As an evangelical teenager I attended the March for Life with a group from my Christian high school between 1989-1992. In my senior year I organized the trip after being tapped for the job by the upperclassman who previously held the position. Being selected was itself a status upgrade in my small, parent-run school, one that paid out later in the year when I was recognized with an award for “servant-leadership.” My mother volunteered for a local pro-life hotline and bought me a tiny silver pin shaped like two small feet, the size of a fetus at 5 weeks which I wore often. My father, a local pastor who previously chaired our counties anti-porn campaign, accompanied my mother to numerous demonstrations. Between school and family there was never any question that being a Christian meant opposing abortion, pornography, and comprehensive sex education—all presumed threats to my personal well-being.