Abortion Gang

Those who know me may not be shocked to know that in my younger years I was a bit free-wheelin’ – I had a pretty “hippie” vibe back in high school, which has transitioned into a fairly left – some might say radical – take on most social and environmental issues even now that my hair is cut to a reasonable length.

My combined interest in conservation and lady stuff naturally led me to tampon and pad alternatives. In my early twenties, all the cool enlightened feminists I knew were talking about Diva Cups. I had already read about bleached tampons and toxic shock syndrome, and I also kinda hated the whole process of using pads and how much paper was produced, and the constant possibilities for embarrassment (come on, who hasn’t shown up for class with a pad stuck to their jeans?). So I was pretty excited for something new.

I did my research first, because $40 was a lot of money for me, an unemployed college student. I knew it would save me a lot of money in the long term, but “long term” has never really been a mainstay in my financial vocabulary. So first, to make sure it would be okay for me, I bought the disposable menstrual cup things. They look like a clear plastic bag attached to a livestrong bracelet – you sort of squeeze the rim together and shove it up until it’s sitting against your cervix.

I tried the disposable cups for two periods and I liked them. I bought the Diva Cup. And I hated it.

I tried, I really did. It was forty dollars, after all. I tried using it for three cycles, and then I gave up.

The problem was that I could never get it to feel comfortable. Now I know that I have an unusually long and narrow vaginal canal (thanks, horrible IUD insertion!) and a weirdly tilted cervix, I guess the problem was that I wasn’t getting it in far enough to sit against my cervix. When you’re putting something solid like that into your vagina you tend to get increasingly nervous the further you shove it, and I just didn’t want to push it too far. However, even now that I know that, I’m not sure I would want to try it again. When it comes to menstrual blood, I’m more on the side of flow than containment.

I couldn’t go back to disposable pads and tampons though – I felt like I was losing enough ecofeminist cred as it was. That’s when I discovered cloth pads. Wonderful, lovely cloth pads. Again, they are expensive – but you can use them for a long time, so you save money in the long run. And they can be messy, but if you are diligent about soaking them before throwing them in the wash, it’s really no biggie. I kind of love them. Also, they can be an opportunity to support independent crafters!

It wasn’t until a couple years after I gave up on the Diva Cup that I even said anything about it to anyone. One of the volunteers at the clinic asked me if I had one. Before I could answer, she started to tell me about hers – how much she hated it, how she was trying so hard to like it, how she couldn’t figure out what she was doing wrong. I was so happy to have found someone who shared this with me!

I really think that feminists have a code like any other group, silent unwritten rules that vary from chapter to chapter, and one of them (at least in the circle I was running with at the time) was that under no circumstances were you to badmouth any of the great feminist advances – the pill, the Diva Cup, etc. etc. Maybe that was just in my head, I don’t know. But I was so relieved to find there was another feminist (and presumably lots more out there) who wasn’t as stoked about this great device as everyone else.

The lesson, I guess, is that everyone is different. I would never go around badmouthing the Diva Cup (in fact, I promote it as much as I can – after all, most of the people I know who have it, love it), but I’m always careful to tell people who ask me about it that it’s ok to feel like it didn’t work out for you. The more people who are upfront about what’s not working for them, the more chance there is that something else will come along to meet those needs.

So if you are thinking about chucking pads and tampons for something earth-friendly, I recommend doing your research (either online, with friends, or if you have a local feminist sex shop or health store,ask the staff about your options), and considering what features you’re looking for (eg. how comfortable do you feel putting something inside you?, etc.) before committing. Your comfort and safety should always be at the forefront of decisions you make about your body, so don’t be afraid to take some time to choose.

Good luck and happy bleeding!

Abortion is controversial. There can be no denying it. Even here in Canada, which might seem like a bastion of rationality because of our lack of abortion law, things are not peachy for women seeking abortions. Along with the various legal restrictions (covered from time to time in this space), there exist many (if not all) of the same social stigmas and regional and economic barriers for women seeking abortion here as in the States.

There are two alarming American trends that have been picking up steam here in recent years: the video sting (a la Lila Rose, or James O’Keefe) and crisis pregnancy centres, those supposed havens for troubled pregnant folks, which more often than not provide false information about abortion and use scare tactics (sometimes toeing the line of legality) to discourage women from seeking one out. These are things that most people working in abortion provision are being prepped to deal with. Legal abortion is so fragile, even here in this supposed socialist paradise; you get used to being constantly on the defensive, even when you are doing nothing wrong.

I was a bit uneasy when I saw this piece about a CPC in Surrey, BC that was recently the target of the same kind of undercover video sting operation so frequently used against the pro-choice movement. A CTV reporter went into the Surrey Pregnancy Options Centre posing as a pregnant woman, with a hidden camera. She asked about abortion, and the volunteers at the CPC told her a bunch of ridiculous lies, exaggerated the risks, and refused to refer her to an abortion clinic. They even gave her an envelope of information that had “For a proud Mom-to-be” written on it.

To be honest, it’s not the worst I’ve heard. I worked at a clinic that had a CPC next door, and we heard stories from patients about their experiences there that would shock you. But the fact remains that while Surrey Pregnancy Options Centre is not the worst offender, they are blatantly lying to people and spreading misinformation about legal health care.

My question is, how good do we feel about being behind the camera? I met a woman at a NAF meeting who worked at one of the Planned Parenthood clinics that was targeted by the “racist donor” phone calls. They were fighting against backlash they simply could not afford. Speaking as someone who has now worked for a few organizations that struggle to keep unearned backlash and negative rumours out of the news, I can say that it’s not easy to continue doing good work when every move is scrutinized by the right wing and the media. Sustainability without putting staff and patients at direct physical risk is always a concern for abortion clinics; it gets worse when they are targeted by these undercover operations. If you want change, go through the courts or the government, is what we say to the James O’Keefes and the Lila Roses. If your cause is so valid and moral, why be so sneaky? Stay on the level, and meet us where we’re at.

…So is it ok that we are now turning around and using the same tactics they used on us? Is it ok for the pro-choice movement to start Lila Rose-ing all over the place? Why don’t the same arguments apply to us? Maybe because we are being stalled in legal channels; there have been small victories with regards to how CPCs can and cannot advertise their services, but for the most part there seem to be no repercussions for giving false medical information to anyone who walks through the door. There are a lot of factors at play when it comes to social justice and the complicated relationship we, as activists, have with the justice system. But maybe that doesn’t excuse being giant hypocrites.

From a strictly personal standpoint, I don’t think I can forgive James O’Keefe for his part in creating the media storm that brought down ACORN in the US, or Lila Rose for setting back worthwhile organizations trying to provide health care to low income folks. Because of that, I cannot condone the use of the same tactics within our movement. But I also can’t help feeling that I’m indulging in a false equivalency here. The CTV reporter only went in and recorded what happened. There was – as far as we know – no suggestive editing, and no particularly leading questions. Does that make it ok?

I honestly cannot answer that question.

1. What made you decide to write a memoir, and why at this particular point in your life?

This year is the 40th anniversary of  my founding Choices–I felt that 4 decades was a good time to look back and reflect on the history of my life and times. I also had lost the 4 people closest to me in the two years prior to writing–so that the process of creating a narrative of my life was therapeutic.

2. In your book you mention many times that a choice you made caused other feminists to critique or challenge your commitment to the movement. How would you characterize your role in the feminist movement and why is/was it necessary?

They did not challenge my commitment but felt that I was not “pure” enough because I was also “making money off the movement”–There was this thinking that one had to be a socialist to be a feminist–that being an entrepreneur -and a successful business person was antithetical to being a radical feminist. I never agreed with this–but knew that I could be a capitalist with a conscience– developing a business model that served the needs and interests of women–both as patients and as staff.

My role in the movement was and is multi-faceted–I took theory and put it into practice by creating and developing one of the first legal abortion clinics in the country–Developed the concepts of Patient Power–engaged women’s health care–defined abortion as a Mothers Act–was consistently out front on major political issues–debates–ectc–so in a sense I bridged the gap between theory and practice–by being both a provider and an activist.

I also see myself as a gadfly–pricking the consciousness of not only the opposition but of the pro-choice forces–always challenging them to go deeper and further in their thinking and in their pro-activism.

3. How has the feminist movement (and specifically the pro-choice/reproductive rights movement) changed over the last 10-20 years? Do you see these changes as positive?

In many ways it has been institutionalized–and as a result much of the argument is stale and far too responsive.–There is now more of an apologetic feel to the political discussions–In a sense it has become even more difficult to have “abortion without apology” because of the success of the opposition in placing abortion within an ‘immoral context” the pro-choice movement has to OCCUPY the ABORTION DIAGLOGUE AND THE DISCUSSION.

4. What are some of the challenges of being a single parent to a child over fifty years younger than you? What are some advantages?

Having to explain my decision–which was the most natural for me at the time that I made it.

The first challenge was to become comfortable with the title of ‘Sasha’s Mom”-which I met rather quickly. The next was finding my way after landing on Planet Parenthood- and dealing with situations I had never been exposed to before–but that was extremely stimulating–so it was also an advantage–and I would say that about all of it–that the challenges are advantages for me.

The challenge of having to deal with the reality that I will not live to see a great part of her life–is an advantage of keeping me living so much in the present–realizing and appreciating the preciousness of it all–and having to deal head on with my own mortality.

It is also a kind of enchantment–being able to play with Sasha and  her stuffed dinosaurs after coming home from the intensity of my other activities.

Fortunately I have the resources to give me the support that is necessary–which privileges me in relationship to so many other single mothers–I would obviously never be able to do my work and be a mom if I did not have great people around me to support this and I would also state that I love being a single parent because there is no negotiation with anyone else about how I want to raise and educate my child.

5. How did your own pregnancy decisions (abortion and adoption) change your relationship to the pro-choice movement?

It did not change it at all–just deepened it–I love being a mother because I could become one at the right time for me–so it just reinforced how critical that choice is for all women.

6. How do you think your marriage to an older man who was also your mentor gave you an advantage in your professional and/or activist life?

It allowed me to enter worlds I would never have had an opportunity to go into–he gave me  the love and support to fulfill my dreams without having to fulfill his.–And it allowed me to found Choices–to eventually own and operate the largest women’s medical center in the country.

7. What were some of the challenges of writing a memoir? Did you ever find yourself not wanting to write about certain things, or changing events to give them a better flow?

I start my first chapter with a quote from Wittengestein–”Nothing is so difficult as not deceiving oneself”Of course, it takes a great deal of psychological courage to look into your own mirror without flinching—I wrote out all of it–but edited quite a bit also–so there was a distinction about what I could and wanted to look at-and how much I wanted to share–but the book is a truly authentic narrative of my life.

8. What was the hardest part of running an abortion clinic?

Operating Choices is really like operating a midsize hospital–we see around 40,000 patients per year for a variety of services including pre-natal care–so the challenges are similar–hiring the best staff–meeting the stringent requirement for the regulators and the accreditations-insuring financial viability-insuring that each woman receives compassion and support for her reproductive choices–BUT doing all of this in a WAR ZONE–with constant demonstrators–death threats bomb threats–landlords that are attempting to evict you by not providing services–etc.etc

9. What is the most important thing you want to say to young feminist activists today?

Be Bold–Have Courage–engage joyfully in the struggle to change the world from what is to what should be.

10. What are your hopes for the world Sasha will live in when she is your age?

I hope it will be easier for her to live an actualized meaningful life as a woman–and I know that she will find that large part of that meaning in the struggle to achieve that for others–because the world changes very slowly.

*****

Check out my review of Merle Hoffman’s new memoir, Intimate Wars, at my blog.

Over at Slate, Rachael Larimore has written a somewhat convoluted piece, partially in response to Amanda Marcotte’s earlier article in which she explores the trend of touring “I was almost aborted” speakers. Larimore argues that pro-choicers are actually afraid of the “What if I hadn’t been born?” question because it challenges our supposed perception that “…some ‘unwanted’ children actually grow up in loving homes and become responsible, even successful, adults.”

Perhaps it is too much to ask that this belief can be dispelled by pro-choicers simply saying, no, we know that some “unwanted” children do okay. We also know that many women who decide to proceed with an unplanned pregnancy end up being fantastic parents. We also know that some adopted kids have great lives and contribute a lot to society. We even wish for these things, and try to facilitate the frequency of these events by supporting many things that help make them possible: accessible, funded daycare and childcare; the de-stigmatization of single motherhood; financial and emotional support for new parents; and on and on. Pro-choicers have a wide range of concerns outside of abortion (that’s why we call ourselves “pro-choice” and not “pro-legal-abortion”) – we would like to see pregnant people have access to all the information and resources they need regardless of their chosen pregnancy outcome.

Larimore thinks that we are scared to answer the question: “What if I hadn’t been born?”, but personally I don’t think it’s that difficult. Putting aside the fact that, had that one thing changed, an infinite number of alternate worlds is created, the answer is quite simply: “then you wouldn’t be here.” There’s a lot more to it of course: maybe things would have been a little easier for your mother; maybe she would have had another child later on, that she could have loved and cared for more; maybe things would have been worse for her, and having you saved her from going down a difficult road. Maybe someone more competent would have your job; maybe your partner would have fallen in love with an unstable person who killed them in a jealous rage, changing a lot of other lives; maybe everything would be exactly the same; maybe maybe maybe.

The reason pro-choicers often deflect this question as meaningless is because it is. There is no way for us to know what would happen if a different choice was made. The question itself is a shameless emotional baiting tactic that anti-choicers use in two ways: 1. asking it about themselves to make you feel like a jerk if you don’t care about them not being born, or 2. asking it about you to make you feel like you’re so lucky to be alive – as if you would even know or care if you had been aborted. “What if your mother aborted you?” the anti-choice protesters would hurl the question over the fence at us, back in my clinic escort days. “Then I wouldn’t be born,” we would answer back. What if the moon were made of blue cheese?

Everyone makes decisions in their lives without knowing how things might have been if they had taken a different path. That is part of being human. You can tell a pregnant woman what could happen until you’re blue in the face, but at the end of the day she can only choose one of two options – continue the pregnancy, or terminate it – and then she lives with the outcome of that choice. The pro-choice movement is not interested in the game of telling women what *could* happen. All we want is for her to be free to weigh those possibilities and make that decision herself.

Recently I put 33 minutes of my life aside to watch the much ballyhooed “180,” a film (sorry, “award winning documentary”) purporting to change “the heart of a nation” on the question of abortion (and no I will not link it). I got my hopes up a little when I saw that one of the recommendations on the website, from a John Piper, went: “I give my unflinching, joyful, trembling Yes to ‘180’.” Well! Sounds sexy, no?

No.

The film opens with the question: “Have you heard of Adolf Hitler?” Don’t ask me what this has to do with abortion, because I was still trying to figure it out after the interview subject answered, “no” (no?? really??) and old news reels of Hitler’s Germany began to run. You’re really winning me over already, guys. Godwinned in the first fifteen seconds. We then meet Ray Comfort, who is “deeply concerned” that a generation is forgetting about the Holocaust. It goes downhill from there.

Comfort seems to have rounded up a disturbing number of young people who either don’t know, or are pretending not to know, who Hitler was and what he did. This should be a documentary about the failure of our public schools. But it’s not. It’s about how if you don’t know anything about the Holocaust, you’re probably going to lack a moral centre and have lots of abortions. I think that’s what it was about, anyway. I spent a lot of the time marvelling at the lack of ability his interview subjects possessed for putting together a coherent argument. I feel that for those he has convinced to turn “pro-life”, there will be little trouble turning them back. You don’t even need a logical point.

What the film consists of is a series of “man-on-the-street” style interviews interwoven throughout, all conducted by Comfort and intercut with footage of the Holocaust, as well as ultrasound images (thankfully used sparingly). I did expect some gruesome fetus porn, because of the disclaimer about disturbing images, but it must have been referring to grainy footage of piles of dead people from the concentration camps (in which I was amused to note, the genitals had been blurred. Yeah, because that’s the image we need to protect people from).

I was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that Comfort did not have some revolutionary new argument against abortion, but instead used the same old talking points and ridiculous hypotheticals that those of us in the pro-choice movement have heard (and refuted) many times. It can be overwhelming to be approached on the street though, and if you are not equipped to answer those questions I can see how some people might find them somewhat thought-provoking, even mind-changing. There was a lot of “I never thought of it that way before” comments from the subjects.

The film itself is fairly well put together for what it is, although I am not sure who it is supposed to be targeted to – I can’t imagine it changing the minds of anyone who has given even the slightest bit of thought to their pro-choice position. Sample hypothetical (paraphrased): “I’m a construction worker. I’m going to blow up that building, but I’m not sure if there are people inside. I think there aren’t, but I’m not sure. What would you say to me?” Um…..do your job and check? I’m reporting you? Get out of my womb with your goddamn dynamite??

I really wish people would stop coming up with hypothetical situations they can equate to abortion. Can’t we all agree there is no equivalent?

Abortion itself does not come up until 13 minutes in, after Comfort has already badgered his surprisingly good-natured subjects about whether it is better to bulldoze a bunch of Jewish people in a pit, shoot them to put them out of their misery, or take a bullet yourself from a German soldier (I’m not even kidding). There were also some questions about whether you would kill Hitler, and whether you would kill Hitler’s mother, that served to show morality as shades of grey, only to have Comfort totally contradict all that at the end with a very black-and-white approach to Christianity – a dangerous position to take for someone whose Bible never explicitly condemns abortion, and actually implicitly condones it.

Here are some reasons why this film did not make me change my mind about abortion:

1. I do not believe abortion is the moral equivalent to bulldozing Jewish people in a pit.

2. I feel conflicted about being on the same side as someone who would say to a young, pleasant woman of colour: “Hitler declared Jews as non-humans, and that’s what you’re doing when you say it’s ok to kill a child in the womb.”

3. I believe one can be moral without being a Christian.

4. I have the capacity for rational thought and am not instantly converted to an idea by being berated by talking points until I break down and say yes so the interviewer will just go away.

5. If I label myself, I do it based on what I believe, and not vice versa. I will not change my beliefs in order to fit into a category (ie “Christian”).

6. There was a really cute, self-identified gay woman in this film and it didn’t look like Comfort was able to convince her, and I still want a shot with her.

7. “It’s common practice to have a low moral standard when we free ourselves from the Ten Commandments, or when we’re unaware of their true meaning.” No.

8. It does not, in fact, concern me that if I were to die today I might end up in hell. Mostly because I follow my own moral compass and would rather suffer judgement than follow the (in my opinion, immoral) laws of a god I don’t believe in.

9. I don’t want to associate with a cause that has to put this disclaimer on their video and website: “We strongly condemn the use of any violence in connection with protesting abortion.”

and…

10. I trust women to make the right choice for them, regardless of their religious or spiritual beliefs, I want to be on the side that trusts and supports women, and I truly believe that abortion can be, and often is, an act of love.

Sorry Ray. Better luck next time.

Recently I watched “The Fly” (the 1986 version) for the first time. I have had this film on my shelf for almost two years now; my reason for avoiding it was that I am obsessed with Jeff Goldblum and I was afraid that seeing him all gross and decomposing would make me love him less. I know how ridiculous that sounds.

The thing about being completely in love with Jeff Goldblum is that, unlike many other stars to whom I am attracted, he tends to, in general, make pretty good movies. I think this must be difficult as an unconventionally attractive person, particularly one with a very distinctive cadence, so it is all the more admirable that the Goldblum ouevre has very few misses. So I was fairly confident that “The Fly” would be good.

For those who haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it – but I also recommend staying away from this post until you have seen it; I know it’s ridiculous to post spoiler warnings for a 25-year-old film, but I do plan to discuss a plot point that I did not know about before watching and I just want to make sure you’re prepared. Also I find it tiresome to do plot summaries so if you haven’t seen it and want to keep reading, better start googling.

“The Fly” has been understood in some circles as a cinematic metaphor for AIDS, although David Cronenburg was reportedly surprised by this interpretation as he had intended the film to be about disease, aging and death in general. In the cultural context of the 1980s, though, even an unintentional reference to AIDS makes a lot of sense and the interpretation has stuck – even I thought that was what it was about, going in. What I didn’t know was that this film deals unflinchingly with the abortion issue and more generally with bodily autonomy.

What I loved about the abortion theme was that there was no hemming and hawing over the politics of it; it was simply a choice that Veronica needed to make, and once she made it even the slimeball ex-boyfriend was fully ready to help her out. If this film was made today I am certain that either the pregnancy storyline would have been cut altogether, or there would have had to have been some obligatory consideration of the “pro-life” viewpoint before she could ultimately go ahead with it. How dreary it is that we have regressed so much.

There are moments in the film that were so real, I felt as if Cronenburg (and Geena Davis) must have spent some time hanging out in the counselling offices of abortion clinics. When Veronica sees Seth in the last stages of deterioration and decides she needs to go ahead with the abortion immediately, Stathis reminds her that it is the middle of the night. “I need it out of me! Now!” she screams. What clinic staffer hasn’t seen that level of desperation before? I know this is Goldblum’s star-making role but I think Davis was note-perfect. Her whole story is a woman who falls in love with someone who changes, and becomes something different than she thought – whether from disease, or obsession – and when she finds herself pregnant, she has to decide how much of that man she wants in her life through the potential child. Also it might end up being a giant maggot. We’ve all been there. And Seth’s fear that the child might be all that is left of the pre-disease him…I have a friend whose partner died, and at the funeral his mother said to her (my friend) that she had hoped she might be pregnant, that her son might have left her with a part of him to carry on. This is a real thing in the world.

I was thrilled to find this plot in “The Fly” – it’s not unlike going back to rewatch “Dirty Dancing” and finding the abortion part, that I didn’t understand as a child, is actually amazing and realistic and integral to the story and themes. It’s not so much about films showing abortion as it is about them portraying it realistically. Everything about “The Fly” is a total mind fuck (this is Cronenburg after all), so finding this ridiculously straightforward, unquestioned abortion plot is such an unexpected gem.

Of course, after Veronica decides to have the abortion, Seth kidnaps her from the operating table and brings her back to the lab, where he wants to fuse himself to her and the baby, creating “the perfect family”. Holy social commentary, batman! At this point I may have been reading too much into it but I really think there is a lot going on here regarding not just Veronica’s immediate physical safety and that aspect of bodily autonomy, but also the idea of the nuclear family and gross antichoice dudes who won’t “let” their girlfriends have abortions. And the idea of marriage as a solution for unintended pregnancies. It’s 1986. There is a lot going on, friends.

Obviously there are a lot of themes interwoven throughout “The Fly” and it is not just a straight up horror movie, but I think bodily autonomy is one of the main ones and it manages to deal with a lot of complex issues around that, possible because it buries them in horror. It’s like Frankenstein! Or more contemporarily, it reminded me a lot of “District 9” (upon which it was clearly a huge influence). But it really can be viewed as a complex narrative of the abortion decision: the feeling of violation, the uncertainty about who the baby might be if it is born, the complicated emotions of the men involved, the urgency – it was all there.

Nothing delights me more than when I consume some pop culture that is unexpectedly feminist. And best of all, the makeup effects were so good I could barely even tell it was Jeff Goldblum under there, so my undying love emerges undamaged. Good movie night.

A book I am currently reading – about which I will say very little, as the plan is to review it on my blog – features a character who donates her eggs, a process our very own Christie is currently undergoing. In the book, the character is acting out of financial desperation, and sees the process as a violation of her “purity”, and a deeply shameful way to make money.

I am reading this book and feeling absolutely flabbergasted. Call me naive, but I had no idea that people feel this way about egg donation. I can’t imagine it being something to feel ashamed about. The character feels that she is selling her body, and several times in the book there is an implied equivalency to sex work (which I also don’t think is shameful, but I recognize I’m not part of the majority on that one). Every time she mentioned her guilt, the gift of precious life that she was selling, the child that could have been hers, I wanted to reach into the book, take her by the shoulders and say, “You know that egg would have gone in the toilet otherwise, right?” I mean one of her main concerns seems to be that she is a virgin, and this is damaging her purity. But it’s like, if you’re a virgin, you’re not actively trying to get those eggs fertilized, so what’s the problem?

The whole experience of reading this book, while frustrating, is not entirely new to me. I am constantly flabbergasted by the things that women (myself included) find shameful or are expected to find shameful in Western culture. Sex work is a perfect example. I have a friend who is a sex worker – we are not super close, but we go out for dinner when we’re in each other’s cities, and we exchange the occasional email. When I reference her profession in conversation (usually to tell one of her hilarious/weird stories about ridiculous clients), I get more judgment and distaste than I ever did about working in abortion care. But it seems pretty obvious to me how they are connected. Women’s bodies are, after all, public property (didn’t you know?) and therefore it is acceptable for any perfect stranger to judge what you’re doing with yours.

Sometimes I find myself feeling ashamed about the most ridiculous things, and then I have to examine that shame and figure out where it comes from. Why should women be embarrassed to be sex workers? To have abortions? To have miscarriages, for crying out loud! To donate eggs? To shave/not shave their body/facial hair? To seek egg/sperm donors? To be/not be sexually active? To be queer? To masturbate? To suck dick/eat pussy/take it in the butt? To use birth control?

I mean, it’s not stuff you need to bring up apropos of nothing at the dinner table – in fact, you don’t have to bring it up at all if you don’t want to – but it just drives me crazy that we’re carrying all this guilt about stuff like this, and letting it take up so much of our time and energy. But we live in a culture that makes it sometimes quite dangerous for women NOT to be ashamed of these things. It’s easy for me to say, stop being ashamed of your egg donation. But when women risk more than judgment – when they risk being kicked out of their families, churches and/or communities for any of the above behavior – it’s not so simple. We need to change the culture, to make it safe.

I believe the way to do that is for those of us who can, who have the privilege of non-judgmental support networks, to make a conscious decision to stop feeling shame for the decisions we make about our bodies. One person at a time, let’s make it ok to take control over our bodies and our lives, let’s transform the culture into one that accepts a woman’s right to choose (and if you think I’m just talking about abortion, you haven’t been paying attention).

My own mother’s advice is not to fight feelings. When they show up, acknowledge them. “Hello little sadness,” she says. “Hello shame. What brings you here today?” There is no need to engage these feelings; you can decide on your own to feel or not feel that shame or that hurt. The important thing is, where does it come from? Is it even yours?

I don’t know about you folks, but I have enough of my own crap to deal with. I don’t need to be taking on the feelings other people have about my choices. So I reject them and get on with my life. At least I’m trying to. And I encourage you to try to, as well–because loving yourself is a revolutionary act. And revolutionary acts will change the world for the better.

Recently, I left my job in abortion care. Although I have a social justice, nonprofit, world-saving job that I love now, I miss the clinic, as I knew I would. I knew I would miss my coworkers of course, and the patients and their amazing stories. But what I didn’t realize was what a huge part of my identity it was. I had grown complacent in the knowledge that working in an abortion clinic was a noble act (instead of a privilege), and that my work was what defined me as an activist. Since leaving, I have had to have some serious, soul-searching conversations with myself about what truly constitutes activism, and how to continue and expand my fight for reproductive justice.

I feel that I have not given enough credit during my time in the movement to those who work outside of the clinics and advocacy organizations, who are reproductive justice freedom fighters on top of their day jobs. Unpaid activists who truly act out of the goodness of their hearts. And now that I no longer work in abortion care, it is no longer assumed that I care deeply about reproductive justice – I have to prove that I want it through my unpaid actions.

For my own benefit and for others like me, I have written the following list of how those of us with little time, money and energy to spare can be everyday heroes and activists.

1. Support a friend through a pregnancy.
When a friend tells you she is pregnant, be there for her. There is no need to be overbearing, but just let her know that you are there every step of the way if she needs you. If she decides to terminate, offer to go with her to the clinic, and check in with her afterwards. If she is continuing the pregnancy, ask her what she needs – time, ice cream, someone to hold back her hair, space. And when the baby comes, be a supporter, a babysitter, a researcher of daycare options, if that’s what she wants/needs. Show through your love and trust of the women in your life that women are worthy of love and trust.

2. Be a safe sex educator to your friends.
I know there is somewhere in your area where you can get free condoms. Go get some, and give them out to your friends. Keep a dish in your bathroom with a “help yourself!” sign on it for visitors. Hand them out relentlessly. Ask your friends what method of birth control they are using. Educate yourself and be a source of information and support. Use whatever you have up your sleeve – an air of compassion, a sense of humour – to make it ok to talk openly about sex around you.

3. Volunteer at your local clinic.
Always contact a clinic first and find out what they need. Most clinics do not need counter-protesters; they make patients nervous and incite anger. See if you can be a clinic escort: usually it’s a weekly commitment of a couple hours, and you will be directly helping women accessing sexual health services. Some clinics need other support – people to drive patients from the airport or neighbouring towns; people to host out-of-town patients overnight; people to answer phones or stuff envelopes. If you have the time to give to make yourself useful at a clinic, I promise you it will go far and be very much appreciated.

4. Lead a creative resistance.
If you are a creative person, create something. Write a letter to your representative or to the newspaper; write a blog; paint, write poetry, build a sculpture; do something big and amazing and thought-provoking or something small and quiet and cathartic. Sometimes the challenge of the movement can be so frustrating and make you so angry and sad and lost; express yourself. Often art has a way of reaching others and clarifying the issue in a way that simple explanations cannot.

5. Be an ally.
Who are the people in your community who are suffering most from the lack of access to reproductive healthcare services? Find out what they have to say. Figure out a way to use what privilege you have to be of service. This is a hard one, and a longterm thing. You will screw up. But it’s worth the effort.

6. Learn.
In whatever spare time you have, read about reproductive justice, and ask questions. Talk to people, whoever you can access – doctors, nurses, friends who have had abortions, friends who have had babies, doulas, midwives, your mother, your partner. Read blogs and articles. Inform yourself as much as possible; put yourself in a position of being able to speak to this issue and to help and support and inform the people around you. Knowledge is power.

7. Love.
I feel that this is at the root of it – true activism is an act of love. Never forget why we fight for access and the health and lives of our sisters. If we live every day and act out of love, we can’t lose. When in doubt, follow your heart.

Please feel free to comment with your own ideas and suggestions. Remember, the revolution will not be funded; we all have to keep in mind that service provision, while good and essential work, is only one piece of the puzzle. The battle will be won by the small, everyday acts of resistance that all of us can do.

I would like to turn your attention to an excellent recent article in the Toronto Star about women who choose to have tubal ligations. It is a great piece and I urge you to read the whole thing, but here’s the part that sums it up for me:

“To [Sarah] Lawrance, tubal ligations are a matter of control and autonomy. And while people have their own opinions, that choice should belong to the woman alone.

‘You need to let people make their own decisions about how to lead their lives,’ she says. ‘Even if you think they’re wrong.’”

I love that this issue is getting some attention. It is one thing to be childfree by choice, which is a movement that is building momentum, and it is another to want to physically, permanently prevent pregnancy. In my experience, many people who are perfectly supportive of the former tend to recoil at the thought of the latter, especially if, as the article mentions, the woman in question is under 30 or hasn’t had children, or both.

I am 27. I recently had an IUD inserted. If I thought there was any chance of a doctor performing a tubal ligation on me, I would have had that done instead, but honestly I didn’t even try. I know at my age, with no children, there wouldn’t be a chance. I was recently talking to a coworker who has had four children (one stillborn), and who is now trying to have a tubal ligation. Her doctor reluctantly provided her with the referral, but not before grilling her at length about how she would react to every possible situation that might make her want more children, such as one of her children dying (“Been there, done that” she says bitterly), or the breakup of her relationship (I’m not sure how that would make someone want more children, but okay). It was only because of her previous deliveries and the fact that she had the consent of her long-term partner that the doctor allowed her to go ahead.

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