Answering the Question: “What About Rape?”

Imagine for a moment, watching repeated news stories where people say that a person like you shouldn’t exist. Imagine hearing, over and over again, that you should be dead. Imagine someone telling you on TV or in real life, that you should’ve been aborted.

That’s been my experience nearly my whole life. I was conceived in rape but adopted in love. (It’s why I share my perspective in new video ads here and here.) Imagine America, today, if famed former slave and abolitionist, Frederick Douglass, had been aborted. He was conceived in rape too.

Lately, the tragedy of rape is being pervasively and politically exploited in order to justify all abortions. It’s not because there’s some sudden surge of compassion for rape victims, but because it’s a useful fear tactic to engender more acceptance of abortion-on-demand. Rape is violence. Abortion is paid violence. Both leave behind injured and abandoned victims.

My birth mom deserved better. The rapist deserved the worst. Yet many would argue I deserved a more severe punishment than the criminal. The Supreme Court even agreed. In 1977, the nation’s Highest Court ruled, in Coker v. Georgia, that a rapist could not receive the death penalty and declared: “…the sentence of death for the crime of rape is grossly disproportionate and excessive punishment, and is therefore forbidden by the Eighth Amendment as cruel and unusual punishment.” Yet, just four years prior, they ruled in Roe v. Wade and Doe v. Bolton, that an innocent unborn human, whose only “crime” is existing in utero, can be killed for any reason throughout the entire pregnancy. How do the innocent have lower status as human beings than rapists?­ Help this make sense.

None of us control the circumstances of our conception, so why should any child pay the price for the crime of the parent? The Supreme Court, for far too long, has possessed the unassigned and unchecked power of being arbiters of human worth. Our value doesn’t come from our government, origin stories, accomplishments, social status, ethnicity or any other kind of lineage. (I’m mostly Ukrainian and Nigerian, with plenty of Greek, British, German, Italian, Ghanaian, Irish, Spanish, Portuguese, Sierra Leonean, with a dash of Thai and more Native American than Elizabeth Warren, by the way.) Our human value is inherent and irrevocable. In a society that claims to fight for equality, way too many Americans still cannot get ‘created equal’ right. ­­

Equality begins when we begin. Scientifically, of course, that happens at the moment of conception. Yet millions of human beings, through no fault of their own, are devalued, dehumanized and destroyed because they are seen as worth less or even worthless. Their very existence is a threat to a shackling concept of “freedom”.

Mainstream media only gives you a singular narrative on pregnancy from rape: abortion. Why do they fear stories that don’t end in compounded violence but courageous victory? My birth mom was 21 years old when I was born. She had served in the military during a time when the Department of Defense allowed so-called “therapeutic abortions” in cases of sexual violence. She could’ve ended her pregnancy and erased everything that is me. Instead, her resilience resulted in causing beautiful reverberations for generations.

The baby boy she asked to hold after giving birth, so many years ago, had value that the world still doesn’t comprehend. Little would she know how her singular decision would change people’s lives. I was the first of ten children adopted into a diverse family of fifteen. My adoption was a catalyst for nine more children, from varied and broken backgrounds, to be adopted and loved in our family. My parents, Andrea and (the late) Henry Bomberger, never rejected us because of how we came to be. They loved us because of a quality most refuse to see: our God-given purpose.

Everyone is wanted by someone.

This is my mantra. I lived it as a son, grandson and brother. I’m a husband who is loved unconditionally by my amazing wife, Bethany. I’m a dad of four who loves my biological and adopted children equally, and they love me. I’m here because my birth mom was stronger than her circumstances, stronger than the rapist. Her strength defeated his brutality. Part of my mission in life is to debunk the mainstream media’s pro-abortion narratives that hate stories like mine. It’s why I created these new ads (see here and here) that share another side of the trauma of rape where triumph can and does rise from tragedy. I’m a firm believer in Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” And we can impart that strength to others.

Since I was a teenager, I wanted to meet my birth mom to just hug her and share how grateful I was to be alive. I wanted to thank her for the chance at life and the gift of adoption. My prayer, for so many years, was that she experienced healing from what should never be done to any human being. Back then, before social media, before 24-7 news cycles, before the internet, she wasn’t deluged at every turn with pro-abortion messaging. I believe someone had to have spoken words of peace, love and a sound mind into her broken soul (like the thousands of pregnancy centers, today, that love women through whatever pregnancy journey they’re on). I prayed that she somehow discovered that her birth son was able to love and be loved all because of her.

We can all be agents of compassion as we walk with those facing the seemingly insurmountable. There is help (here and here) for those who have experienced such an ordeal. Abortion doesn’t have to be inevitable. With hope and courage, it can truly be avoidable. And maybe, one day, people with origin stories like mine can turn on the TV or scroll through social media and be repeatedly affirmed in who they are: human beings worthy of life.