Why going as a woman for Halloween is not cool.

Today I got into a altercation in the comments on FB (gotta love those) in response to a status update by a presumed enlightened male I know by proxy.  He said he needed some help with his Halloween costume this year.  And that he needs a dress, because he's going as a woman.

I guess I'm the only one who's eyebrows are raised by this.  My immediate reaction (which I commented) was, "Thanks for reducing my gender to a Halloween costume."  Some interesting conversations occurred.  First, the one between this person and I went something like this:  He responded confused as to how this was offensive.  Going as a firefighter doesn't offend firefighters.  Really?  Well, going as a man doesn't offend men either.  Why would it?  They don't have to worry about being trivialized.  Let me explain something.  If I went as a man for Halloween, it wouldn't be interesting.  We have "tom-boys" in real life.  Big deal.  But a MAN in a DRESS?!  Now THAT'S hilarious.  When you see Bing Cosby with his face painted black, people back then thought it was funny.  Nobody cared who they were offending because they didn't have to worry about it.  

Then something interesting happened in the comments, which I had a terrible feeling from the start, but keeping my mouth shut would have defeated the purpose.  One of his lady friends came after me with silly (snide?) remarks, one about how I should just go as a man- "That'll show him!"  Show him what?  Show him that we're on an equal playing field and dressing as the opposite gender is ironic nomatter what?  (And I haven't neglected to mention how this is totally offensive to transgender folks)  I'm the one that just doesn't get it, I guess.  

In my experience, if you are the one being called out on potentially oppressive behavior that is either subtly or blatantly exercising your male/white/first-world privilege, it usually does more harm than good to try to explain your actions away or otherwise defend them.  These situations are usually a call for sensitivity, listening, and empathy, even if you think the person bringing the issue up is crazy, over-politically-correct, or too sensitive.  It's not your place/privilege to decide.  It's your responsibility to listen up.  And it's not my responsibility to explain this shit to you.  If I'm offended, as a woman, AS YOUR SISTER, chances are I'm about to say something important.

Great article from Ma'ia on privilege to follow.

I was a wanted mama

I've been thinking a little bit lately about abortion.


Laurel posted a great thread on Full Spectrum Doula Network about the emotional and mental realities of abortion entitled "Abortion as Perinatal Loss".  One of the other commenters said something poignant about how abortion can have the emotional repercussions of miscarriage.  And I've always thought that it's a damn shame that so many of the strong, in-tune women I know who have gotten abortions have swept the experience under the rug, seemingly afraid to admit the full spectrum of their emotions due to the fear of their emotional pain and physical healing being used against them by people who want to take away their rights and make them feel guilty about their decision.  Do I blame them?  Not necessarily.  I just think it's really fucking sad.


Also, I've been chatting with a good friend of mine about working with The Doula Project in NYC to get an abortion doula training here in the Midwest, something that this area desperately needs.  I see this work as incredibly valuable in light of the very thing I was just discussing- the emotional and mental realities of people who choose abortions. 


Maybe this would be the best time to disclose some very personal information.  I have, and always will be, pro-choice.  I am also anti-abortion.  This means I'm pro-everything-that-could-prevent-abortions, such as comprehensive sexuality, access to contraception and improved maternity care, as well as programs to end poverty and the subjugation of women.  I think abortion is a sad thing, that we should be working to minimize abortions, because they have no positive effect on a women's sexual health (dare I say a negative one) not to mention take place in a society ill-equipped to support the healing that must take place afterward.  Until all of those things are in place, it will sadden me that it must be integrated into modern womancare.  But I graciously offer all my support and love for any woman who chooses this, because she deserves it.


On the other hand, my partner was raised extremely pro-life.  We've talked and talked about this, and he agrees now that he is pro-choice, but also has such a deep-seated aversion to welcoming abortion into the norm of my work due to it's nature- or what he perceives as its nature.  And ultimately, I agree with him that the nature of abortion is that it's a hard decision nobody wants to have to make, yet he feels that it runs deeper than just that- that it's a loss- and it's hard because I don't exactly disagree with him.  It's just that his feelings on the subject are in the way of me moving forward with working as an abortion doula, and I want to respect his feelings but also want him to respect what I'm called to do.


What to do, what to do.  I am fierce when it comes to ladies' access to abortions, supporting them and their ability to make educated reproductive decisions for a lifetime.  I would NEVER question somebody's intent on having an abortion.  Yet today I saw a bumper sticker of a Mother Teresa quote that said "It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so you can live as you wish."  And it struck me with involuntary truth.  And maybe it's because of the crisis I had when I was pregnant, as a pro-choice woman, thinking, "This is a baby."  And knowing how relatively easy it's been to be a good mama to my baby despite my struggle to elicit support and resources.  But this is my privilege.  He was a wanted baby.  I was a wanted mama.

Check out the Full Spectrum Doula Network!

It's been a month since I've updated, and I've needed it.  Greg and I have been working on night-weaning and I've been getting more sleep now than I have in a year.  It's been fabulous.

There's an overwhelming amount of articles and news out there right now that I'm not sure what to share first.  To me, it seems like there is an increasing awareness about pregnancy and birth in the reproductive justice movement, and it's awesome!  I'm getting really encouraged about things actually making a drastic change in my lifetime :)

What I DO want to share is that my great doula friend, Laurel, just launched a fabulous online community call the Full Spectrum Doula Network (FSDN)  It's purpose is to unite pro-choice, feminist, queer, and people of color working as doulas or midwives.  I'm so excited to be a featured blogger on the site!  Check it out at fullspectrumdoulas.com

When things fall apart.

It's gotten pretty bad. 

I took a postpartum depression screening online a few weeks ago, and while I wasn't too surprised, it finally let me say out loud what I've been feeling since I was pregnant.  I am ill.  I have postpartum  depression.  The hardest thing about saying that is the fact that I don't necessarily feel depressed, just extremely agitated, rageful, and anxious.  I've felt depressed before and it didn't feel like this does.  But I definitely feel like I have no control over my emotions, and I've reached a point where I don't want to be a mother.  I love my sweet little child, but I don't want to be his mother anymore.  I want to go home.


The most terrible part is that I can't really breathe.  I have just kept going going going with school and my other many hats that I'm always wearing some hat, some role, and feeling really screwed into being something to somebody all the time.  I don't know what it feels like to relax, to be nothing but my open, honest, joyful self.  Feeling phobia socially, snapping at everything that gets under my skin and dragging it out for fifteen minutes, and especially losing my appetite- none of that is ME.  I've lost a lot of weight.  Everybody tells me that I look great, and I just want to tell them that I feel like shit.


To be honest, to lay it all out, I feel like shit.  My marriage is maxed out, I've had blowouts with my mother, mother-in-law, and best friend, and I've pretty much alienated myself into a corner of distrust and isolation.  I see my midwife today.  I had to wait two weeks to get into the clinic because I couldn't afford to see her right away.  But what price did I pay by waiting?  Greg says that things are going to get better after the first of the year, after Elijah goes to school, after just a few more months.  I don't think I can last that long.


This is the first time in my life that I've even considered getting on some medication.  I feel like an emergency, like a walking time bomb.  If anything hits up against me hard enough, I'll shatter all over the place.  I don't want to wean Elijah, but I've thought about it.  It makes me so sad.  I know sometimes that nursing him really drives me crazy, but I'm not ready to let him go like that.  I don't want to look back at this time and think that I really screwed him out of a good mama.  And that's where I'm stuck.  I'm tired of being his mama.  But I know I can't stop.  And I want to say it's because I love him, but I don't even know how to love myself right now.  I know I love him, but right now, it's next to impossible for me to feel it.


We'll see how today's appointment goes.  I guess I knew these two weeks would be hell.

Lawmaker may propose cutting epidurals, C-sections from medicaid

A bit of a delayed response on this bit of news, but it's still worth sharing.  Lawmakers in Utah are considering a proposal to overhaul Medicaid, starting with cuts in the most interesting of places- epidurals and elective Cesareans.  The move would be an attempt to minimize the spending the state says it makes for out-of-state college students "freeloading" on Medicaid (because apparently Utah has an epidemic of pregnant college girls) since they might not technically be employed, yet still dependent on wealthy parents residing elsewhere.  However, despite there being examples of how the rates of these procedures go down when insurance refuses to pay the high price for them, the motivation of this particular move is troubling.  

I agree with the response this has incited that denying a woman an epidural she is desperate for based on her insurance provider is classist and totally misogynistic.  On the other hand, exclaiming epidurals an issue of choice just doesn't sit well with me.  I guess it's that old feminist line of thought that says we have the right to escape the pain of childbirth, as if the pain of birth was, in fact, meant to punish us for being women.  It's not going far enough for me.  The right to a healthy, normal, empowered birth is a feminist issue.  This argument to protect Medicaid-sponsored epi's reeks of the sentiment that lower class women aren't capable of a normal, non-intervened birth (which is suspiciously useful to the state- can you imagine if poor women everywhere started having supported, empowering births?  Watch out!)  I agree that women who are systematically denied education and resources contributes to the lack of informed consent, and therefor the cascade of interventions, which makes an epidural sound pretty nice.  But nobody here is talking about providing the women effected in this situation alternatives (such as implementing hospital midwifery programs, like this one, and this one).  They're just fighting to protect the epidural.

This is a classic case of a few bad apples spoiling the bunch, because sometimes an epidural can be a useful tool, not every college kid has wealthy parents, and the overwhelming majority of pregnant women on Medicaid are there for a damn good reason.  It's just disappointing for me to see that the biggest reaction to this has been so unimaginative and classically self-blaming.  We should really be taking this opportunity to talk about how to empower the women this would effect, to look at the evidence, and try to create something positive out of a poorly motivated, yet opportunistic, change.  The question here should be, "Do we need the epidural?"

Motherwork as an oppressive state

I really didn't think I would be a stay-at-home-mom.  Ever.  

In fact, if I were to have gone to a fortune teller as a twenty-year-old, have her look in her deck and tell me that I would someday, very soon, be a stay-at-home-mom, married to a man who worked full time bringing in all the money, I would have demanded my money back.  Or punched her in the face, or both.  Obviously, I think my son is the most amazing human being I have ever met (and, for the record, I'm not the only one) and I consider my role as a mother one of sacred trust from the universe, however I wasn't really expecting the reality of this society's lack of appreciation for the work I'm doing to slap me in the face so.. hard.  I'm actually pretty upset about it.

As with everything in motherhood, it's too complex to completely explain, but other mothers have an intuitive sense of what I'm talking about when I say, "I've had it!"  Trying to explain it to others has been met with perplexed and apologetic responses such as, "But isn't it great that you get to raise your kid the way you want?" or "And you're doing such an important thing!" as if that's enough to shut me up and make it okay that I'm volunteering so much time for the benefit of society at large.  This is why the whole "cute baby reward" argument doesn't chalk up to me.  It's not okay for me to sacrifice paying work (believe me, if I got paid for my motherwork, I would shut right up) for a cute baby to cuddle with every night.  That's not the point of it for me.  It's hard work to consciously parent and to be bringing this kid up as a person who values the people around him (his mother included).  The U.S. minces no words in its value on this work.  And it's a hard pill for me to swallow.  Every.  single.  day.

I try hard not to resent my partner.  It's really hard!  The important thing with that is my compassion for his experience.  He would rather be parenting than working.  And I would rather be dragging the meat home.  This is why I married him!  I realize that he, too, is a victim in this nuclear set-up.  I wonder how this happened- is it just that easy to fall into this kind of situation for people?  Is it that prescribed?  The most difficult part of it is that I'm the one who's in charge of finding yet another solution.  And while I understand that any revolution or change comes from the ground, or those at the bottom, it just makes me wonder how much of that contributes to any sort of oppression.  How are the burnt-out expected to make their own lives better?  Where is the support?  I'm expected to schlep my car-seat-hating baby around town, find free childcare every week, feed him with my body, grow my own food, go to class, get good grades, AND organize that childcare co-op with all of the other isolated mamas in town that will magically solve all my problems? 

Again, I don't expect anybody without children to grasp this reality, to be fair.  It's also hard to hear things like, "I'm so glad I don't have kids", when I am asked how I'm doing (because I tell the truth).  Obviously, I don't have a single-handed solution, so I can't script the support, but hearing those types of things further undermines the great job I'm doing, and my contribution.  And right now, I'm out to make it known that my motherwork is a contribution to society, and that all mothers (and papas doing motherwork) are currently providing a free service in raising the next generation of rabble-rousers.  And it's damn hard work.  The last thing I need is to have some child-free privilege flapped in my face (intentional or not), because I value my work.  I just wish I wasn't so alone. 

Vitality

LIFE.

I've been full of it lately, feeling really connected again to my sexual power, my vitality.  I am sliding down a little, intoxicating my body with coffee, smoke, and fatty foods, preparing my journey back inward on this slope toward the darker me in my cycle.  Taking advantage of my wild heathen, getting a lot of good love-making in while I can.

I recently did my professional labor assistant training with toLabor (The Organization of Labor Assistants for Birth Options and Resources).  I'm a doula!  A doula with no births under her belt, but a few I'm holding in the hands of my future- a mama due in October, one in December, and I have an interview this week.  I'm just so eager to put all of the wisdom I was handed into practice already.  I'm being as patient as I can.  

Just checking in, I guess.