Stevie Nicks has never hidden the truth: in 1979, at the absolute peak of Fleetwood Mac’s power (right after the Rumours tour made them global icons), she got pregnant by Don Henley and chose abortion without hesitation. “If motherhood had happened then, there would be no more Fleetwood Mac, no more music,” she said in 2022. “That abortion gave me the life I wanted; it gave the world my voice.” She frames it as a sacred act of self-liberation, the necessary sacrifice that allowed Tusk, Mirage, and every solo record to exist. To Nicks, terminating that pregnancy wasn’t a regret; it was the price of admission to rock-and-roll immortality, and she’s proud to pay it in public.

Fast forward to 2024 and Maya Hawke, daughter of Uma Thurman and Ethan Hawke, casually drops on a podcast that her parents had already aborted one child before she was conceived. “I wouldn’t even be here if they hadn’t made that choice,” she laughs, as if announcing she’s grateful to be the replacement model after the first one was scrapped. The message is identical: a woman’s career, creativity, and convenience must always outrank the life growing inside her. Two generations of Hollywood royalty openly celebrating the destruction of their own bloodlines as the essential enabler of their fame, art, and freedom.

This is the grotesque dividing line the industry draws in neon: normal women somehow raise children and still manage to work, create, and dream, but the goddesses of stage and screen insist they are too rare, too fragile, too important to be expected to do the same. To them, motherhood is a career-ending disease that only abortion can cure. The rest of us are supposed to nod along and call it “empowerment” while they toast the siblings they erased so the spotlight could stay on them alone. Their honesty is refreshing; their moral rot is on full, unapologetic display.