Abortion Gang

I have had a love-hate relationship with 30 Rock almost since the show’s inception. I love it purely because it is smart and hilarious, and the Liz Lemon character is such an unabashed loser that it’s hard sometimes to remember how conventionally attractive she actually is. There are so many things about it that I like, in fact, that it took me a lot longer than it usually does to start getting annoyed with its faults.

It was an episode a couple seasons ago that did it for me; you might remember it. In the first five minutes, a man beats up and decapitates a cardboard display of Liz, and Jenna gets a book thrown at her face. Then there is a truly disgusting “joke” involving Pete raping his wife in her sleep, which gets not one, but two visual depictions. All played for laughs. Because of various elements of my privilege I was able to shrug off some of the vile sexist and transphobic “humour” of the show, but that episode really crossed a line for me.

I keep watching it, and I’m glad I do, because on Thursday night while waiting for the (in my opinion) much funnier, smarter, and warmer Parks and Recreation to start, I tuned in to 30 Rock and caught an episode that not only depicted a smart, friendly and funny little feminist child, but also involved some nuanced commentary on the American economy. But best of all was a scene in which Liz Lemon told Jack, “You are being so transvaginal right now!”.

Immediately my Twitter feed repeated the quote back to me via about six or seven different people, not all of whom are reproductive rights activists. This is the true joy of 30 Rock for me – they manage to sneak in the kind of jokes that tell you that someone is paying attention, even if it is just Tina Fey or a bunch of nerdy TV writers. Sometimes as an activist you get so wrapped up in a particular issue, you start to lose the ability to tell how much the general public actually knows about it. Is it common knowledge that these horrible transvaginal ultrasound requirements (and other ridiculous abortion restrictions) are sweeping across the US, or is this just something that abortion geeks like us pay attention to?

Not that 30 Rock making a joke about something means it is common knowledge – obviously there is an intellectual elitism that is almost essential to fully appreciating this show (another thing that bothers me about it…but also makes me feel smart when I get all the jokes). But Liz Lemon calling a controlling, patronizing, uber-privileged man “transvaginal” – it’s so, so important that she uses it in the context of calling Jack out for being intrusive – is important. It means that if this isn’t something we’re talking about, it should be. Because a lot of people are being really transvaginal right now about our wombs and lives. Liz Lemon’s got our back.

I have been shocked the past couple of days by the response to Susan Heath’s opinion piece New York Times entitled “No One Called Me a Slut” about her experiences getting an abortion in 1978 and how easily accessible and stigma-free it was.

She writes:

A young woman has been called a slut after testifying in favor of insurance coverage for contraceptive care…It wasn’t always like this. This is a story of how it used to be: It’s 1978, five years after Roe v. Wade. I’m 38, I have four sons — the oldest is 17, the youngest is turning 12. I’m at school, getting a B.A., and I’m loving it. I’m about two and a half months pregnant. I don’t want this child.

It’s as simple as that. It’s 1978, Susan wants an abortion, and as a well-meaning, responsible mother of four who is using birth control, she gets her abortion easily and without complication, knowing that it is ultimately the best thing for her and her future. It’s 1978, Roe v. Wade was just passed, and anti-abortion lunatics don’t exist en masse yet; she is free to make a choice to have an abortion without stigma or the threat of violence.

It’s a great story, except for one thing. The Hyde Amendment was officially enacted in 1977, prohibiting federal Medicaid dollars for abortion and making abortion inaccessible for many low-income people. Before most abortion funds were started and with few other options, in the years immediately post-Hyde, people without the means to access abortion care were dying. Rosie Jimenez, the first women believed to have been a victim of Hyde, a 27 year-old mother and student, died on October 3, 1977, and there are more stories like hers. Although there are few deaths from unsafe abortion in the United States today, we know that there are still people in desperate situations selling belongings, going hungry, and not paying bills to come up with the money for an abortion; people who contact abortion funds in the thousands every year.

My problem is not with Susan Heath. It takes strength to write about your abortion anywhere, much less in the New York Times. Her story is honest and unapologetically hers, and I admire her courage to make her story public. While her story isn’t perfect, she is telling it as she remembers it as compared to the stigmatizing, traumatizing, protestors-yelling-in-your-face abortion stories of today.

My problem is with the way that our movement (and I say movement for lack of a better word) embraced the story and accepted it as the whole truth. One respected organization tweeted it and used #thegoodolddays. Another, again, respected organization tweeted it and wrote, “Never thought we’d say this but anyone have a time machine?” The good old days? A time machine? Really? The good old days for wealthy or middle class, feminist-identifying, gender-conforming women with the means to secure an abortion, maybe. A time machine for their low-income, non-white, non-US citizen, non-gender conforming counterparts? Hell no.

I’m not saying this to call out anyone. I don’t care for attacks; they divide us. And if you really, really care who said that on Twitter then you have probably already looked it up. What I do care about is questioning ourselves, and myself included, in how we talk about our history. When we say the good old days, whose good old days do we mean? And when we choose to tell one story over another, whose history are we forgetting?

Our collective memory is crucial to the survival of our movement. If we chose one story over another than we are systematically erasing our struggles and devaluing the legacy of the most important, most neglected individuals. We cannot forget that when we talk about abortion access, we mean different things historically, geographically, socially, and individually; and when we sit down at the table to address issues of abortion access, we must take a hard look at ourselves and ask who has been left out of the conversation.

If we don’t stand together, question our intentions, and make space for marginalized voices then we will never be a collective movement for change. If we don’t call attention to forgotten narratives then we are responsible for their whitewashing and invisibility. And if we don’t remember Rosie Jimenez, who will?

In the introduction to MOMENTUM, Dr. Joycelyn Elders declares that “the best contraceptive in the world is a good education.” MOMENTUM provides more of an open discussion and dialogue than an entirely accurate or comprehensive sexual education, but it lays much-need groundwork for these necessary conversations, it’s enjoyable to read, and it ends with a gorgeous poem. In these senses and more, it’s the best sex-ed book they never gave you in high school.

The anthology comes out of a conference I have never attended and now very much want to, MOMENTUM, an open space that strives to “embrace all elements of sexuality” and “create a safe space where respect and a willingness, not to always agree, but to listen with an open heart and open mind” where attendees could get their sex geek on and, at the same time, feel a tremendous sense of acceptance and camaraderie.” These attitudes from the co-organizers and no co-editors, Tess Danesi (I’m referencing her words from the introduction), Dee Dennis and Inara de Luna run throughout the book as themes.

Rebecca Chalker goes beyond the “sexual revolution” to identify work in what she terms the “pleasure revolution,” the “liberation” of the clitoris and of female pleasure from the “murky swamps” of male-dominated psychoanalytic culture (Freud was not kind to our lady-parts. I read him so you wouldn’t have to.) Ned Mayhem gives a similar, completely fascinating overview of the history of sexual science, complete with an extensive works cited. Also, his name is Ned Mayhem, which is just phenomenal, and it was very cool to see someone self-identify in their bio as a queer scientist who runs a couples’ porn site. For a queer academic with a fluctuating relationship to the gender binary, this sort of gem makes the book utterly worth reading. Likewise, there is something adorable about Bill Taverner’s detailed advice – complete with exclamation points! – for those seeking work in the field of sexology. Work like this creates space for a new kind of normal, for a world on which queer scientists can “Become a Presenter!” and “Get Yourself Published!” in the field of sexology and be concerned only with the quality of their work, rather than whether the work is necessary, or welcome, as those are merely givens in the utopic space MOMENTUM creates.

(more…)

Mississippi’s governor has just signed a TRAP law that may well shut down the state’s only abortion clinic. Like many TRAP laws, on its face the regulation looks reasonable and aimed at patient safety. Abortion providers in the state will have to be board-certified in obstetrics & gynecology, and will have to have admitting privileges at a nearby hospital. However, dig a little deeper and it becomes clear that this is yet another of many laws that have nothing to do with safety and everything to do with restricting women’s access to a legal medical procedure.

First of all, although the majority of physicians who provide abortions are obstetrician/gynecologists, any doctor with the appropriate training can provide abortions. Although national numbers are hard to come by, in 2010 in Minnesota, family physicians performed over 1/3 of abortions (compiled by @wentrogue). Surgical abortion is considered an advanced skill for family medicine residents by the American Academy of Family Physicians (Dr. George Tiller was a family physician). Medical abortion (using medications to induce abortion) requires less training than surgical abortion and fits well within the scope of practice of general family medicine. Multiple studies have shown that abortion care performed by family physician is as safe and effective as abortion care by obstetrician/gynecologists. (Some pediatricians, emergency medicine doctors, internists, and surgeons have completed extra training to be able to provide medical and surgical abortions, although the numbers are low). There is no medical reason to restrict the practice of abortion to doctors certified in obstetrics & gynecology; this move is clearly political and aimed at preventing women from getting the medical care they need.

Secondly, although on its face the requirement that a physician performing abortions have “admitting privileges” at a nearby hospital appears to be important for patient care, such a requirement is unnecessary and again only serves to decrease access to abortion care. Admitting privileges, or the right for a doctor to take care of his or her own patients in the hospital, are granted by hospitals based on multiple criteria. Doctors who do not have their own local practice or cannot be available to take “call” (to be on-site or nearby to admit patients who have no physician) may be denied such privileges. Also, because such privileges are granted at the discretion of the hospital, they may be denied for purely political reasons (for example, the fact that the doctor applying provides abortions).

Abortion is a very safe procedure; complications are rare. Complications serious enough to require hospitalization are even more rare, occurring after less than 0.1% of first trimester cases. In those rare cases that require hospitalization, a transfer agreement with a nearby hospital is more than sufficient to ensure that patients requiring a higher level of care have appropriate continuity of care. Doctors around the country perform other comparable surgical procedures (such as incision & drainage of wounds and suturing of injuries) without the additional burden of a requirement of admitting privileges to a nearby hospital. Only abortion providers are being singled out, and safety is clearly not the motivating factor.

This becomes even more clear on close reading of the law. Abortion is defined as:

“The use or prescription of any instrument, medicine, drug or any other substances or device to terminate the pregnancy of a woman known to be pregnant with an intention other than to increase the probability of a live birth, to preserve the life or health of the child after live birth or to remove a dead fetus.” (Emphasis mine)

The procedure used to “remove a dead fetus” is the same as the procedure used to perform an elective abortion. Exact same procedure, exact same risks, fewer unnecessary regulations.

Does anyone still want to argue this is about safety?

Guest post from Kat, aka @meadowgirl. 

May 2009 was the turning point for me as a feminist, a human being, an activist. Dr. George Tiller was murdered during a church service in Wichita, KS. Twitter exploded over the horrible news and my heart broke. People ask me all the time why I’m so “abortion obsessed” and my answer is: because if not me, then who? If I can’t find a way to speak up for those who are too afraid to, then who will? I managed to find my voice and a place for me doing what makes my heart happy without a degree, without having any real idea what I’m doing! I have passion and compassion- that’s all I’ve discovered are really needed in this work. I get asked how I got involved, how did I ever decide this was something I wanted to do- this is my humble story of my pro-abortion rights journey.

I am an activist. I am a feminist. I’m an aunt, daughter, sister, friend and best friend. I’m a white, cis-gender, unmarried, childfree 40-year-old woman who lives with her dad in South Texas. I’m a liberal, progressive Democrat who voted for Obama, whos mother died in Sept 2002 and frequently wonders, how the hell did I end up HERE?

It didn’t start out that way. I graduated high school in 1989- “the good old days” by many of my generation. We assumed much about women, our rights, feminism and our place in all of it. I know I did. I was proudly pro-choice, I thought America was the best place to live and the place to be. I was part of what I’ve heard called the Third Wave, we came after Gloria, the Generation X of feminism. I grew up just outside of Oakland, in what’s known as the East Bay in Northern California. I also thought I knew all about feminism and lady business and that we had rights–that was that. I read The Handmaid’s Tale in 1988, given to me by my mother and saw it through the lens of a confident 17-year-old girl who never knew a time where birth control was illegal, abortion wasn’t available and we had even had a woman run as Vice President.

I recently reread the novel before giving it as a special gift to my 18-year-old niece. It terrified me, turned my blood cold and reminded me far too easily of the daily news. Bombings, transvaginal ultrasounds, personhood amendments and fights over my fundamental right for contraception are moments that give me pause in my fight. I didn’t want to fight–I wanted to keep thinking that Roe vs. Wade means abortion is legal. It is. TECHNICALLY. It took the assassination of a doctor who performed later abortions to make me get off the fence. Choose a side and be willing to be vocal about it. I didn’t know what an “abortion fund” was until then, I didn’t know that the Hyde Amendment was still being used. Stupak-Pitts was gearing up during the ACA fight. I had no idea about any of this until the very end of May in 2009. It took the horrible unnecessary murder of an amazing person to make me examine my inner being and decide what did I want to be known as when it comes down to it? Did I want to be thought of as someone who sits by while my rights to my bodily autonomy are chipped away? I wasn’t raised that way, so fight it was going to be.

I never thought I’d end up decided that for my 40th birthday in last November that I would end up fundraising for the Lilith Fund, a local abortion fund. I found them via Twitter thanks to Google. Technology has enabled me to be a part of my world like nothing else. It’s brought the most amazing, life-changing and wonderful human beings into my life. I raised $500 from total strangers! My need to do something, anything was about more than money. My awareness, my heart and my belief in the fundamental rights of bodily autonomy and choice exist now like never before. I made a choice! I’ve never looked back and I don’t ever regret a single minute of my “donate to my birthday” experience.

I started getting to know different feminists, abortion rights advocates and just amazing women. It was perfectly accidental and I like to view it as the way it should work out. I didn’t know women couldn’t pay for abortions and that meant that women were basically forced to have children they can’t afford. I didn’t know that while abortion might be legal, it’s rarely affordable, accessible or easy to obtain. That women don’t choose abortion as a lazy excuse, that they don’t use it as birth control, they don’t steal government money to pay for them–that none of those scenarios are true, but so what if they were? What if a woman does just want an abortion because she wants one because a pregnancy is inconvenient? I never really turned inside and realized it was ok for those to be their reasons. Their reasons were none of my business but it was part of my belief that it was worth fighting for them to have that choice. Maybe a choice I didn’t want to make for myself. I gained an education on Twitter that wouldn’t have been possible in the halls of higher learning.

We talk a lot about “poor” or “marginalized” women, economic justice, eradicating poverty and equality for all. I’m poor, I’m undereducated and I’m a Blue in a state so deeply Red, the mainstream media rarely covers our reproductive rights issues. We want to help women but I’ve noticed that sometimes the more educated, well-meaning women forget that we are already here, fighting. I don’t have any money, I don’t have a nicely framed piece of paper telling folks I’m smart but I do have a big fat mouth and I’m NEVER afraid to use it. That’s your power, ladies. That’s how we include everyone. I discovered it wasn’t just women, it was ALL people who need inclusivity. I learned a lot of new words, a lot of new definitions of gender, sexuality, race, ability. I never realized that poor women are forgotten until I realized I was poor and I feel forgotten by “the movement” all the time. I pretty much shoved open the door of activism by sheer force of will and personality. I wake up to a world where I make my voice matter because I want to matter. I think if more “educated” women remembered their best asset is friendship, we could all fight this fight together. I don’t need you to validate me when I want you to be my friend, my fellow suffragette and fighter for injustice! I don’t mind how old you are, where you live, what fancy degree you didn’t get or where you want to go to get there. Let’s remember that we are all in this together–there is nothing that can’t be accomplished when many voices rise up for hope and compassion. Don’t ever let your “lack” stifle the voice that you were given and can vote with- that’s how I did it!

This posts starts with a story – the story of a quote I found one day that became the story of how I concluded that not only is adoption really hard and complicated as a process, but that the ways we have of conceiving of and talking about adoption and the process of adoption are in and of themselves problematic.

The other day I found what I felt was one of the most inspiring, moving stories I have ever read. It’s about Mariska Hargitay, star of “Law and Order: SVU.” Go with me on this.

Ms. Hargitay has two children, both of whom are adopted. However, in this article, she speaks about the adoption process and the early pain she experienced when trying to bring a child home. During their first adoption attempt, she and her husband brought a child home, and named them, clearly considered them a part of their family and were ready to settle in to a life together – when the mother of the child changed her mind.

When we brought my cousins home from the hospital, we had the whole extended family together, aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, and that moment of becoming a family was so special. If someone had come back and taken that child away from us, I can’t help but feel like it would left a hole that might never have been filled. It would have been so indescribably painful. And in the long-term, I wouldn’t have my cousins, and I cannot imagine that life.

But this is what Ms. Hargitay, who is now one of my role models, had to say about the experience of having the person who gave birth come back to reclaim the child she was ready to raise as her own:

“But … this is what I’ve come to understand about life: It was probably the greatest, happiest ending. I mean, it was so painful for us, but it was deeply joyful and deeply right for her.”

I think Ms. Hargitay is absolutely right. For the mother to ultimately be able to make the decision that raising her own child was the best thing for both of them is “both deeply joyful and deeply right.” I am of the (possibly permanently) childless variety that thinks having a child and/or raising a child is always an act of untold bravery. But I also think it’s valid to discuss the ways in which this decision caused pain for the couple trying to adopt. The fact that the decision caused Ms. Hargitay and her husband pain does not make the decision any less the mother’s decision to make. It doesn’t make it wrong or bad in any way. But it was obviously difficult and hurtful, painful enough for Ms. Hargitay to describe it and remember it years later. I can still remember and describe the exact process of adopting my cousins as well. Bringing them into the family was an emotional investment, and it involved a series of ups and downs. We were told one of the adoptions wouldn’t go through, then that it would, then that it wouldn’t – and then, finally, we brought my cousin home. I think it is good and right to conceive of a child you are bringing into the family as your daughter, your son, your niece or nephew, your grandchild – but it is incredibly emotionally stressful to then be told that no, maybe not. Maybe. Maybe not. Invest emotionally – oh no, don’t do that. You’re waiting for another child. This one is not yours.

This situation highlights something that, in terms of reproductive choice, gets a lot less play than prevention and abortion: adoption is really, really hard. Lately, as anti-choice rhetoric filters through our culture, you see ladies in the media who get pregnant and have “two choices”: keep the baby or give it up for adoption. Really, that’s it. Examples of this now-pervasive notion that “choice” means only the choice between keeping the baby or giving it up for adoption, with abortion never even getting a mention, include: most episodes of “Sixteen and Pregnant” (there was recently a beautiful and poignant episode highlighting the challenges of abortion, but we were excited to watch it because it’s so damn rare), all conversations about Bristol Palin’s pregnancy, anything on the ABC family channel, including “The Secret Life of the American Teenager,” and recently, most especially, ABC’s “Once Upon a Time,” which has incredibly problematic portrayals of motherhood, choice, and adoption all-around. All of these fervent claims that adoption is a primary option for pregnant people who cannot parent or do not want to parent obscure the reality of the process. And while pro-choice advocates often mention that the world is overcrowded and adoption is an expensive, raced and classed process to which not everyone has access, which leaves many children world-wide without homes, there are so many more dimensions to this decision.

Carrying a child and giving birth are no joke. While there are certainly situations such as that of the oft-critiqued Juno in which someone knows that carrying a baby to term and giving it to a loving family is exactly the right choice for them, more often the process is fraught with a range of less easily packaged emotions. Many people who give a child up for adoption want to raise them, but simply feel they can’t. When they want to raise their child but cannot offer them what they believe they need or deserve, it can be wrenching, and can certainly lead to feelings of inadequacy and resentment. Ultimately, what they are giving is an incredible gift, and more and more adoptions are very open, allowing them contact with their biological child as it grows up. But someone else parents that child, provides them with a home, attends school functions, spends holidays with them, and has a life with them. And that is an intense decision to make. Were I to ever get pregnant, my options are abortion or parenting. Adoption is off the table. That is not something I could ever go through, and not a decision my large extended family, whom I love very much, would be alright with. It wouldn’t be their decision, but I am close to my family, and in a decision so big, what they want does matter to me.

In writing this post, I ran into a number of difficulties. One of our abortion gangsters objects to the term “birth mother.” I use it because I personally think it’s a sign of respect. I believe that parenting makes you a parent, and gendering the process of parenting makes you a “mother” or father” – I believe that giving birth makes you someone that has given birth. But if someone has been pregnant or given birth and thus conceives of themselves as a mother, I would certainly be the last person to tell them that they’re wrong. I don’t really get to decide who’s a mother, or what makes a mother – but I do have to make decisions about how I will discuss these things from my own perspective, or we cannot open up these conversations. And then, for me, even using the term “mother,” in any of these contexts, is problematic, and I would prefer “birth parent,” since I don’t know how the person in question identifies. They may not prefer those gender pronouns.

What I am saying here, then, is that the process of writing this post demonstrated to me the extremely problematic nature of the discursive framework of adoption and the adoption process. And while all of the issues raised with my drafts of this post, and, I am sure, whatever issues are raised in the comments, were valid and had their own reasoning, I found many of them problematic as well, mostly because I feel like the discursive framework within which we’re working is problematic.

As a member of a family in which other members are adopted, passionately hate the qualifier “adopted.” I absolutely hate when people refer to someone’s child as their “adopted child,” their sister as their “adopted sister,” etc. No disclaimer or qualifier is needed. The word “adopted” is a way of making that relation other, different. As someone who has that relation, let me please tell you, IT IS NOT OTHER OR DIFFERENT. IT IS THE EXACT SAME. It doesn’t matter how someone became family, once they’re in, they’re in. In a way, I find the relationship between my biological family members and adopted family members even more significant and beautiful, because we chose and found one another.

This assertion raised yet another issue with the post – that being adopted is different. Let me clarify. I don’t believe there is a “normal” family, or a normal or regular way of creating a family, so I don’t believe that qualifiers of this kind, when discussing familiar relations, are ever necessary, unless someone requests them. Many of my friends refer to people as parents who are not their biological parents, and they require neither the words “adopted” nor “step.” If they prefer them, I’m happy to use them, but I continue to go qualifier-free until otherwise requested. This is not to invisibilize adoption or the other processes that go into making biological and non-biological, “normative” and “non-normative” family units – it is to instead suggest that all family units are non-normative, and each process of creating and living within them different and unique in ways visible and invisible, requiring its own set of challenges and negotiations. I keeping with my general concerns about the discursive framework, I believe the net-terms of “adopted,” “biological,” and “step,” when used as qualifiers in these contexts, may mask they many differences contained within these constructed categories, and lead to a false set of assumptions or understandings about what is always, contained therein, a universe of individual differences, samenesses, and experiences.

Another of our gangsters pointed out to me that in earlier versions of this post I used the phrase “keep the baby” as opposed to “continue the pregnancy” and “choose to parent.” I think these corrections were totally spot on. She also pointed out that I used the phrase “give up for adoption” when “choose adoption” might be better. There, my feelings are more complicated. Yes, “choose adoption” is absolutely a less loaded, and even, given the context, less judgmental phrase than “give up for adoption,” and for that reason, I infinitely prefer it. I am judging no one here. I think choosing to adopt is brave, choosing to parent is brave, choosing not to parent is brave, choosing to discuss birth control options with your partner so you don’t get pregnant is brave. In short, I believe learning about your options as a reproducing human being of any gender and making conscious decisions regarding those options is a brave and admirable undertaking. But I also believe that putting a child up for adoption is giving up the idea of parenting that child, and choosing instead not to parent, choosing that someone else should parent instead.

I believe, when it works out, that adoption is one of the most beautiful, amazing ways to make a family, but it is not foolproof. As it stands, to decide to give a child up for adoption, and to decide to adopt, are flipsides of the same very challenging coin, and not everyone can do it. That is why I believe a holistic approach to reproductive justice is so very necessary. It is so important that people be made to understand that they have many choices to prevent pregnancy, and then they must be educated about them, and given access to them. Then, if they do get pregnant, whether intended or unintended, they must understand their choices, and again, have access to them. And then, all of these decisions have to be acknowledged as taking place within already-problematic, raced, classed, and gendered structures of power, and those frameworks need to be constantly challenged and examined. We must move towards a framework in which all of the “choices” are structured with the ultimate goal in mind of creating loving family units, however traditionally or non-traditionally, however normative or non-normative those “units” might be. It sounds utopian, but really, how wild and crazy is it to want people to be able to make families?

I am an unashamed and vocal atheist and have been for a couple of years now. I believe that the atheist community is a natural ally to abortion rights activists, but it is an often overlooked community.

Over the past couple years, atheists, particularly in the US, have become more vocal and visible. There have been dozens of bus ads and billboard ad campaigns by local atheist groups. The task of these campaigns has been to simply let our presence be known. A recent Canadian study showed that the public, as a whole, trusts atheists and rapists about the same (shocking, right?). This study is part of the reason that there has been such a drive to improve our profile. The goal is twofold: 1) to encourage “closet” atheists to “come out,” and 2) to show the public that we are normal people, who just happen to believe in god less than they do. Most importantly, we are not trying to “convert” people.

Atheist groups are often engaged in dogged enforcement of separation of church and state. The biggest problem for abortion rights activists is that the church is continually interfering with the state, and many politicians are incapable of grasping the simple concept of their separation. That is what led to this photograph, which included three men in religious garb on a panel of five men debating whether forcing an insurer to pay for birth control violated religious rights.

If abortion rights activists were able to remove religion and the church from the political sphere, we would be much more successful in improving access to abortion and contraception. Planned Parenthood is under attack from the religious right. The religious right are the ones equating birth control use with promiscuity, and abortion with murder. In the atheist/secular community, there are more certainly anti-choicers, but when they pop up on discussion boards, they are mercilessly criticized. Atheists love one thing above all else – logic. At a minimum, the majority understand that legal and safe abortion is necessary to save women’s lives because without it, women will resort to unsafe abortion methods. Even if they would consider themselves “personally pro-life,” they understand at a minimum that making abortion illegal does nothing to stop it. They know that access to comprehensive sex-education and contraception is imperative to lower unwanted pregnancies. Atheists accept statistics and logic, and that is why the majority support all of the things that abortion rights activists support; abortion access, contraception access, comprehensive sex-education, etc.

By no means is the secular community without its misogynists. There have been a few major kerfuffles, the least of which involved many of the (mainly male) secular community backing up a guy who relentlessly hit on a lone girl in an elevator at a secular conference, despite her requests that he stop. And when she published a video about the incident on her blog, the community went ape shit. Fortunately, the prominent “leaders” of the community, for the most part, consider themselves feminists and they backed up the victim. PZ Meyers of Pharyngula, Hemant Metha of Friendly Atheist, and Jen McCreight of Blag Hag, to name a few, were vocal supporters of a woman’s right to say ‘no’ and to have that respected. Unfortunately, this is in stark contrast to the leaders of mainstream religious organizations, who are no friends of feminists, as we all know.

I truly am not trying to attack religion. I know that there are a great many religious individuals who support abortion rights, including members of this blog. I simply believe that the abortion rights community needs to work with, or at least learn from, secular groups. The secular community is very good at fighting religious interference with state business, and we need their expertise if we want any abortion rights at all. The state has unlimited resources to torment women, and the Republicans have not only spent 2011 pursuing their “war on women,” but they are poised to return women to the dark ages, with the assistance of the churches and religious leaders. We must utilize our natural allies. The secular community is just as motivated to keep the church out of schools and public office as we are to keep them out of our uteri.

The atheist and secular communities are the natural allies of abortion rights activists and it is time for us to cultivate this relationship. We desperately need the assistance of secular groups to keep government out of our vaginas.

Have you heard about the swingles? I didn’t until a week or two ago at a wonderful lecture at the 92nd Street Y called Running in Heels: Where are the Women Candidates for 2012–and how can we get more of them? Swingles are the single women voters who are poised to make or break this election season. We know that women more often stray from party lines than men. We know that women are more likely to vote for Democrats. Forget the swing states, bring on the swingles.

Eager to learn from a powerful and knowledgeable group of women, I listened intently to graceful and witty moderator Chelsea Clinton and the panelists, who captured a wide swath of society engaged in this issue from the captain of a rogue PR mission to a woman brought into the limelight from Rush Limbaugh’s latest idiocy. And learn from them I did.

Much of the unity among the panelists came from encouraging women to run for office as a public service, as serving others is generally very appealing to women. Though Sandra Fluke voiced the dangers of using this framework, it was generally accepted. And so I thought to myself is this why more women don’t run?

Only Sandra Fluke brought up structural barriers to women running for office to the table. A woman who wasn’t even supposed to sit on the panel originally, as two months ago we wouldn’t have known her by name. And so I thought, if the players aren’t addressing structural barriers, who is?

One fact from the Rutgers Report that folks across the panel kept coming back to was how women need to be encouraged to run for office repeatedly. Stephanie Schriock of Emily’s List followed this with a great anecdote of how she has mothers with young children who are contemplating running for office call Kristen Gillibrand or Debbie Wasserman Schultz to talk out the real life feasibility of governing and mothering. Now there’s a conversation I would like to a be a fly on the wall for. Maybe we need to take these conversations to a more public forum? If it can encourage one or two women to run, why couldn’t it encourage more?

But it was the declaration at the very end of the panel that really taught me something. The panelists agreed that it is the “peacemakers” who are to be celebrated. Those who compromise in politics are the ones that get things done. Now, I can understand the resident politician falling in line with this, but there was only one on the stage. Heads simply bobbled as “culture warriors” specifically working on issues like abortion were called out. This was brief at the very end, and the only time abortion was mentioned. It made my heart sink. One panelist went so far to say that women wanted to be “more than their ovaries.” Umm yes, we know! But they do have ovaries and should be able to do whatever they want with them, and actively need to defend that, thank you very much.

How can these prominent political players not see that compromise is important but not always the answer? Maybe they do but are afraid to talk about it? Is that why there are so few women in office? Maybe it’s that we’re not all compromisers. There are things one cannot compromise on, and those issues must be defended. How did we get stuck with Hyde again?

If you’re interested in Chelsea Clinton and Sandra Fluke girl crush material check out this great clip from the lecture as they discuss Rush Limbaugh as a common enemy. Want even more? You can watch the whole talk here.

Navigating the world of humour can be difficult when you’re clued in. For me, an important part of being an extremely privileged feminist was learning to stop making jokes at the expense of others, particularly about rape and sexual assault. Some humour seems so pervasive in the dominant culture that people think it must be ok (like prison rape jokes, or someone-you-thought-was-a-woman-turns-out-to-be-a-man jokes, hahaha NO). However, the more you learn about oppression and privilege, the more you see how pervasive racism, transphobia, sexism, etc. etc. are in our culture, and how they grow and spread through “comedy.”

So with that said, can we agree as feminists (and human beings) that jokes where the punchline involves firebombing a facility whose staff and clients are under constant threat of being firebombed aren’t funny? Just like jokes about women being raped aren’t funny? The reason being that they aren’t challenging or subversive; they propagate the status quo. Clinics get bombed. That isn’t humour. It’s news.

This post tells us that Mavis Mantis, who identifies as a “radical feminist” (the fact that this term has been co-opted by trans-hating assholes is a topic for another day…), made the following “joke” regarding the recent Planned Parenthood bombing/arson in Wisconsin: “If they were going to bomb PP, they at least could have bombed Toronto (after that horrible lesbophobic “overcoming the cotton ceiling” workshop.)”

The workshop Mavis is referring to was run by Planned Parenthood Toronto and focused on “…draw[ing] attention to the ways in which trans women are socially constructed as undesirable, and are denied full participation in queer women’s communities.” We can argue all day as to whether this workshop is inherently lesbophobic, which is Mavis’s (and other “radical” feminists’) contention (hint: I disagree), but to suggest (even jokingly) that it merits having the clinic bombed is offensive and frightening. As if the staff running that workshop don’t go to work every day with the threat of bombing hanging over their heads. As if the queer and trans participants don’t face the threat of violence and murder every day of their lives. As if this is how we “punish” supposed transgressions from our allies.

As a cis woman and a feminist, I reject and condemn such bullying tactics – that is pretty much the bare minimum of what I can do as an ally to trans folks and as a decent human being. As a person who lives, works, and accesses sexual and reproductive health care services in Toronto, I am frightened by the anger behind this “joke” and by the implied spirit of violently correcting perceived mistakes in the feminism and social justice efforts of others. And as a former clinic worker, I am appalled by the levity with which the daily threat of violence is treated by this supposed ally.

Here’s a thought: what does firebombing anything accomplish? I don’t think we can’t joke about firebombing things, but really, let’s at least be subversive about it. There’s nothing new or hilarious about saying you want to firebomb Planned Parenthood, because a lot of assholes want to firebomb Planned Parenthood. And it’s especially unfunny to joke about violently punishing people or organizations that attempt to offer support to trans folks, because guess what? Trans folks get threatened with violence pretty much every day of their lives.

Just because allies are thin on the ground doesn’t mean we have to accept any old self-identified feminist that comes along. As someone who believes strongly that trans folks, queer folks, clinic staff and their allies and supporters deserve to be safe every day, I strongly and unequivocally condemn any “joke” or statement from any person – feminist-identified or otherwise – that uses violence or the threat of violence against anyone as a punchline or something that can be treated lightly. My feminism is not just implicitly intersectional; it is explicitly anti-transphobia and anti-violence. Haters need not apply.

Yesterday the Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) of Texas held a stakeholders meeting for abortion providers in Texas to discuss new reporting requirements being issued this year. I attended the meeting and not too shockingly, DHHS had disappointing news to share.  At the beginning of the meeting there was general confusion over why a meeting was being held since, to the knowledge of the providers in the room, reporting requirements were not being updated as part of the new legislation. However, the handout given at the door, listed eight new reporting requirements that all abortion providers (clinics, private physicians, and hospital providers) will have to follow once passed.

The new requirements are additions to “Statute 139.4 Annual Reporting Requirements for All Abortions Performed,” which outlines all the specialized reporting requirements for abortion providers. The following seven provisions will be required to be on all abortion patients’ charts and reported to DHHS for each patient:

“(10) the patient’s highest level of education;

(11) whether the patient viewed the printed material provided under Health and Safetly Code Chapter 171;

(12) whether the sonogram image, verbal explanation of the image, and the audio of the heat sounds were made available to the patient;

(13)  whether the patient completed the abortion sonogram election form;

(14) method used to dispose of fetal tissue and remains

(15) if patient is younger than 18, was consent obtained; and

(16) method of pregnancy verification.”

Stakeholders commented that these requirements were redundant—if a sonogram is performed (as required in item 12), why would you need to confirm the method of pregnancy verification (as required in item 16). Concerns about why this information must be on the chart of the patient were also raised, specifically in regards to the form of disposal of the fetal remains. Another provider’s concern was that the language in 11 puts too much responsibility on the provider to confirm the patient has read all of the materials, something which they can not necessarily know enough to sign off on.

The above requirements are joined by an addition to a sub-statute of Statute 139.4 (above), “Statute 139.5 Additional Reporting Requirements for Physicians.” The addition in this portion of the statutes calls for additional reporting on the abortion complications (in addition to the reports the clinics must already file for abortion complications); the language of this requirement reads as follows:

“Reporting requirements for abortion complications: (A) Within 20 calander days after the date the complication is discovered, a physician shall submit an abortion complications report on a form provided by the department; and via certified mail marked as confidential to the Department of State Health Services; vital statistics…”

The language then expands on what must be included in the report specifically. Providers questioned what constituted a complication, what they would be accountable for in terms of reporting complications, and what this information would be used for in addition to the reports they already sent to the Medical Boards on complications. The DHHS personnel responded that the requirements would be an extra check on foul play by providers, and admitted they know it is an extra check on providers that would not be welcomed.

So, what does this mean for providers? Simply put the restrictions mean increased time and monetary investment in reporting on their patients and practice, and bigger picture, it intimidates small and midlevel clinics and hospitals from providing abortion care. This also enables the state to punish abortion providers.  A provider from a hospital commented, “I am concerned by these statutes because all they seem to be doing is diverting resources I could spend on patient care to reporting.” Another provider commented that the state is setting up more hoops to jump through and more opportunities for providers to be breaking the law, which would lead to more fines, investigations, and financial drains on providers. These reporting requirements are physician-specific, not clinic=specific, meaning that these hoops serve to intimidate doctors and facilities from providing abortion care; the more burdensome it is to become a provider and the more risk involved in providing care from a legal perspective, the less likely doctors and facilities (who may not be designated abortion clinics) will be to provide abortions.

The main question at the meeting was why are these requirements being handed down at this time? A question that the DHHS staff hosting the meeting could not answer in satisfactory terms: the legislator asked them to review the reporting requirements for abortion providers, and although they are not required by any statute to address legislative requests, DHHS decided to address this appeal and instituted new requirements. As one DHHS staff member said, “[The requirements] did not come down statutorily, but [the DHHS] has the statutory authority to do so [pass regulations]”

Basically, this is not part of any statute passed down, but is being pursued because the DHHS can, and the legislator said “please.” My biased translation: TEXAS LEGISLATORS OPPOSE ABORTION AND WANT TO INTIMIDATE AND PUNISH ABORTION PROVIDERS AND DHHS IS PLAYING ALONG TO APPEASE THOSE IN CHARGE. Comments flew about how this was undue and unfairly targeted punishment for abortion providers; DHHS personal’s response there was that all groups feel like they are targeted, abortion care providers are not special in that regard. The DHHS staff also commented that these were the first round of requirements, so hold on to the edges of your seats, pro-choice Texans, we’re in for a statute-full ride.

The statutes are still in the draft stage, which means all providers and stakeholders can propose revisions. From my understanding from the meeting and the DHHS website, the drafted provisions should be up soon, and they are open to comments until June 12, the day before a committee hearing on whether or not to pass the requirements. I did not fully understand where to send suggestions, but Amy S. Harper, Regulatory Licensing Unit Manager, Division of Regulatory Services, gave her contact information out at the meeting: amy.harper@dhs.state.tx.us or 512-834-6730.

My heartfelt thanks goes out to all the providers, their administration and managers in Texas as they implement some version of these new reporting laws this summer. Abortion providers deserve our support and thanks for expanding reproductive freedom and justice. What they don’t deserve: state-mandated punishment.