Abortion Gang

Today I dropped off half a dozen protest signs that I had made 2 years ago at the home of a woman I know loosely from the pro-choice movement. I had “advertised” that the signs were free to a good home because my full-time job prevents me from attending protests these days. They were well made and in good shape and I wanted them to be used. She joked that attending pro-choice protests was her “retirement job.” I was about to reply that I hoped I had a retirement job as awesome as protesting, but I stopped myself.

In 40-odd years when I retire, I do not want there to be a need for me to protest. I want a abortion rights to be so ingrained in our culture that I can sit back and enjoy my retirement. The thought that in 40 years that may not be the case is absolutely horrifying. How much longer can we continue to fight for abortion rights? It has already been decades and some days it feels as we are moving backwards, particularly in the United States, where abortion bans continue to apply to earlier and earlier pregnancies, and involve increasingly onerous hurdles for women. Here in Canada, backbench CPC MPs continue to hide abortion bans by touting them as bills to “protect” women, including sex-selection abortion bills. Despite the Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, stating emphatically that the abortion debate would not be re-opened while he is Prime Minister, I cannot recall a more active time for abortion-restricting bills than the last few years. So far they have all been unsuccessful because our pro-choice community ruthlessly attacks the underlying premise of each of them, but how long must we continue?

How much longer will we have women (and men) who retire to spend their free time protesting events all over the province? These are the men and women who remember when women were dying from botched abortions, many who actually knew somebody who died. What will happen when the only activists remaining are those who were not alive when there were wards designated to care for women dying from a back alley abortion? I am certainly not suggesting that the activists who do not remember those days are any less committed, but the women and men who do remember those days will most certainly pass away before my generation retires and has time to attend protests full-time.

In 40 years, my Canada will be one where a woman’s inalienable right to choice will be questioned by so few in society that they are dismissed as whackos. In 40 years my Canada will be one where youth have never attended at a pro-choice rally because it was unnecessary; because women have had the undeniable right to abortion for so long that they do not recall a time when it was in dispute, just as I do not recall a time when it was illegal. In 40 years, when I retire, my Canada will be pro-choice.

Recently, because I am an idiot, I agreed to go on a Christian television talk show and “debate” a well-known national (Canadian) newspaper columnist on the relative merits of MP Mark Warawa’s proposed Motion 408, which would “condemn discrimination against females occurring through sex-selective pregnancy termination”.

One of the many things that really bugs me about this motion is that Warawa doesn’t even want a change in the law; he just wants the Government of Canada to condemn this particular choice. It’s unclear what form this official snubbing would take, but the idea that people would want to simply codify our disapproval, as a nation, of this choice is almost worse than just making it illegal (in principle, anyway).

The talk show experience was an absolute gong show, but that’s another story. What really surprised me was my debate opponent’s perfectly clear and confident assertion that sex-selective abortion was the immigrant community’s problem, and that it is our duty as Canadians to teach them Canadian values like gender equality. After I was done sputtering in shock at the explicit xenophobia, I managed to respond that we do not, in fact, value gender equality in Canadian society. Both my debate opponent and the host of the show seemed genuinely shocked that I would believe such a thing.

The whole exchange was so strange, so surreal. I felt very conscious that I had said something impolite – that it was uncivilized to talk about gender inequality in Western culture, just as it was uncivilized to engage in sex-selective abortion. We must greet such transgressions with the very strongest, WASPish disapproval we can muster. I am certain that the two very civilized ladies sitting on that set with me would not have opposed a motion to condemn speaking up out of turn to accuse one’s elders of obliviousness to inequality.

I feel the historical context of the word “uncivilized” perfectly encompasses the mindset behind wishing to condemn a practice that is mostly carried out, in this country anyway, by women of Southeast Asian origin. Being civilized has been a cage both for women – in the way we are expected to behave – and for people of colour, in the way their cultures do or do not align with Western standards of order and propriety. A civilized society does not speak about vulgar things like sexuality or reproduction. A civilized person does not veer from the path prescribed to her based on her station in life.

I am thinking about this because in North Dakota, Republican Rep. Bette Grande – the prime sponsor of a bill banning abortion based on genetic defects and gender selection – said that such abortions have “no place in civilized society”.

I wonder about civilized society. Is a society civilized, that cedes control of women’s bodies to the government? To be civilized, must a society force women to carry to term pregnancies they do not want, of children whose needs they cannot afford to meet, without providing a sufficient social safety net to facilitate care for those children? Does a civilized society include poverty? If it does, does that mean it also excludes talking about it?

Can one even talk about what makes a civilized society without being, oneself, somewhat uncivilized?

The positive connotation of “civilization” to many of us is progress. Surely a civilized society would abhor the enslavement of its citizens, in body or spirit. Surely a civilized society demands forward movement.

Surely a civilized society can do better.

I’ve been having some ABSURD women’s rights dreams lately, you guys. All of this legislature must be making me go a little off the deep end. Listen to this most recent dream:

I wake up in a hospital bed, in a gown, with my boyfriend. I have no idea what is going on and I’m a little disoriented. A nurse comes in a tells me that the doctor is almost ready for me, and that the anesthetist will be in soon. My boyfriend, concerned, looks at me and asks “Are you sure you want to do this?” He looks devastated. My first thought is that I’m pregnant and having an abortion, but that doesn’t seem right. I ask the nurse who comes in shortly thereafter what I’m in for, and she tells me that I’m there to have my ovaries removed. She makes it seem like it’s been state-mandated and “for my own good” (sounds kind of like mandatory waiting periods and trans-vaginal ultrasounds…

My boyfriend and I are panic-stricken (though why he’s suddenly this way, in retrospect, makes no sense… he knew all along… oh well, dreams). I’ve got an IV in, and I’m hooked up to some machines, but I’m suddenly looking for a way out, not just of the room, but out of the damn hospital. I’m trying to get up, but nurses keep coming in and “checking on me.” In my dream, I think they’re spying. I can’t find a way out, and my boyfriend can’t keep them out of the room long enough. Eventually the anesthetist comes in and puts something in my IV. I’m getting really sleepy, but I keep fighting it. I’m just trying to formulate a plan so that they can’t take my ovaries, but I can’t think straight.

The nurses are wheeling me down the hall to the operating room. They’re trying to be encouraging, telling me that I’m brave, but I’m not feeling like this is a choice, so nothing is brave about it. I’m placed in the OR and am waiting around for a few minutes, and while my thoughts are screaming to get out of there, my body can’t move. Finally, the doctor comes in and introduces himself. He seems nice, as he asks me to count backwards from 10. I tell him I don’t want to do this, but he just keeps asking me to count down. Finally, totally miserable but resigned to my fate, as it seems like I have no other options, I close my eyes and say “ten.” Then, thank god, I wake up. I gasped myself awake, and woke the boyfriend up as well.

What a terrifying dream.

I live in a state that doesn’t make access 100% easy, but it’s certainly not impossible to get an abortion. My insurance covers it, and the co-pay is even really low. I think that this dream, for me, was my pain for people in North Dakota or Ohio spilling over. I can’t even imagine what being forced to carry to term, regardless of choice, fetal anomalies and other factors notwithstanding, would do to me. The misery and fear I experienced in a dream alone was enough to wake me, gasping and terrified. Living that reality would be horrific.

Sign the petition calling for a reversal of the newly-approved personhood laws in North Dakota here.

Dear Gov. Dalrymple,

As someone who has lived in and loves North Dakota, I am appalled that the state legislature would approve such barbaric legislation and I can only hope that you will see that so severely limiting access to abortion not only hurts women and their families but their communities and your state as a whole.

One in three American women have an abortion in there lifetime. In North Dakota that’s over 115,000 women. To be fair North Dakota has has a slightly lower rate of abortions than the rest of the US, so it would be a bit fewer but we are still talking 100,000 voters in a state of not even 700,000 people and that is something to think about.

Women in North Dakota must already go to the ONE abortion provider in the entire state and undergo a 24-hour waiting period before seeking an abortion. It is not easy to get an abortion in North Dakota as it is, and yet the legislature wants to restrict it further.

Remember Ohio’s heartbeat bill last year? Remember how it failed, and the reaction? Do you really want to be that historic first who for years will be haunted as a political heretic?

As women start having their families later they are at greater risk of fetal anomalies, and we know this change is no hurry to be reversed, it is medically inappropriate to limit access to abortions in case of fetal anomaly or birth defect. It should not be up to a legislature but clinicians, namely the one abortion provider in all of North Dakota.

Now, I want you to think about your four daughters. I want to return to the fact that one in three American women will have an abortion in their lifetime. That includes, in all likelihood one of your daughters. What would happen if she discovered a pregnancy after five weeks? Do you want her to have to travel out of state? Would that maybe be more traumatic for her?

Think about it.

Sincerely,

Nicole

If you’d like to share your own letter with Gov. feel free to crib any of my language above, you can reach him at @DalrympleforGov, 701-328-220, or here.

This fall I’m entering a Master of Social Work program, stepping down from my job in reproductive health, and stepping back from other reproductive justice activities. With this transition comes some sadness about being removed from reproductive health, rights, and justice circles and people who have become my allies and friends. The people who I have met over the past few years have provided constant inspiration and support and have challenged me to become a better activist and person. Not engaging with them or the issues I’m passionate about on a daily basis makes me feel like I’m losing something important.

But why do I feel this way, and why does it feel so different from the other transitions I’ve undergone thus far? Maybe it’s because I’m 25 and any life transition is going to feel this way. Or maybe it’s because I am so passionate about abortion access and reproductive justice that taking a break from that feels especially unsettling.

Maybe it’s that the next part of my life is uncertain, and that I’m not sure how reproductive justice activism will fit into it.

If I’m not actively doing activist work, does that mean that I am no longer an activist? What does being an activist even mean? I don’t envision myself as a person who will stop talking, writing, or making art about abortion rights or health care access, but maybe I will. Maybe I will take steps back as I grow older. Maybe I will spend time planning my wedding, learning, and having new experiences.

My hope however, is that no one like me will stop being a reproductive justice activist. Not until we live in a different world where everyone has the ability to plan and space their pregnancies and parent with means, support, and dignity.

That’s why I have all of you, my online Abortion Gang community. No matter what else I’m doing in my daily life, I have this community to speak and engage with, to feel connected to, and to talk about the issues that we care about. And as a social worker, I am going to be doing justice-oriented work that matters. It might not be what I’m doing now, but it will be something that will make a difference.

The next few years will bring challenges and growth, and that must be what life and activism are about. My work will become more intersectional and I will have another frame to see things. I will bring social work to my activism and activism to my social work. I will find new things that I want to do and new communities to be a part of. I will blog more, but I won’t give up talking or fighting. I will make mistakes. I will discover what it means to care so much, although I may never figure it out completely. And I will find a new ways to dedicate my heart to my work.

There had been black smoke for days, a signal from the conclave of cardinals that they had yet to decide the new leader of the Catholic Church. Yesterday morning as those of us on the west coast were heading to work, reports came in that white smoke now billowed from the Sistine chapel, a new pope had been chosen.

Meet Jorge Bergogolio, the archbishop of Buenos Aires, now known as Pope Francis I . As the Bishop of Argentina, he opposed Argentina’s leadership on birth control access, he is anti-abortion, anti-condom, and anti-LGBT* rights. A new pope, but no new policies. As he enters the papacy, he has a host of scandals and abuse issues to address.

those problems included reforming the Roman Curia, handling the pedophilia crisis and cleaning up the Vatican bank, which has been working to meet international transparency standards.

Pope Francis is the first Pope from the Americas, and it is said that his election indicates the Catholic Church’s focus on the global south. He grew up in Argentina as the son of Italian immigrants and studied to be a chemist. He has been known for his love and constant study of philosophy. On first look, he may appear a fresh choice for the Church. Upon closer inspection it is clear that the new Pope is more of the same.

For women and families in the global south, new efforts from a conservative Pope Francis’ church could spell disaster. The Catholic Church has previously denounced spreading information about wearing condoms, and have resisted calls to widen access to contraception in poor countries. With the election of this new, more conservative, Pope, all hope that the Church may change their ideology is lost.

While he is known for modernizing an Argentinian church considered to be among the most conservative in Latin America, he is also known for his strict views on morality — having staunchly opposed same-sex marriage, contraception and abortion.

He has called adoption by gay parents a form of discrimination against children — a stance that was publicly criticized by Argentinian President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner.

There you have it, more of the same. And while the new Pope is renowned for his HIV /AIDS work and his outward showing of compassion for the poor, his policies are no less hateful.

In this week’s edition of Totally Not Surprising News: restricting access to abortion services makes women upset, doesn’t change their mind about having an abortion.

Abortion activists have known for a while now that bills that require waiting periods and mandatory sonograms, including trans vaginal ultrasounds, don’t change the minds of women seeking an abortion. A recently released study from the University of Texas Austin, University of Alabama Birmingham, and Ibis Reproductive Health reveals that 1/3 women felt upset after mandatory waiting periods and increased regulations. A gross majority of women reported that forced waiting periods and ultrasounds did not change their mind.

But that’s okay, these committed conservative lawmakers keep passing laws that restrict access to abortion because Jesus and God and Guns and Fetus and Sanctity of Life, but not the sanctity of women that are living and poor children and women of color because that would be SOCIALISM.

The study suggests that waiting periods have nothing to do with women’s health, as preliminary results of the study indicate an increased negative impact upon women. The impact is particularly felt by poor women and women of color. Minority women in Texas suffer more from the restrictions, a fact that highlights how race, class, and access to abortion intersect to reinforce a monstrously oppressive system.

This news came days after Arkansas legislators instituted a 12 week abortion ban. Any woman seeking to exercise her constitutional right to have an abortion in Arkansas now is shit out of luck if she’s more than 3 months along. In a state with some of the highest rates of poverty in the nation, including a 23% poverty rate amongst children and a disturbing 40% poverty rate amongst African Americans, restricting health care access to the most vulnerable is downright evil. Would it kill them to pass some laws to take care of their record number of poor and starving children?

Considering that women often do not even realize they are pregnant until the tenth or twelfth week, the new ban is in essence, a full abortion ban. Thinking about this is mind-numbingly terrifying. I don’t want to drop into a ball of terror but this stuff is getting disturbingly close to A Handmaid’s Tale and I’m becoming less able to deal with my rage. Our rights are systematically going out the window like yesterday’s trash.

State by state, women’s rights are being rolled back in the name of deliberately misleading notions of women’s health. For instance, as if they did not want to be outdone by Arkansas, news is breaking that another restrictive abortion ban bill is making its way through the Kansas legislature.

Even our activism is being hijacked. The word “choice” has been used against abortion access and reproductive justice to sell an idea that women need an ultrasound and waiting period to “make the best choice.” Sean Hannity of Fox News recently argued that women should have the “choice to protect themselves from a rapist with their guns.”

I can’t emphasize enough that these bills are mainly impacting poor women. The Lilith Fund, an abortion fund that provides money to women that cannot afford an abortion on their own, reported on twitter that in “2012, 74% of the women we helped on our hotline were already mothers and 85% were women of color.” In Texas , Republican Gov. Rick Perry and the conservative legislature blocked thousands of poor women from access basic health care in their quest to de-fund Planned Parenthood. Family planning clinics have been forced to close because Perry directly cut their funds. Cutting funding leads directly to cutting services for women, particularly poor women, and women of color. No money, no care.

(more…)

ast week I went to the doctor for an IUD consultation (my last one came out but I really want them to shove another one up there regardless). Two days later, at a small gathering at their house, friends of mine who have been married for a year told us they were expecting a baby.

It was then I realized that my first reaction to this news is always sheer, unadulterated terror. Sympathetic terror, you understand – I feel terrified on their behalf, because somebody needs to, because they are just sitting there smiling like idiots when A TINY HUMAN is about to be completely, vulnerably, irreversibly in their care. WHY AREN’T YOU TERRIFIED I want to yell, which is not only socially inappropriate but also somewhat unfair. Firstly because they may in fact be terrified, but just have the common courtesy not to show it (and/or it is outweighed by happiness and other positive emotions), and secondly because really it’s none of my business.

Why does this news always lead to vicarious terror? Really I am happy for my friends – not just happy, but that perfectly pleasant place where your love for someone, and them having something they want that you don’t at all, intersect; no jealousy, just pure vicarious excitement. But I think of that tiny uncontrollable human that will soon be in their care; that little beast with its feelings, at the mercy of other, perhaps more terrible humans out there in the world.

On the way home my friends and I talked about what extra challenges the child might face, being mixed race. But we live in a big urban centre, in 2013 – it couldn’t be so bad, could it? We peered cautiously at the question from behind our whiteness. How bad is it? Certainly not bad enough that our beautiful, happy friends, with their own middle class backgrounds, strong support networks, and blossoming careers would even have second thoughts, right? But those terrifying conversations happen behind bedroom doors, and sometimes not even there. I thought of that same couple’s trip to visit a mutual friend attending school in the southern USA; the kinds of things they had to consider, as an interracial couple, would never have crossed my mind – but then, that’s my privilege, to not have to consider those kinds of things if I don’t want to.

What positive thing can come from my vicarious (maybe?) terror? A supportive ear, a cautious eye. I could be the clingiest babysitter there ever was. I want to follow my friends’ kids around and yell at people who give them a hard time; defend with my oversensitive heart the bodies they inhabit. I guess this is what happens when you and your friends get old enough to look out for yourselves; suddenly a new generation springs up and your loyalty and fear spreads out to encompass them. If I wanted to be a mother, I think I would be a terrible one. My child would never be allowed to take a risk; my poor heart wouldn’t allow it.

So I’m going to go ahead and get that IUD as soon as I can, but for me that’s only half of being childfree; the other half is offering my support, love, and absolute awe – and, if needed, a surplus of pure terror – to my beautiful friends and their upcoming tiny human on this next great adventure.

I have been pleasantly surprised by the dismay generated by New York Human Resources Administration’s new campaign, which sloppily attempts to “prevent teen pregnancy” by shaming young mothers and inaccurately touting adverse outcomes for young parents and their children.

The blogosphere has erupted against this campaign, with some of my favorite responses from Miriam Perez (who was actually brave enough to try the texting services accompanying the ads), Brittany at Advocates for Youth (who accurately stresses that communities with high birth rates need support, not shame), and my friend Natasha Vianna (whose post on ThePushBack.org is so excellent you should definitely to read it):

It’s this very concept of shaming teen moms that drives us into a deeper hole of isolation. I didn’t want to tell anyone that I was a teen mom, I didn’t want to ask for help, I refused to apply for any aid, and I put myself in unhealthy situations so I wouldn’t have to face the judgment of others. It was horrible. Yet, no one ever bothered to talk to me about the occurences in my life that led up to my pregnancy. Or what my life was like before becoming a pregnant teen. No one knew that I was already depressed in high school. No one knew that I already faced many of the adversities that teen moms face too. My life may have been exactly the same if I hadn’t become a teen mom but no one cared to look at me until there was a baby involved (that no one really cared about either).

If you are genuinely interested in seeing teen pregnancy rates decrease,  encourage your school, city and state to provide comprehensive sexual education, increase access to birth control and emergency contraception, provide youth with honest (non-bias) answers when they have questions, and be the support teens need… THEN you will see your numbers decrease. Until then, good luck to NYC with this horrible ad.

But public service announcements like these aren’t new — hence my surprise at the outrage here. Problematic messages like these have been around for a long time, and young parent bloggers like Natasha and PRYMFace (Promoting Respect for Young Mothers) have been writing about them for a while.

I decided to bring all of these advertisements together, in one place, to drive home the point that, while the new NYC ads are terrible, they aren’t out of the ordinary. Take a look at these posters. As reproductive justice activists, we should not tolerate young parents being subjected to these narratives, especially in their own communities. Our response should not be limited to this new campaign, but the narratives that surround young people and their reproductive choices more broadly. Let this outcry be a way for us to begin doing something better.

Like Erin, for the past several weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about how we, as feminists and reproductive health, rights, and justice activists engage in radical self-care practices.

As a young working professional who recently graduated from college, I’ve been thinking of ways to get reconnected to the self-care practices I engaged in as a college student. All too often we, as activists, say “yes” when we truly need a break and walk daily with the emotional stressors of activist work bearing on our shoulders. My work as an activist, organizer, and educator is directly tied to ME, my body, my identity, but can oftentimes lend itself to burnout. Thus, I’ve come up with some tips for us young activsts (and activists of any other age) to practice self-care while remaining true to our values:

1. Learn to say “No”
Learning to say no is not a bad thing. In fact, it’s a form of self-love. I’m sure there are tons of us out there who love to say yes and, oftentimes, in doing so bite off a lot more than we can chew. Let’s learn to say “no,” so that when we do say “yes” we are bringing our best selves to that task.

2. Feed Your Soul
When I say “feed your soul” I don’t only mean feed your soul with soothing music and journaling. Feed your soul with nourishing foods that do well by you and by your body. Feed your soul with intellectual conversations and with relationships that build you up, not break you down.

3. Get In Touch With Your Inner Child
The inner child in you is still alive, you just have to coax it out (if you don’t already). The inner child in you would want your adult self to have some fun. Go play tag with your significant other or friends. Jump on your bed just because you can. Color a picture in a coloring book!

4. Feed Your Creative Energy
I recently read a quote that said, “just because you can’t dance well, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” Dance if you feel like it! If you can’t paint, go paint a picture anyway, just for the hell of it! Go outside and take a picture of nature…or take a picture of yourself at weird Myspace angles. JUST DO IT.

5. Clear your life of clutter
I’m guilty of it–physical clutter, emotional clutter, all of it. Look, if it’s not sentimental to you, you’re not going to use it, or you don’t care for it, regift that shit! If you’re holding onto things that remind you of a painful time in your life, let it go and let go of that emotional clutter and pain.

6. Savor the Moment
Savor the moment in your relationships, friendships, and hobbies. In one moment, savor that time and focus your energy and thinking on it and nothing else.

7. Continue creating change
As activists, we inherently practice self-care as we work to heal our communities from external stressors and toxic factors. Continue to do your activist work so that, through healing your community, you heal yourself.

These are my my thoughts on how to engage in self-care as a radical activist. How do you, as activists, maintain your sanity through radical self-care?