Saturday, January 28, 2012

The Moral Majority

Last week I did a lactation consult at a home where the mother left the TV on.  Usually I am able to completely tune out this kind of thing, but the subject matter of the TV program kept distracting me. (And by the way, how rude is it to leave your TV on during an appointment with someone?)

It was Anderson Cooper's new daytime program, and the subject was "Purity Balls."  Cooper's primary guest was Randy Wilson, "founder" of the "purity ball" concept and obvious Quiverfulling patriarch:


For those not in the know, "Purity Balls" are wedding-like events where pre-teen girls, paraded around in white dresses, pledge to their fathers that they will remain "pure" until marriage.  I'm not kidding, they actually pledge their virginities to their dads.  Perhaps most laughable is their insistance that these events allow women (led by a male hand, of course) to be "empowered" enough to refuse the pressures of risky sexual activity. Incestuous overtones aside, this phenomenon has become just another way for the Religious Right to lay further claim to the female body.  Reaffirming the antiquated notion that a woman's only worth comes from refusal of her own sexuality, Purity Balls not only assume that a woman ought to stay "virginal" until marriage, but that her sexuality must only exist within the confines of heteronormative, monogamous ownership by her husband thereafter. 

Fortunately, the always quick-witted Jessica Valenti, founder of Feministing.com and author of The Purity Myth, was there to make a counter-argument:


The remainder of the episode, from what I caught, was a monotonous argument between audience members.  One group reiterated the obvious sexism that assumes women can't make their own decisions without a male guide, the other defended the idea by citing vague statistics on STIs and unintended pregnancies.  When able, Valenti offered some critique of what was missing from the discussion: one side railed against the repression of sexuality, the other against the dangers of sexual activity as perpetuated by damaging media images, but why aren't we talking more about the commodification of sexuality and offering young girls ways to make truly autonomous decisions about their sexual lives?

Valenti's points didn't resonate all that well, but not because she herself isn't one of the most articulate advocates of positive sexuality.  The problem was the context of the discussion: it was a daytime talk show where complex topics with many gray areas don't exactly get a comprehensive view. 

I will often rail against the concept of "virginity," as I see it as little more than a well-perpetuated social construct.  Pregnancy and STI infection notwithstanding, there are no permanent physiological changes that occur when a person, male- or female-bodied, engages in any kind of sex act with another person, at least none that couldn't be inflicted upon oneself through masturbation.  The other problem is that people identify "virginity" in many different ways: there are folks who have given or received oral sex that will still refer to themselves as "virgins," though they aren't much less likely than a person who has had vaginal intercourse to have contracted an STI.  The presence of a "hymen" (now more accurately called the corona) is still thought of as a litmus test for a woman's supposed "virginity," though in actuality the thing itself rests somewhere between anatomical reality and social myth. 

Wilson and his crew likely identify with the "Moral Majority," a politically-active group of fundamentalist Christians who lobby for their conservative leanings to be made into law.  They want to see not just abortion but also contraception outlawed or severely restricted, they rail against any family or relationship dynamic that does not fit into a "one man one woman" mold, they want to force their religious beliefs into public spaces, and they most certainly do not want to see positive sexuality taught in schools.  And after all this judgment-passing and alienation, they still call themselves the "majority." 

I cringe at the word "morality" for just that reason: I've been socialized to associate it with the above principles.  But the word itself, "morality."  All it means is that a person is aware of their personal values and that they hold themselves to them without compromise.  And in that sense, I'm a highly moral person.  I don't have the kinds of morals that are put upon me by some overarching system of oppression, and in that sense I'm more likely to remain moral without compromise.  Because I truly value what I value.  If I, for example, wanted to have sex with a similar-sexed person, I'd do it consensually and with total ownership of my actions.  I wouldn't do it by toe-tapping in an airport restroom after a full day of crying fire-and-brimstone at the very people I'm trying to sleep with.  Which is, in actuality, how the real majority lives: we set our boundaries, we try to follow them, and when we don't we accept the consequences.  Sometimes our values are dictated by a religious or spiritual belief system, but when that's the case, it's because we've chosen - not been forced - to draw from those systems.  Like it or not, the "Moral Majority" isn't any kind of majority at all.

When I teach middle schoolers about sexual consent within a healthy relationship, I ask the following series of questions:
  • Should anyone ever force you to do anything you don't want to do?
  • If you only say "yes" to something after being pressured, is it really consensual?
  • If you've consented to something in the past, does that mean you've consented to it at any point in the future?
  • Do you have the right to revoke consent in the middle of a sexual encounter? 
That last one is the one that trips them up.  The previous three they know the answers to, and they answer them vociferously, "No!  NO!  NO!!!" We tend to forget that kids are smart like that.  But that last one, they have to think about.  Then finally, one kid, usually a female, will shout, "Wait, YES!!!"  The moment where I affirm her answer is an empowering one.  It's empowering for the rest of the group as well, the knowledge that you can test a boundary without committing to it, that you have the full right to stop it when you want to.  That's real sexual autonomy, and I somehow doubt all this is being taught in the supposedly "empowering" Purity Ball classes.

What I'm trying to get at here is this: if the "Purity Ball" crew was really out to empower young women with the tools needed to hold themselves to values that they feel good about, they'd teach them to first explore their own values, then own them for their own sake.  And they certainly wouldn't just target young women. But of course this simply cannot come from the group that calls itself the "Moral Majority."  Such a group exists to force someone else's rules upon large groups of people, rules that keep the female-bodied in a place of subservience and the male-bodied in positions of unrealistic authority, a responsibility which is in its own way oppressive as well.  A truly empowering model would involve imparting upon every young person that they - not their fathers or husbands or whoever else - are in control over their bodies and their sexual lives. 

Friday, January 13, 2012

More Things You Should Never Say To A Divorcee (or future divorcee)

A friend sent me this link from The Stir:
10 Things You Should Never Say To A Divorcee

My favorite, by far, is #5:
“My husband and I had problems -- but we decided to try harder and work it out.” Don’t assume that just because my name is Kim, I Kardashianed my way out of my marriage. Sometimes the best intentions, dogged determination, and all the counseling in the world just isn’t enough to fix what’s broke. That’s a scary thing to accept -- which I suppose is why many people haven’t.
She's absolutely right... that ending the relationship is sometimes the best thing for the relationship is scary.  It's also not something we're brought up to think about.  Traditional marriage is "forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live," which, while many people make it work and are happy forever, is a ridiculous standard to hold the entire human population to.  I remember reading somewhere that a couple purposefully removed "for as long as you both shall live" from their wedding vows because, while at the time it seemed like a lovely thought, they understood that 51% of marriages end in divorce.  They chose the realistic route and just removed it all together.  And of course, the general population flipped their shit, not because the statistic is inaccurate, but because this couple would dare to admit that they, like everyone else, are at risk for divorce.

Being together forever is a challenge that, while admirable, actually just isn't right for lots of people. But we do it because we fall in love and in our society marriage is the natural progression. It's all well and good, and I absolutely do not regret having been married, but recognizing when the relationship has taken its course isn't really something we're brought up to think about.

Conte's piece deals with things you shouldn't say to someone who has recently separated or is still struggling.  I'm sitting here thinking of a few others - things you should never say to someone who has separated, is waiting for the mandatory waiting period for divorce, and has moved on.  

1. "Do you think you'll get back together someday?"
What part of "separated and pursuing divorce" don't you understand?
 
2. "I am just so, so sorry that you two are split."
This is a good thing to say to someone who has recently separated and is still getting over it.  Those of us who are moving on, not so much.  I mean honestly, what are you sorry about?  Sorry that we ended our relationship before bringing kids into the world?  Sorry that the split allowed me to reclaim a fierce independence that suits me?  Sorry that we're both happier now?   

3. "I'm glad you're dating again, but aren't you afraid this is just a rebound relationship??"
You're so right.  There is no possible way that my first real relationship since the split could be anything but a fling to help me get over my failed marriage.  And hey, the idea of my current relationship ending is so something I want to think about months after getting over the last painful break. Let's be real... anyone who's going through a divorce has thought of this already.  And really, if it turns out to just be some escapist fling, who the hell cares?  So long as no one gets pregnant or does anything permanent, what's the harm?

4. "Don't worry... you'll meet someone new and it will be awesome."
Maybe.  Or maybe not.  My happiness isn't necessarily tied in with my ability to be in a relationship with another person (and neither is yours). 

Contrast this one with number 3... this is the one that people say when you haven't started dating "soon enough." Everyone has a magic number in their heads about how soon is too soon, how soon is not soon enough, etc.  The truth is, there is no magic number... different people have different priorities, different relationships have different healing periods, and usually you don't realize it's the right time (or wrong time) to start dating again until you do.

5. "I know of a really good divorce lawyer."
Really now?  What makes you think I need one?  This goes back to the idea that divorce is always messy, that it always involves the two partners fighting tooth-and-nail over every last piece of community property, and that everyone even has the ability to pay a lawyer $400 an hour for some bullshit competition.  If I want/need a recommendation for legal services, I'll ask for one.    

6. "My aunt's coworker's hairdresser got divorced and thought she was fine, but two years later it really 'hit her' and she realized she never really grieved the loss of her marriage."
Why even say this??  Yeah, thanks for that heads up... I guess all those weeks of sleeping all the time and forcing myself to eat was just a preview of the shitstorm to come.  I'd better brace myself for the remote possibility that I'm going to have a nervous breakdown in a few years because your aunt's coworker's hairdresser is really good at repressing her shit.     

7. "How are your parents taking it?"
Oh gee, I don't know... last I checked I was the one getting the divorce and they were in Hawaii celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary.  I know they're essentially losing a member of their family, but fuck... my ex and I both have enough on our plates without having to concern ourselves with how other people are dealing with our relationship ending.     

 
8. "Don't worry... you're young and you've still got lots of time."
Lots of time until what?  Until old age comes and takes away any chance of me ever finding true happiness?  Until my ladyparts dry up and I can no longer fulfill my womanly duty to reproduce?  Until I'm classified as an "old maid" and become doomed to a life of loneliness and eccentric-cat-ladyness? 

9. "So who's side are all your mutual friends on?"
Srsly?  Just... srsly?


10. "The divorce rate is just so high.  It's really depressing."
My apologies for becoming a statistic that depresses you.  I guess I should have just stayed in a bad relationship so that you don't ever have to worry your pretty little head over such awful things.  

Thursday, December 29, 2011

2011: A Farewell Letter

It was the year that effectively kicked my ass.

Friends sit around a table and discuss how amazing 2011 was.  They're referencing the Arab Spring, Madison, Occupy, and other amazing grassroots efforts that reignited the spirit of people's victory here and around the world.  I try to bask in the same feeling of solidarity, but my year was decidedly more complicated.

It was early July when C and I officially split, but the months leading up to that point were inwardly tumultuous.  I was intensely focused on my classes and internship, my doula mamas, my writing, and anything else to keep myself distracted from my marriage's imminent demise.  Friends didn't see much of me, and if they did, I was distant and disengaged.

When the walls of your lovely complacent life come crashing down, it's excruciating.  For me, it didn't come as a slow, steady fall but as an all-at-once implosion.  I spent the better part of a week lying in bed either sleeping or wishing I was asleep.  I was taking small fistfuls of Klonopin at regular intervals. Friends came by to force feed me and make sure my cats had food themselves.  I didn't shower.  I didn't go to consults.  I even missed a job interview.

The exact details of the next few weeks are too fuzzy (or just too depressing) to write out here, so I'll skip ahead to early October.

I'm outside in the back yard on a cool evening.  The air feels clearer, as the summer's oppressive humidity is finally gone.  A couple of girlfriends are coming by in a while.  I'm basking in the fact that I have just built my first fire... C always did it before (he's very good at it).  I realize the obvious symbolism here: she who can build her own fire is she who can survive, as such an ability is at the crux of survival.  Somewhere in the past few weeks, survival had become second nature and I was ready to thrive.  I decided later that night (after about a bottle and a half of wine) that I was a fucking fire goddess and was completely in control of everything I wished to be in control over.  I awoke the next morning with a renewed sense of self... once the hangover cleared, of course.

I believe it was somewhere on the LIRR later that month when I realized how long this had needed to happen.  I wasn't in love anymore, and I wasn't sure exactly how long that had been going on.  I was thrilled.  I returned to Greensboro during the heydays of our Occupy encampment, spent some nights cooking and hanging out, and felt alive for the first time in months.

The month that followed was nothing if not interesting, as I decided I needed to put out all my fires with gasoline and basically explode into a brilliant display of pure energy.  Thankfully my near-daily yoga practice kept me grounded in stillness when stillness was needed (see the many previous posts on the matter).  I have only my dearest friends and comrades to thank for the constant support and ongoing love during this time... the life of a ball of pure energy is nothing if not ridiculous.  Energy does dumb shit... let me rephrase, it lives on stupidity and bad choices.  There were more than a couple of mornings when I didn't exactly recall driving home from wherever I'd been the previous night.  I can only thank the universe for delivering me home safely so that I could live to see my current lovely existence.

I'm being purposefully vague here, as I'm not a huge fan of putting every ounce of my personal life onto a public space, but suffice to say I am happier than I have been in maybe years. The months of November and December have been phenomenal.  I haven't thrown caution to the wind, believe me on that, but when something beautiful rises from the ashes of your life's most profound implosion, you can't not feel like the luckiest person on the planet.

Divorce is something people pity, something you're supposed to come away from with regrets and anger.  But I maintain neither regret nor anger at the way my marriage ended.  2011 was complicated.  It was the year the relationship I have maintained for my entire adult life ended, abruptly at that, leaving in its wake a whole host of anxiety and pain.  It was the single most excruciating experience either of us could have endured.  But the gaping wound is fast on the mend, and I'm looking forward into 2012 with a renewed sense of hope, a new outlook on myself and on love in general.

That being said, there is a very good chance that I will look back on 2011 as the best fucking year of my life.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

The Politics of EC

At risk of sounding like a Plan B commercial, things don't always go as planned.  The single most prepared and educated individuals can have a condom break, or hell, get lost in the heat of the moment and fail to use one at all.  While the latter certainly indicates a higher lack of preparedness (or common sense), the point is this: people who engage in vaginal intercourse - be they married or single, monogamous or not, teenaged or adult, using condoms or on the pill or neither - are at risk for a situation that could lead to an unintended pregnancy. 

While emergency contraception (trade names "Plan B" or "Next Choice," aka "the morning-after pill") has only been FDA approved since 1999, health care providers have been cutting up contraception pill packs for the exact same purpose since the 1980s.  The drug was made available to women over 18 without a prescription in 2006, then, in 2009, the FDA arbitrarily approved the drug for OTC use for women 17 and older.

Fast forward to last week, when "pro-woman" HHS Secretary Kathleen Sebelius overrode an FDA recommendation to make emergency contraception OTC for all.  A political move indeed, likely stemming from the fact that we are approaching an election year, and let's face it, Sebelius is "Obama's Girl."

We've heard the cries of disapproval from every anti-choice, anti-woman, anti-sex activist out there: "It will make young girls engage in sex at a younger age." "Women will start using it as their only form of birth control." "It causes early abortions." "It will turn the country into a 24/7 orgy," and so on and so forth.

I'm not about to spend a lot of time refuting these claims, sighting the ways we know that making contraception available to teens does not lead to earlier sexual contact, how it makes no sense to take a $35 pill every time you have sex instead of going on OCs for $20 a month, how it does not cause "early abortions," etc.  What I will spend some time on, however, are the reasons the mainstream population allows themselves to be swayed by the Christian Right's barrage of anti-sexuality bullshit.

It comes down to a conversation I had with my dad over Thanksgiving.  Neither of us had any clue that the FDA was considering OTC status for emergency contraception at the time.  I believe I was going on about how securing a prescription for Plan B involved little more than a 5 minute conversation with an advance practice clinician about your family history, and no, the girl's parents did not have to sign off on it, at least not in North Carolina.

While relatively conservative, my dad has a more progressive outlook on some social issues, and birth control seems to be one of them.  However, he seemed shaken by the fact that a 15 year old girl could walk into a Planned Parenthood, talk with a nurse practitioner, and walk away with Plan B without her parents ever knowing.  My first reaction would have been to accuse him of being a typical anti-woman wingnut, though he's my dad and I know he's really not a raging misogynist.  Such a disconnect led me to take a moment to process exactly what his major objection could be.

Then it hit me.

Dad is a 62 year old man with a daughter who was 15 a mere twelve years ago.  When he pictures a 15 year old girl, he pictures his daughter: an awkward string bean of a high schooler who, in his mind, has absolutely no interest in dating, let alone sex.  When he pictures that 15 year old procuring Plan B, the thought is horrifying.  That girl is, after all, someone's daughter.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, I picture a 15 year old girl and I see one of my teens.  They've had a condom break (or didn't use one at all), or maybe they forgot to take their pill or get their Depo shot.  Now is no time to tell them that they shouldn't have been doing whatever they were doing to get themselves into that situation.  That conversation can be had after they get their EC, and if it's one of my teens, you know we'll be having it.  "You were drinking and didn't know what you were doing?  Tell me what's wrong with that."  "You didn't use a condom?  Why on earth... we have a giant bucket right here in the office."  "Condoms break, yes... it's rare but it happens.  Do you want to talk about an IUD or another method?" "What can we do to help you remember to take your pill?  Have you thought about the NuvaRing, or maybe an Implanon?"  Nowhere in the above scenarios do I think for even a second that I can change what's already happened, nor do I believe that having made EC available will make them more likely to do it again.

Then I started thinking into the future.  Will I become one of those moms who used to be uber sex-positive but now has a kid who she doesn't want to admit is a sexual being?  Let's be real... kids are humans.  Humans are sexual.  There is no "sex switch" that gets flipped on when you turn 18 (or when you get married... but that's a whole other post).  We don't like to talk about it, but children masturbate.  I was just having a conversation with a friend who told me that her two year old son gets an erection when he nurses; the thought horrified me for about 2 seconds until I checked myself and realized that it's not at all weird... it's a normal biological response to a place of extreme comfort and happiness.

It makes us so uncomfortable to think of kids, especially our own, being sexual beings, but ignoring it (or trying to "save them" from their inherent nature as a living breathing human) is hardly going to change that.  If anything, it makes things worse.  Too many times young girls fail to ask for EC because they're embarrassed, or they think they need their parents' permission, or they can't afford it, or they don't even know it's available to them.  That doesn't make them stop having sex... it makes them more likely to face an unintended pregnancy and have their childhood come to a screeching halt.  If all we have to do to keep that from happening is toss our ridiculous notions of "the virtuous child" out the door, well, I think we owe them at least that much.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

transition

When birth workers hear the word "transition," our minds immediately go to the final moments of labor's first stage.  During transition, the cervix is dilating its final two centimeters.  Contractions are longer, stronger, and closer together.  A woman experiencing unmedicated labor will likely ask for an epidural during this time (though she'll be complete and not want one anymore by the time the anesthesiologist gets there).  She will usually say something like "I can't do this anymore."  The doula's role here is to tell her that these are all good signs, that labor is progressing and she'll be done very soon.

This stage of labor is aptly named.  Transitions are indeed difficult.

For the past few months I've been living in a house with all of C's things just waiting around.  I've had to put certain things on hold while I wait for the time when he finally returned to town and moved his stuff to his new apartment.  That time has been this week.

I've been saying for several months that my life is interrupted when C comes into town.  There's considerations we have to make, conversations we have to have, etc.  The groove I've spent months creating for myself has to take a backseat for visitation and heavy conversation.  Not that I mind, it's worth it if it means we can get through this process in a compassionate and (relatively) simple manner.

Then the stuff started disappearing.  The binary of stay still/keep moving that has defined my life over the past couple of months has gone from a basic reality to a constant juggle.  Moving between the extremes - figuring things out with Charlie and living the independent life I've created for myself - has worn down my seams.  I need tons of extra support, extra self-care, and hell, probably extra stillness as well. 

I knew the process would be difficult in many ways.  The move was anticipated, it's necessary, and it's wanted by the both of us.  Doesn't make it any easier to realize that every sound in the house echoes into the spare room that's now mostly empty.  Moving forward, at long last, is cathartic.  It is, at the same time, terribly wonderful, sad, liberating, upsetting, and joyous.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Everything I need to know about birth, I learned from Bradley

The Bradley Method is one of the more popular childbirth education programs in the U.S.  Which is just wonderful, because Bradley has so many great lessons to teach us about the process of pregnancy and childbirth.  To name a few:
  • All laboring people are heterosexual and married to a man.  Moreover, all laboring people are women.
  • Your husband (what, you have one, don't you??) knows more about your process than you do.  Don't ever forget this.  
  • Everything you put in your body during pregnancy makes your baby sad.
  • If you utilize any medical interventions, be it an epidural or just a Foley bulb, you've failed as a woman and your body hates you.
  • If you have a cesarean, you suck at life and should just go ahead and kill yourself.
  • Don't listen to your HCP when she tries to give you postpartum Pitocin for excessive bleeding... she's way too medical and doesn't know anything.  
  • If families really care about their birthing experience, they will find a way to shell out the big bucks for a Bradley class.  Priorities, folks.
  • Teaching expectant parents about the pros and cons of medical interventions will only encourage their use.  You don't need to know how an epidural is administered... you aren't going to have one because it will kill you and your baby.
  • Erythromycin is only for the babies of slutty unmarried women.  Hospitals shouldn't even mention it to married women because there is absolutely no possible way that they have gonorrhea.  Additionally, erythromycin will make you fail at breastfeeding and therefore as a person.
  • The female-bodied are incapable of doing anything rad without a strong male presence overseeing their entire process.
  • Miscarriage, fetal demise, and birth defects don't just "happen."  You did something wrong and should feel very, very bad for poisoning your baby like that.
  • "Tough love" is the best way to ensure a woman gets the birth she hoped she'd have before labor even began.  Seriously, lock the anesthesiologist in the supply closet if you have to.  The mama is completely incapable of knowing what she wants during such a hysterical period.  (Pun totally intended.)
  • Only people who support late-term abortion have amniocentesis.  How dare you would kill your baby like that.
  • Even a drop of infant formula will make your child retarded.  Forget so-called "failure to thrive" and don't worry... IBCLCs are a part of the medical conspiracy and don't know shit either. 

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

(un)Occupied

My head was full of junk until last night.

I mean that literally, I had a terrible cold that started Wednesday and took its time subsiding.  Maybe there is a connection between head congestion and mind congestion.  Because my mind was certainly congested when last night's yoga practice began.

I thought Monday's "Vinyasa Challenge" would be perfect for my uneasy mental state.  After all, that class generally begins moving and doesn't stop until savasana.  Last night, however, Andrea took a different approach.

A fair warning: I'm going to start sounding like a broken record here.  Andrea's opening remarks had to do with - surprise surprise - stillness and sitting with things.  It's almost like she knew I'd been talking a lot about it but doing very little to live it.  She told us that we'd be flowing through poses slowly, allowing things to sink in instead of moving right along to the next one (sound familiar?).  Great, I thought.  This is not going to work for me.

And at first it didn't.  I tried very hard to stay present through an opening flow, but my mind was everywhere else.  I was just about to give up when BOOM.  First chaturanga, a mandatory moment of strength.  And the focus was there.  And it was liberating.  (Really, it was probably the first time I've ever hoped I could stay in a chaturanga forever.)

I spent the remainder of the practice fully in my body, total self-awareness.  Rooting down, I felt so expansive that I was sure I could touch every wall in the room if I really wanted to.  After a series of balancing poses (definitely kicked my ass... like I said my head was congested too), I felt like I'd finally retained all the focus that last week's "yoga hiatus" had forced me to lose.  And things were clear again.

Then, as we settled into savasana, Andrea read a poem.  Going into the subject matter gets a bit more personal than I'd like to here, but it was the single most perfect end to one of the most mentally-challenging practices ever.  The themes from her earlier remarks were all tied in: sitting with empty spaces, allowing room to breathe, etc.  The metaphor, though, is what got me.  It's almost as if the universe is throwing these things in my face on purpose.  I think it is... at least, I want to believe it is.

I spent the remainder of the evening at a wonderful GA for Occupy UNCG, had a drink with some friends, and came home to half-ass a first draft of a paper that's due next week.  I went to bed with absolutely none of the previous baggage that had been occupying my congested brain, and much of the post-plague congestion had left me as well. 

I truly hadn't slept that well in weeks.