Editorials / Opinion

When the story first broke about Susan G. Komen for the Cure changing policy and refusing grants for breast-cancer screenings to Planned Parenthood, I did not expect the firestorm that ensued. A 30-something acquaintance underscored the point when she said, glibly, "I didn't think anyone cared about this issue anymore."

I know what she means. If you asked an audience of news-savvy women to name the most pressing issue on their minds, it would be the economy. Hands down.

Women — and men, for that matter — realize that women's reproductive rights top few people's lists of what keeps them awake at night. Helping a friend or a relative find employment, or finding a way to pay a doctor's bill, yes, those are worth staring at the bright blue lights of the clock in the wee hours.

But the issue of abortion was there all along, and it took an assault on reproductive freedom to awaken it.

It is one thing for politicians and religious leaders to rail against women's rights, quite another when a group dedicated to women's health turns on a different organization focused on ... women's health.

The storm that overwhelmed the Komen breast-cancer charity was swift and powerful. The charity was forced to offer an apology and about-face within three days. In less than a week, a high-ranking official resigned from Komen because of her role in the dispute.

Let's be clear: No one likes abortion. But in some cases, a woman has no other choice. It is her decision, her life. In these raw days of economic uncertainty, with so much else on everyone's minds, a passive but delicate plurality of Americans support abortion rights.

The 49 percent who favor this choice (compared with 45 percent who do not), according to a 2011 Gallup poll, usually do not feel compelled to make much noise about their personal views. And that is the wise course.

But Komen's short-lived decision to cut grants to Planned Parenthood struck such a nerve because of the long history of the two groups working together and because of a sense — right or wrong — that most people working in the women's health field should be supportive of each other.

"We've been working together for 10 years, and they have depended on our network of health clinics to get to underserved populations that need to get that screening," explained Kristen Glundberg-Prossor, spokeswoman for Planned Parenthood of the Great Northwest. "It's not just politicians coming after Planned Parenthood. It's another beloved women's organization coming in and shutting women out."

Keep in mind that Planned Parenthood of the Great Northwest, as an example, spends about 7 percent of its funds on abortions. All the rest goes to contraceptives, breast and cervical cancer screening, sexually transmitted disease testing and treatment and annual checkups. In 2011, Planned Parenthood of the Great Northwest received about $75,000 from Komen to do breast health screening and education for rural and poor women in Washington and Idaho.

After receiving hundreds of emails and calls, the Puget Sound affiliate of Komen joined others around the country expressing frustration with the new grant policy and asked that the new rule be rescinded. Folks were most upset that Komen allowed itself to be caught up in never-ending pro- and anti-abortion politics.

Obviously, Komen does one kind of health work, breast cancer education and screening, which is almost universally acceptable. Planned Parenthood performs a wider range of services, including some abortions, which are vastly more politically divisive.

Everyone understands the difference. But I think Komen's decision went nuclear because women don't want to be forced to favor the work of one group over the other. Women rely on both organizations for different aspects of their future; both provide services desperately needed by people with no other option.

What is so maddening is that Komen, by creating a phony excuse to dump Planned Parenthood, forced women to take a side and they vehemently didn't want to.

Joni Balter's column appears regularly on editorial pages of The Times. Her email address is jbalter@seattletimes.com