Feminists For Choice

Guest writer Maggie is a White lesbian who works a 9-5 in NYC. She’s also a music junkie and lapsed activist whose current obsessions include visual journaling, 5Rhythms®, and The Wire. These are her words.

Primer
At some point, small gold lapel pins meant to suggest a baby’s footprints were passed around the room. Whether I said “no” out loud or not, I don’t remember, but I knew I wasn’t going to wear that pin. I was a young girl sitting in the corner of a small Catholic church within a small Southern city. Our CCD teacher was only doing what the church expected of her, but I was beginning to learn about the intersection of my beliefs with those around me. Somehow, I knew that the pin meant that women wouldn’t be able to choose abortion over pregnancy and parenting, and I felt that was wrong. How exactly, or when I became pro-Choice is hard to say, as our beliefs are such a complex alchemy of race, gender, class, nationality, religious affiliation, familial dynamics, and so on. I do know, though, that my understanding of Choice and my activism have changed as I have come to appreciate more of the color, texture, depth, and scale of my own journey. Today, I remain pro-Choice, but I see the pro-Choice movement as one piece in a larger, broader, messier movement for reproductive justice*.

Red
It’s been said before and should be said again: the era of George W. Bush was a frightening time for the world. On his first day in office, Bush instituted what is commonly referred to as the Global Gag Rule . . . what foreshadowing! In the early Bush (Jr.) years, my activism consisted mostly of irregular clinic escorting and writing small checks. I was naive and had not had an abortion, but I felt I could contain my anger and fear in the face of protestors. Escorting challenged me on many levels, especially because the protestors don’t see the women they’re chasing, and this process reveals larger complicated truths about reproductive health care in our country. Standing there, in a woman’s body, on cold, early mornings felt mostly like an extended session of “hurry up and wait,” where you’re looking for women you’ve probably never met and with whom you will only spend a few seconds. These women – patients – became part of my life simply because they were accessing care in an environment that makes access, let alone inclusive, high quality care increasingly rare. I realized that, for some, just arriving at a clinic might have been a victory. And, I felt deeply how fervently some people seek to deny women such access.

Orange
In my late 20’s, I spent less time escorting and took part in more one time actions, like petition gathering/phonebanking/e-mailing, and attending lectures. I was becoming frustrated with the straight, White, middle class tone of what I saw as the mainstream pro-Choice movement. I was also frustrated by the straight White radical feminists I was meeting. Most of my time was consumed by navigating my own process of coming out (Bisexual, then Lesbian, and sometimes Queer), and entering the classroom as a new teacher. When I was assigned a biology course at the high school level, I found myself walking a fine line with both teachers and students. I met students who were afraid of HIV, but didn’t know you could contract it through oral sex. I worked alongside teachers who made, or openly allowed homophobic comments. I taught young women who were pregnant, throwing baby showers for peers, or returning to school determined to beat the odds. One of my students tried to hide her pregnancy through the second trimester, and when I asked her how she and her mother were feeling about the pregnancy, I found out that the mother basically refused to talk about it. The irony, for me, is that in spite of the requisite health courses, the internet, and research we now have on sexual activity among teens, we assume that they know so much more than they do. How can a pro-Choice movement survive in an environment where students in the largest and most diverse school system in the country lack critical information about their reproductive health? Clearly, I was bumping up against larger issues of race, gender, class, immigration status, disability, etc.

Yellow
A wise woman told me that activism what you bring to where you are, and how you use your privileges to make space for other voices. These days, I try to speak my truth and act as an ally where I can. I see my activism as less formal or obvious in that it mostly takes the shape of conversations. Here are some ways I have tried to make conversations about Choice real for me: Once, when modeling a lesson for fellow teachers, I created a lesson that would teach students how to schedule an appointment at a health clinic. Another time, when my partner and I were watching coverage of Nadya Suleman, I considered how coverage of Suleman differed from that of Jon and Kate Gosselin and talked about why it might be important to support a mother’s choice whether or not we agree with it. And, when abortion came up in a recent conversation with a woman I’d just met, I spoke my truth and paraphrased research from the Guttmacher Institute. I believe that activism needs to come from our own truth, and can therefore vary across years and lives.

Rainbow
As a White, able-bodied, middle class lesbian, I feel I have a responsibility to speak my truth, but also to act as an ally to those with fewer privileges. And, I see a need to both push those in power who make decisions about reproductive health care, but also to seek and support alternatives to mainstream services. There are now three components of my activism, so to speak. First, an important starting point for me has been to educate myself. I seek out stories from older women. I have spent countless hours researching pieces of herstory, and have learned more about how women from all over the world have exercised control over their reproductive cycle throughout time. Of course, many of those stories cannot be found in mainstream culture.

In addition, I try to support grassroots organizing done by and for people who are disproportionately denied access to the reproductive health care they need. If I write small checks or attend events these days, it’s usually to support groups like Astraea, FIERCE, or the Audre Lorde Project.

And finally, I take self-care and alternative healing modalities seriously. I contact my representatives, but also seek out healers. Having explored a range of modalities like flower essences, herbs, massage, karate, and journaling, I know that these methods cannot replace reproductive healthcare, but rather complement it, and can be especially important for those who are engaged in full-time activist work.

I would say that I now support the movement for reproductive justice because I recognize that not only are issues of identity complex, but there are numerous factors that comprise one’s health, such as whether or not you are employed or have insurance, whether the land you live on is toxic, whether or not you have been explicitly taught about your reproductive cycle, and so on. I would say I support a movement for reproductive justice because I am most concerned with projects, spaces, and ultimately, a society that recognizes that reproductive health is a critical component of our overall well being, and is a reflection of the intersection of many experiences and beliefs. In other words, I want to stand alongside those who believe that everyone should have the space and resources to determine for themselves if and when they want to have sex (and how), and if (and when and how) they want to create, birth, and/or raise children, and how to transition out of menstrual cycles and into menopause, etc.

Reproductive justice means, in my mind, that I believe in Queer rights, but also religious tolerance. It means that I need to take a stand against rape and sexual assault, as well as racism in its many forms, and war. I consider reproductive justice a term for what is actually a series of struggles that are multi-faceted and cannot be won on legal battles or pledges alone. I think reproductive justice provides us with a framework and an opportunity to work in coalition to understand our health in a holistic sense. Ultimately, there is room for all of us and our many types of activism, whether they are widely recognized or funded, or not. When I think about the words “feminist”, “pro-Choice,” and “activism”, I realize that I see more nuanced picture of reproductive health, in part, because I have a different understanding of myself than that young Catholic girl who refused the fetal pin. So, as someone concerned about reproductive justice, I suppose I am about as pro-Choice as I’ve ever been.

*Reproductive justice is a term widely attributed to women who attended the International Conference on Population and Development in Cairo in 1994. One resource for more information can be found online at Reproductive Justice.