“Pregnant? Don’t want to be? Call Jane at 643-3844,” read a small ad in a late 1960s alternative Chicago newspaper.

After dialing “Jane,” an answering machine instructed callers to leave their name, phone number, and date of their last menstrual cycle. The entire phone conversation remained confidential, as what the service was plotting to help with—obtaining an abortion—was illegal in every state at the time, and had been for over 50 years. 

“Three people discussing having an abortion in Chicago in 1965 was a conspiracy to commit felony murder,” said civil rights activist and feminist Heather Booth in an interview with CNN.

At the University of Chicago in the mid-1960s, Booth helped a friend obtain a safe abortion. The woman was debating suicide because of her preganancy and lack of termination options when Booth found a local doctor and negotiated an abortion for her. Though illegal, she knew her actions would save this woman’s life. 

“I was told she was nearly suicidal,” Booth said in an interview with the New York Times. “I viewed it not as breaking the law but as acting on the golden rule. Someone was in anguish, and I tried to help her.”

Putting legal restrictions on abortion doesn’t eliminate the demand, found a 2020 study by the Guttmacher Institute, it just leads to pregnant women pursuing whatever termination methods they can find. Then, the only ones available are expensive and unsafe procedures, often with disastrous consequences. 

As word started to spread, more people reached out to Booth in the hopes that she could help them, too. Thus, the Jane Collective, an underground abortion network, was born. Between 1969 and 1973, the Janes provided abortions for over 11,000 people.

“There were about 100 women a week calling for help, much more than one person could handle,” Booth said. “I recruited about 12 other people and began training them how to do the counseling.”

Made up of mostly women in their twenties, the Jane Collective took off in 1969. Over the years, more than 100 people were involved with the collective. It was revolutionary for both its illegality, but also its respect for its patients. While they did offer counseling and discussed the possibility of adoption with the women who called, the Janes’ main service included referring callers to legitimate doctors willing to perform the secret procedures.

The illicit nature of the service quickly put a target on its back. In 1971, the Janes found that one of their often-used doctors had lied about his medical credentials. Immediately, the group split. Some members felt betrayed and quit, while the ones who stayed had a revelation. 

The women discovered that though he had learned his skills by aiding an abortion provider, he was not officially one himself. However, he had been performing up to 20 abortions per day, and was arguably just as skilled (if not more so) than a licensed doctor who performed less than 10 per year. Several of the Janes had been aiding this fake doctor the whole time, learning how to perform the procedure. The women realized if he could do it, so could they. 

The Janes were quite experienced at this point, and more than willing to do the work themselves, so a couple members learned how to do dilation and curettage abortions. Other women answered calls, drove patients to the discreet locations, and kept the procedure areas sterile. 

Getting rid of the risky middle man allowed the Janes to lower prices and keep their service even more private. They operated on a sliding scale fee system to ensure that no one was turned away for lack of funds. The fee was anywhere between $1 and $100, based on what the patients could afford to pay.

The Janes stayed largely out of the public eye until the ‘70s. A 1972 police raid of two of the Janes’ apartments used for their services saw seven Janes arrested. While waiting for trial, the women discovered that the arrest was not a widespread investigation, simply a one-time bust that stemmed from a tip from one of the patients that day’s sister-in-law. Paranoia then eased, and the Janes continued providing the services—even those who were arrested. 

However, despite many patients refusing to testify, the seven Janes were charged with 11 counts of abortion and conspiracy to commit abortion—with a maximum sentence of up to 110 years in prison each. 

“Had we not gotten arrested, I think no one would ever have known about Jane other than the women we served,” Martha Scott, another Jane, said in an interview with WTTW.

But, before their case could go to trial, the Janes were rescued by “Jane Roe.” 

In Texas, growing simultaneously with the Jane Collective, a group of lawyers were looking for a case to challenge the nationwide abortion bans due to the horrors and deaths of unsafe abortions. They met with Norma McCorvey, “Jane Roe,” who had been denied an abortion because the pregnancy did not threaten her life, and filed suit on her behalf against Henry Wade, the district attorney for Dallas County, Texas. 

Sarah Weddington, a 26-year-old, argued the case before the all-male Supreme Court in 1971 and 1972. Then, on Jan. 22, 1973, the Supreme Court issued its landmark decision in Roe v. Wade, holding that women across the United States had a fundamental right to abortion according to the due process clause of the 14th Amendment. 

The Janes’ attorney, Jo-Ann Wolfson, knew that Roe v. Wade was being heard by the court and adopted delaying tactics, correctly predicting that if passed, Roe would force the Janes’ charges to be thrown out. The decision was issued and did in fact render the charges against the Janes moot. They disbanded shortly after, as there was no need for an underground abortion network anymore.

Today, abortion is much more common: Around 25% of people with a uterus will have an abortion in their lifetime.

“Everyone should have the ability to make decisions about our own lives, bodies, and futures without political interference,” said Booth in a 2023 CNN article.

The Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in June 2022, reversing a decades-long federal right to abortion. The case Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization abandoned almost 50 years of precedent—with the Supreme Court taking away what was previously assured as a fundamental right. 

Since the Court’s decision, 19 states have flat out banned abortion or restricted the procedure earlier than the standard set in Roe v. Wade, forcing people to travel hundreds of miles to access abortion care or carry the pregnancies to term against their will. However, many states have taken legal steps to protect reproductive rights. 

Abortion is enshrined in the Massachusetts state constitution and comprehensive abortion legislation was passed in 2021. In 2023, the first full year following Dobbs v. Jackson WHO, abortions in Massachusetts jumped 37%, driven by a sharp increase in out of state patients. According to the state Department of Health, 2022 saw 920 non-Massachusetts resident abortions, while in 2023, there were 6,115.

“This is a country of ill-educated politicos who know nothing about women’s bodies, nor do they care,” said Dorie Barron, another Jane, in an interview with CNN. “It will take generations to even begin to undo the devastating harm to women’s rights.”