Photo Courtesy of Justine Browning
Oli knows. “There’s always room for love.” That’s a pretty wise thing for this once-naïve, accidentally pregnant 15-year-old in Ellen Rodnianski’s American Baby. And you need love most when you're in a confusing situation and don’t know what to do. But Oli lives in a conservative, Southern Baptist town in Texas. And love is not what she’s going to get. No. She doesn’t find any love here. Not in the name of “morality.” Yes. Morality comes first, and we see it “loud and clear.” So Oli (Abigail Pniowsky) gets a huge dose of what no one ever needs: name-calling, ostracism, “we know what’s best for you,” abandonment, and the worst kind of loneliness you can imagine.
Pregnant at Only 15
Oli is scared. It’s not only that there’s a war in Ukraine. A bigger war is going on inside Oli. A war of shame. A war of what to do. A war of confusion. A war of fear about what lies ahead, with no one to help. And nothing about it feels safe. Nothing. She watches the news. She looks at her huge belly, 8 months pregnant. She’s numb. What else can she do to avoid feeling completely alone? So alone.
So alone. Her mom (Janel Koloski) refuses to drive her to school. At eight months, “walking will do you and the baby good.” She arrives at school. Her teacher announces that Eva Reed, a senior, was found dead on the train tracks. She took her own life. Oli, an outcast because she’s pregnant, starts to shake and shout, “Why? I don’t understand what made her want to kill herself.” Maybe she does, somewhere deep inside. What it’s like to be trapped, with no one to understand. So alone.
The teacher quickly dismisses Oli’s feelings and Eva’s suicide as “God‘s divine law; I don’t want any of y’all wondering if some why or some reason had anything to do with this.” She says, “The only thing we can do now is to focus on being kind to anyone affected by the tragedy.” What does caring look like in a time like this? Is it: “Now let’s return to our classrooms and let’s pray that nothing like this ever happens again.” No. That’s avoidance. That shuts down Oli’s feelings. All the kids’ feelings and fears. That makes Oli swallow hard and put all her feelings away. Feelings swelling inside her, as big as her belly. As if prayer is going to do it and God knows all.
To make matters worse, and to drive home that no one is there for her (and probably no one was there for Eva either), the teacher grows colder. Calls her into the office. Calls her by the formal, distancing “Olivia” when she goes by Oli. Tells her she’s suspended. Suspended? How cruel is that? Oli is smart. Smarter than others. She says, “You know it’s illegal to suspend someone for being pregnant.” The teacher’s not suspending her for “being pregnant” but for “doing something immoral.” Oli retorts that she’s keeping it and bringing new life into the world. “Isn’t that moral?”
So alone. There is no help. Never was. She gets her things from her locker. On the locker door, someone has written “Slut.” Cruelty stems from misinformation.
So does one unfortunate mistake.
Naïve & Curious About Sex ...
That’s where it all started. No information. Misinformation. No sex education.
34 weeks earlier…Oli is with Miriam (Claire Capek), her best friend, laughing and playing together. Miriam can’t believe Oli likes Toby (Elisha Henig). Oli says it’s because he’s quirky. Miriam shows Oli porn and big penises. Oli laughs, innocently. Miriam has a boyfriend, and they “do it all the time.” She asks if Oli ever has, and Oli says, “No,” giggling. Embarrassed. Naive. Not knowing anything.
That’s because they live in a Southern Baptist town where sex is “immoral.” Even sexual curiosity, which is normal for all teenagers, is considered “immoral.” And if even curiosity is “off limits” to the adults who could teach you, you’re left to figure it out on your own. And. That has its own limits...
Of course, Oli’s curious. So before she and Miriam go to a party where Miriam will hook up with her boyfriend, Jake, Oli giggles innocently and asks, “Do you have any tips?” Miriam does (though not very accurate ones). “Yeah, be on top to avoid getting pregnant.” “Why wouldn’t I get pregnant if I’m on top?” Miriam shrugs, the know-it-all friend who is as naïve as Oli: “Gravity…” Gravity? Well, that’s scary.
So, yes, that’s how American Baby happens. At that party. With Toby. The boy she likes. The boy who likes her. The two kids who are different. Teased. Misunderstood. Locked in a garage. By the boy who accosted Oli. The boy she didn’t want. The jilted boy who turns on her. Bullies her. Yes, Oli likes Toby. She’s curious. And Miriam told her all about sex. Miriam’s had it with Jake. Miriam is her (misguided) sex education. That’s how Oli learns about sex. But not in any way, shape, or form (correctly) about safe sex.
Terrified: Where is Real Help?
So. The “Gravity” method (of course) doesn’t work. Oli is pregnant, and she turns to the only person she can: her best friend. Miriam’s sister is obsessed with avoiding pregnancy and keeps pregnancy tests on hand. Miriam takes one and gives it to Oli. This is 26 weeks before American Baby begins. American Baby: about growing up too fast, too suddenly, too cruelly, in the hardest possible way.
Oli’s scared. She can’t pee; she’s very, very nervous. She sits. Immobilized on the toilet. Her legs shake. She says longingly, remembering, “I think I liked our doll hangouts more than this.” Yes, for sure. She’s not ready to grow up. She’s not grown-up yet.
But when the pink line appears, Miriam turns on her for the first time: “How could you be so stupid?” Confused, Oli says, “I did everything I could to prevent this from happening, like I was on top. Gravity ... you know.” She did what Miriam told her to do. The only sex education Oli has ever had. She trusted Miriam. But Miriam, now higher-than-thou and unwilling to take any responsibility, says, “It’s not a precise science…” How would Oli know? No one in this religious town, growing up in the school they’re in and with the parents they have, knows how to be sensitive to anyone’s feelings. No. Not Miriam either. Who Oli trusted. Her best friend in the world.
In this town, people’s only options are to deny, run away, and get rid of “sinful” evidence. Now that Oli’s stuck, what choices does she have? Miriam suggests abortion pills and says she knows a guy who sells drugs. “Did you plan to give birth at 15?” Oli hasn’t thought about it, but she’s not keen on having an abortion. And this guy who sells drugs? He’s religious, too, and says, “There are things that are not allowed and things that are definitely not allowed. No. I won’t do it.”
Miriam suggests, “Maybe your mom will be nice.” Oli feels awful guilt. She knows she’ll ruin her mom’s reputation in a community that gave her a chance after an abusive relationship. She can’t do that to her mom. She’s terrified. Trapped. With nowhere safe to turn. So alone. But she thinks she still has Miriam. After all, they’ve been best friends forever. Miriam says Oli must go to New Mexico. It’s the best place for this. She’ll print out all the information and meet Oli at the bus stop. But Miriam doesn’t show up with the information or the money. Little does Oli know: Miriam's dad intercepted her; she dropped the pregnancy information, and he thought she was pregnant. Miriam is stuck. The bus leaves. Oli is more lost than ever. And more alone.
But that’s not the worst. No, not at all. The worst is being betrayed by your best friend.
!!Betrayal!!
Yes. Miriam turns on Oli. Yes, she’s stuck in her own ways, stuck because of her dad’s disapproval, and stuck between what is “right,” what is “wrong,” and what is “sin.” So Miriam goes to school with her dad, and Oli’s mom arrives too. “I understand, I understand, my daughter’s pregnant now…” Just then, Oli shows up at school and sees it all. And she runs away as fast as she can. As far as she can ... right along the train tracks where Eva Reed killed herself. Oli wants to get away. She wants to disappear. But there is nowhere to go. No way to get there. No way out.
Betrayal. By her classmates. Her teachers. The pastor. The Church. So alone. Way too alone. “Slut.” “Harlot.” Oli’s shunned. Ostracized. By everyone she needs. SO alone.
Bullies & Moralism: NOT Love
Sure. The Church preaches love and support. But is there any around? Not anywhere Oli turns. She’s surrounded by bullies. The kids at school... well, maybe they don’t know better. Sadly, they’ve been taught strict black-and-white rules about “right” and “wrong.” Even worse, the ones doing the educating—the religious leaders who speak of kindness, concern, and a commitment to always being there to care—are just as rejecting. It’s not the obvious bullying from the kids who tell her she ruined Toby’s life or call her every name in the book. But maybe it’s even worse, because they could help. They could make it easier on Oli and her mom. But they don’t.
Moralism is not love. There’s no room to listen when you’re stuck on how things are “supposed to be.” Oli’s scared. Oli’s angry. Oli’s trapped. She doesn’t know where to turn. Does anyone care? Is anyone there for her at all?
Desperate, Oli asks her mom, “What am I supposed to do?” “Give birth and raise the child to be a good Baptist.” Oli’s mom is stuck too. She knows what it’s like to be on the outside… from a country under attack and with an American president who sides with the attackers. But here’s a community that took her in. Included her. Made her feel part of them. That is, until now. There’s a fundraiser for Ukraine. But the female pastor says it’s better for them not to be at church for a while because people can be judgmental. She is judgmental. So Oli’s mom is ostracized as much as she is. And Oli feels so terribly, terribly guilty about it. Her mom is trying hard to support her and really thought the church would help. But they won’t help them, even though they preach being there for everyone. That is, everyone who doesn’t break their rules ...
And. That’s how an American Baby happens.
Oli is far from the innocent, sweet girl she used to be. That’s what betrayal and bullying can do. It shuts you down. It makes you retaliate against your best friend, want to hurt her, make her feel the hurt you feel. And even when that best friend is sorry and regrets what she did, you have no trust left. You remember. You see. You see those happy moments that no longer belong to you. Oli’s walking. That’s what she does. She walks and walks alone. She sees Miriam and her dad drive by, stop at a memorial for Eva, who killed herself, and drive on without speaking to Oli. She sees Miriam’s happy family in their backyard, having a barbecue. A family she doesn't have. A family she was sort of part of and now isn’t. Not even the Church family. She’s so, so, so, so, so alone.
Numbing Up & Toughing it Out ...
Alone. Judged. Shamed. Shunned. Oli hears voices in her head. Voices of all the harshly critical people talking about her. Fingers point: “That girl, that girl, that girl, that girl, that girl.” So Oli walks and walks, alone. Keeping everyone at a distance. She won’t let anyone see that she feels anything, even though she does. She knows what Eva Reed felt. What it’s like to want to kill yourself. That’s why Oli yelled out in class – with that question: “Why?” So alone. How do you make this kind of pain go away?
Not even her mom understands. Well, maybe she understands more than Oli knows. And she tries. She goes through the motions. But she has her own guilt. She ran away, came to America, and disappeared like Oli wants to. She’d saved money for a procedure when she got pregnant with Oli. Then Oli’s dad hit her, gave her a black eye, and stole the money. Oli’s mom knows. She knows fear. And a church that took her in.
Her pastor in Ukraine said the black eye was God’s mark, her punishment. And that’s how they were sent to America for a better life. (A better life in a trailer park? A community that rejects you when times get tough? When you don’t follow their rules?) Well. Oli’s mom is scared now, too. She’s a God-fearing Baptist who does what the church expects. That’s her only recipe for safety. But does it work? No. It keeps you locked up, terrified of making the wrong move. And Oli’s mom knows that all too well.
Oli kindly asks her, “You don’t think you could’ve found someone kind and loving?” “I didn’t want someone else to join our family. You don’t need someone else when you live with God.” Oli says (she knows better), “I don’t think that’s true. There’s always room for love.” But what if there’s no love around you? What if “Some people are too busy worrying about the next life to be kind and loving to people in this one?”
What is Oli to do? She has no choice but to toughen up like her mom. Go numb. Forge on. Build a steel wall around herself so rejection won't hurt so much. Not the bullying. The lack of love. The betrayal. By everyone. But even those seemingly steel walls can crack. And they do. Because they aren’t real. They aren’t built of sturdy stuff. They aren’t what you need. They don’t let you need anything - in American Baby.
So Oli feels “nothing” until her impossible feelings break through her numb walls …
Losing It: “Get Out of my Body!” (NO Needs)
You can’t stay numb forever, especially when scary things are happening, and you can’t stop them. You can’t disappear. And no! Oli can’t escape that her belly is getting bigger and bigger, and that a baby is coming whether she wants it or not. No one understands her terror of childbirth. Her terror of being a mom. Her terror of being merely a child herself, with no one there to care for her needs. Needs she hates. Yes. Oli hates her needs. She’s been abandoned. Bullied. Shunned. And Miriam left her when she needed her most. She hates needing anything or anyone. It’s not safe. There’s no love around. She doesn’t know what to do. Her head is spinning. She can’t stop the feelings. She can’t pretend nothing is happening. She can’t forget. And giving birth sounds awful.
So alone. Hating her needs. Oli’s mad at the baby. She freaks out. She’s got to get rid of it. She’s got to get rid of her needs. Babies have needs. Oli has needs. Oli can’t have any needs. She hits her belly. She smashes her belly into a table. She screams, “Get out of my body, get out of my body, get out of my body, get out of my body!” She’s trying to get all the need out of her. “Get out of my body, get out of my body!” As she violently crashes into the table, her mom sees her, runs in, and grabs her. “No, no, no, no, no.” Oli sobs. It’s guilt. For ruining her mom’s life. For ruining her own. It’s fear. It’s loneliness. It’s all the feelings jumbled up inside her: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Her mom grabs her and holds her. “No, it’s OK. It’s OK. It’s OK.” But saying, “It’s OK,” doesn’t make anything OK at all. Oli feels so alone. So alone. With no love.
Love At the Eleventh Hour
Oli wanders the streets. “I can’t promise I’m going to be your forever mom, OK?” Wandering. Wandering. Alone. She sees that Toby is back. He’s being welcomed home. And Oli? She’s on the outside. Again. As always. Outside their restaurant. And his dad? He tells her to stop bothering them. He doesn’t want his son’s life ruined over “one stupid mistake.” She asks, “What about mine?” “You should’ve known better.” Why does everybody blame her? He shoves money into her hand and says, “Now leave us alone. You understand me, right?” Oli answers, “You bet…” Yes. Oli understands being Alone.
The train rattles by. The train that killed Eva Reed. And that train tempts Oli. That train could kill her. It could take her far away. It could make her disappear. It could give her a new life. Options. Oli doesn’t think she has any. And Miriam wants to be friends again. But you can’t go back. You can’t erase what happened. You can’t forget the betrayals. And “You bet you bet you bet you bet you bet” rings in Oli’s mind. She’s used to being blamed, told she’s trash. That’s how everyone in this town makes her feel. Everyone who needs a scapegoat for their own lack of kindness and their own “sins.”
And that’s how an American Baby happens.
Yet. Suddenly. Toby shows up. He’s been googling birth, marriage, and abandoned homes, and he didn’t want to abandon her. He really didn’t. He’s even googled how to cut an umbilical cord. At first, Oli’s defensive and angry. She can’t easily let her walls down. Her trust is very thin. He left her (even though he didn’t want to). But... as she told her mom, there’s always room for love, and love is what she needs. Love is what she hasn’t found anywhere. Oli tells Toby, “It’s always good to have options.” She says she might choose adoption. And Toby says, “Whatever you want.” Whatever YOU want.
No one has ever said that to Oli. No one, in this whole town, in her whole life, or in this whole terrifying experience, has thought about Oli’s feelings or needs. That money Toby’s dad gave her? It comes in real handy. Two tickets to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Two kids trying to do the right thing. Two kids trying to grow up. And even if they have no idea what they’re in for, Toby is there for her. They hold hands as the bus pulls away.
Leaving a town that doesn’t know the first thing about love isn't a bad idea. Plus. This isn’t about running away. It’s about knowing there’s always room for love – love Oli can finally trust. Love that arrives at the eleventh hour, just in the nick of time, just when she needs it most. And Oli knows. She isn’t alone anymore...