day now, my gyno is expected to call and inform me that the IUD I ordered has arrived, ready to be gracefully inserted into my cervix. The notoriously pleasant and pain-free procedure that everyone with a uterus looks forward to (right next to their annual pap smear) is a prelude to the beautiful and pain-free act of giving birth. I am choosing to get an IUD, after several years of deliberation and second opinions from doctors despite my self-doubt.

This anecdote of my reproductive health journey comes riding on the coattails of news that recently rocked Americans: in a leaked debriefing, it was revealed a potential majority of the Supreme Court is in favor of overturning Roe v. Wade.

The effort to overturn Roe v. Wade has been alive and well in America since it was decided in the 70s, so in some ways, it comes as no surprise. I am originally from Texas, where laws to delay or lengthen the process of acquiring an abortion (like the fetal heartbeat bill) have already been on the books for quite some time.

History has told us that removing access to abortion does not eliminate the occurrence of abortion, but rather encourages the rise of more dangerous back-alley methods. And this is no more telling than when we take a look at one woman’s journey to attain an abortion in rural 1960s France in Audrey Diwan’s Happening.

Anne is a diligent student, studying literature at university and hoping to become a writer like Sartre. She likes going to the local sock hop, where the patrons are young and there’s a lot of slow dancing, but a few unspoken rules. Coca-Cola is a stand-in for booze, and you’re never to go home with anyone but the friend group you came with or else risk ruining your reputation. You get a real sense of the sexual repression that is at play in this culture, but also for good reason. Contraception wasn’t legal in France until 1967.

In a world where any sexual encounter could result in a life-altering pregnancy, indebting oneself to a life of servitude and forced parenthood would rightfully set anyone on alert. And so it is no wonder that disguised beneath the glittering lights of the sock hop dance floor there is a real fear.

Reducing sex to a procreative act means taking out all the fun and pleasure that comes along with it. And when the state takes it upon itself to interfere with this bodily autonomy then we enter into some truly dystopian territory. Especially when the consequences of sex comes at a price for non-men, who already hold less power within socio, political, and economic spheres. When we eliminate autonomy in the means of reproduction we are essentially eliminating sexual autonomy. How are we to self-actualize when we feel such shame and dissociation from our bodies?

When Anne becomes pregnant through mysterious means at the beginning of the film, she first copes with this shock through denial. In vain, she banks on the fact that her several missed periods could be the result of latent flu from the previous winter, yet her doctor concludes otherwise. He smooths over the crushing news with the rosy sentiment, ‘You’re going to be a mother.’ In other words, eliminating any possibility of choice. When she urges her doctor to do something, he sternly tells her of the legal implications—that he would undoubtedly go to jail even as an accomplice.

Anne keeps her condition to herself, not even able to tell her friends due to the social and legal fallout that may ensue. With no support system at home or among friends or even within the medical community, Anne is forced to take matters into her hand, attempting an abortion on herself with a metal rod.

The emotional and mental toll of this unwanted pregnancy is for Anne alone to carry. Her grades drop, yet she still must attempt a facade of normalcy, all while under the hyper-focused gaze of others. From her family to the girls at her dorm who make it their mission to monitor the sexual lives of others.

Happening shows a common rule between then and now; sexual health and reproduction is a matter of personal responsibility, a burden carried by those with uteruses. This means that all of the trials and tribulations of acquiring birth control and abortions are made to fall solely on our shoulders. This is not even taking into account the finger-wagging and misinformation that muddles all this decision-making, that we are largely confronted with alone.

With or without abortion, there is no telling the amount of emotional and physical trauma or social stigma built on suspicion that she may have to confront in the future. Happening encapsulates the fear and trauma that arises when systems of support are not built into the community and the medical establishment—how truly terrifying and gut-wrenching this reality is.