Is Rick Santorum coming after your birth control?

Let's look at what he's said in the past:

• Contraception doesn't work and is harmful to women and society
• The dangers of contraception are a public policy issue
  
• He would fight to prohibit the intentional killing of a fertilized egg
• States have the right to ban contraception
• “All of us have heard people say, ‘I privately am against abortion, homosexual marriage, stem cell research, cloning. But who am I to decide that it’s not right for somebody else?’ It sounds good, but it is the corruption of freedom of conscience.”

But recently he's attempted to clarify his position:

"I was making a statement about my moral beliefs, but I won’t impose them on anyone else in this case."

OK. So, based on his statements, do you think President Santorum would protect your access to contraception?

Me neither.

ETA: by the way, the question he was asked? That elicited the supposedly misinterpreted answer when all poor Rick was trying to do was to express his moral beliefs, certainly not his political policies?

What can we do to advance the pro-life agenda beyond what we've already done?

Got it.

Five dimensions

Due to recent events both public and private, I've been thinking about gender identity and sexual orientation a decent amount in the last few years, and I've formulated a theory that I find interesting. Before I continue, I want to warn you that I have not done any real research in these areas; this is simply my own theory (and theory is probably too grandiose a word for it), based on my thoughts and observations. I apologize in advance to my friends who know more about this than I do (of whom I have many) if I come off as unsophisticated, simplistic or insulting.

I've read a lot of news articles and blogs about these subjects, as well as the attending comments (I know, Liz, I should never read the comments! But I can't help myself...). As usual, one thing that has struck me repeatedly is how people with opposing views on these issues tend to talk at cross purposes; each has their own perspective and it's so different from the other side's that they may as well be speaking different languages. In particular, there are people who cannot fathom even the possibility of a disconnect between one's biological sex and one's sense of one's gender. There are also a lot of people who conflate sexual behavior with sexual orientation.

So I was thinking about those people, and how they seem incapable of understanding gay/trans issues, and I realized that their entire view of both gender and sexual orientation is deeply, fundamentally, nearly impossibly different than mine. And I realized that, for many, many straight people in the world today, all these issues can be simplified down to a single, binary choice: man or woman. That's it! It's so easy! That's all you have to think about! Are you a man or a woman? The end. And everything else just plays out from there: if you're a man then you feel like a man, you act like a man, you want to have sex with women, and (if you're lucky) you get to have sex with women. Opposite goes for if you are a woman. Done.

This perspective is simple, easy and reassuring, and for most people, it's the only perspective they've ever needed to have. They've never felt differently, and everyone they've ever known works that way, too (superficially, at least).

I used to be this way, myself, mostly. As a straight woman who feels at home in her body, I haven't had to think too much about it. I am biologically female. I identify as a woman. I'm not the girliest of girls, but for the most part I stay within the accepted gender roles in our society. I'm sexually attracted to men, and my sexual behavior mirrors that sexual preference. Done. Pretty cut and dried. So it would be easy to think that all of that can be summed up in one simple fact: I am female. Honestly, left to my own devices it'd be difficult to think of it in any other way.

But I've had enough friends and family members who have had different experiences to alert me to the fact that it isn't always that simple. Based on their experiences, my current theory is that, rather than one defining, binary, biological dimension to gender, there are in fact five:

1. Biological sex - what sex your physical body and chromosomes say you are
2. Gender identity - what sex your mind and heart tell you you are
3. Gendered behavior - how you behave re: gender (butch vs. femme, cross-dressing, etc.)
4. Sexual orientation - what gender(s), if any, you are sexually attracted to
5. Sexual behavior - how, when and where you have sex and with whom

Some of these things are choices, some of these things are not, and some we don't know. Furthermore, not only are there five dimensions rather than one, but each of the five is not really binary at all, but a spectrum which also includes all or none, and may change over time and context. Even biological sex is not binary: many people are born with ambiguous genitalia and/or variations of the typical XX/XY at the chromosomal level.

Each dimension is also independent of the others, which is why you can stick a straight guy in a dress and it won't make him either gay or a woman; it's why there's a huge difference between people who cross-dress and transgendered people (and not all people who enjoy cross-dressing are gay); and it's why you can "reform" gay people all you want but even if they get married and have kids and never have homosexual sex ever again, it doesn't change their sexual orientation. Sorry, still gay. (Or throw a straight guy in prison and, despite whatever sexual behaviors he might engage in while in there, it doesn't make him gay.)

So instead of an obvious, singular choice between two concrete options, we get literally an infinite number of possible combinations. That is really scary for a lot of people, especially people who prefer concrete, black and white interpretations of things. It's incomprehensible for others. I will admit, I've had a hard time with it myself, especially the disconnect between dimensions 1 and 2. I have never personally felt a disconnect between my biological gender and my gender identity, and it is difficult for me to imagine what that might feel like.

But you know what? I don't have to feel that way in order to have compassion for those who do. When someone I love comes to me and tells me that he's never been comfortable in the body that he was born with, never felt right, that he hates it and longs for it to match the mental image he has of himself, do I say, "sorry, my mental and biological genders match, so you must not feel that way"? Of course not. How dare I tell him how he's feeling? I don't understand; I can't ever really understand. But that does not give me the right to deny his reality.

So I've come to embrace the concept of the five dimensions. My dimensions are easy, because mine are typical and I've never had to question them. But that's actually the best part of it: I don't have to question mine! I think that may be the biggest stumbling block of all, the biggest, scariest hurdle for those like me who are blinded by our "normalcy" to the other dimensions. It's one thing to understand that someone might feel a gender identity that doesn't "match" their biological gender, or they may even choose sexual behaviors that are not "in line" with their sexual orientation. But to truly accept all five dimensions as valid, independent spectra of possibilities can be terrifying! Because what does that mean for me?!

I'm here to tell you: it's OK. It probably doesn't mean anything for you. Accepting that other people may be different doesn't mean that you yourself have to change. It doesn't put you on shaky ground, although accepting differences can sometimes make your own reality feel insecure. Even in a world with five dimensions, you are still allowed to be a straight person who feels at home in the body you were born in. Most people will still probably be straight, and comfy in their bodies, and prefer to follow some variation of traditional gender roles. That's cool. Accepting the variations will not destroy the world. You don't have to change your own identity or behaviors; just consider opening your mind and your heart and allowing everyone to be true to theirs.

Why I'm planning a homebirth (but you don't have to)

I can't sleep because I'm pissed off at Dr. Amy Teuter. Gods! I know I bring it on myself and I should just avoid the woman and her minions like the plague, but sometimes I just can't help myself.

For those of you who don't know about the infamous Dr. Amy, she's a rabidly anti-natural-birth blogger who's made a bit of a name for herself trolling natural childbirth (NCB) boards and spewing her venomous tirades. Her articles make my blood pressure spike and my eyes roll, they are so dripping with misinformation, condescension, laughably broad generalizations, and outright lies. The worst thing about her is that she doesn't even pretend to be interested in women's needs or desires, or even necessarily women's safety. She pretty much just advocates for one very strict, cookie-cutter type birth experience for ALL women; which is to say, a hospital birth, supine, sedated, most likely cut and most certainly "managed." She is an anti-choice monster. Needless to say, I am not a fan.

But the comments sections of these boards are where things get (very) slightly more nuanced and a little more interesting for me. They tend to boil down pretty rapidly to both sides of the issue shouting at one another: the NCB advocates yell that (s)OBs are money-grubbing, misogynistic men with God complexes the size of Texas who want to steal your birth power, make a quick buck and get to the golf course. The Teuterites counter that midwives are selfish, untrained, uneducated witches who spout off about trusting your body and being a birthing Goddess while mom lies bleeding in pain and baby lies dying. The two sides just shout and shout and no one listens and no one hears.

The reason this is interesting to me is because I honestly believe that both sides (but not Dr. Amy, of course) have their hearts in the right places, but that it all comes back to my 5-10% asshole theory. Both sides are so obsessed with the assholes on the other side, they are completely blind to reason, logic, or even the possibility of an open debate. I will concede right now that there are most certainly assholes on both sides. I've heard plenty of stories about OBs who bully and harass and shame and scare laboring women into unwanted interventions, then collect a tidy fee while patting themselves on the back for "saving the mother's life" after cutting her open and pulling the baby out in time to go home for dinner. I've also heard a horror story about a fatally incompetent midwife who encouraged a mother with broken waters and a high fever to continue laboring at home, only to dump her at a hospital four days later with a dead baby in her womb. (That story comes courtesy of Dr. Amy's website, but I believe that it probably happened.)

But can we please be sane and agree that any pregnant woman should run screaming from both these monsters? And can we please agree that neither of these characters are representative of either OBs or midwives as a whole? Can we please ignore the assholes and start talking about safe, quality options that cover a broader spectrum of birthing choices?

Here's the thing: I'm planning a homebirth with this pregnancy, and I'll tell you why. My body was designed to grow and birth a baby. It's pretty neat. I trust my body's ability to do this wondrous, freakishly bizarre and amazing thing. I also acknowledge that it's going to be a pretty intimate experience, and it's going to be a hell of a lot of hard work. Which is why I don't want to be doing it in front of a parade of strangers, or on any one else's clock, or by any one else's rules. When we talk about hospital birth, there are a lot of let yous: Will they let you labor without the monitor? Will they let you eat? How long will they let you push? Will they let you hold your baby right away and keep her with you? I am not interested in anyone letting me or not letting me do anything while I am doing the hardest work of my life. I know myself, I know my body and I know I will do the work better, easier, with less pain and less fear, if I do it on my own terms.

Some people think this mentality is selfish; that women who choose homebirth or NCB are doing it purely for the "experience" and have no concern about safety risks for their babies. I'm here to tell you: this is hogwash. Most of the women I know who have or are choosing NCB and/or a homebirth have spent a huge amount of time researching their options. For many of us, it has become a real passion. Yes, as in any group, there are some assholes who put more stock in the experience than the safety or the outcome. But most of us have done our homework, run the risk/benefit analysis for ourselves (and everyone has a different level of tolerance when it comes to risks vs. benefits), and made our decisions in the most educated way we know how.

One of the problems, of course, is lack of data. Despite what you might hear from both sides of the homebirth debate, there are no quality studies that show definitely whether or not homebirth in the United States is less, more or just as safe for mom or baby as hospital birth. Seriously. Not one study. Please, please somebody tell me there is a really good study out there. But, no, I'm pretty sure there isn't; I've looked and looked. That's because homebirth is such a comparatively rare thing in the US, it's very difficult to get enough numbers to prospectively or even retrospectively compare apples to apples. So, we just don't know. All the existing studies have some sort of flaw to their methodology which makes the conclusions difficult to apply to planned, low-risk homebirth in the US. But some studies show that homebirth is slightly safer, and some show that it is slightly less safe, and some show that it is safer for moms but riskier for their babies, and so on. So those of us who are passionate about it have had to sift through the conflicting and flawed data and reach our own conclusions.

I've reached mine. I feel like as long as my pregnancy and labor are low-risk, it is safe enough for me to have this baby at home where I can do my work with less stress and fewer interruptions. It'll be an easier birth for me, and by extension, an easier birth for my baby.

Does that mean that I shun modern medicine and believe that nothing can go wrong? Hell no! I was planning a homebirth last time, too, but I got sick with a potentially life-threatening condition at the end of my pregnancy. What did I do? I went to the hospital like a sane person, that's what I did. If you get sick, you need a doctor! My midwife caught the condition pretty early last time, and I got medical help before it got too serious. This time, I am once again trusting my midwife to catch anything that could become a problem. That's one of her jobs, and that's what she's trained to do. And I am so thankful that if something comes up, I have all the wonders of modern medicine at my disposal, less than 10 minutes away. I'm no Luddite, and I have no delusions about the potential risks of childbirth. I just feel confident that my plans ameliorate those risks as much as possible.

I feel more comfortable birthing at home. So what about a woman who feels more comfortable birthing in a hospital with a monitor and an epidural? I say: go for it! Who the hell am I to judge? I am not interested in forcing anyone to agree with my personal choices. I am interested in providing as many families as possible with a spectrum of quality choices and access to all the information they need to make their own best decisions. We are each of us individuals with our own strengths and weaknesses and fears and needs and resources. How on earth could anyone say there is only one valid choice?

But, dear gods, we are so eager to judge. We are so eager to tear each other down. I sometimes think parents are the worst offenders. Whether it's home vs. hospital, breast vs. bottle, circumcised vs. intact, cloth vs. disposable, stroller vs. carrier, crib vs. co-sleep, spanking vs. gentle discipline, the list goes on and on and on... As parents we judge and snipe and peck at each other like a bunch of chickens, like the commenters on the NCB and Dr. Amy boards. We compare and play the one-upsmanship game and turn ourselves into martyrs. It just makes me so sad. We should be supporting each other. Parenting is hard. We make it harder by being so fucking hard on each other.

Parents, next time you're about to make a snarky comment or think a judgmental thought about someone else's parenting, can you please just stop for a minute and remind yourself: we are each of us individuals with our own strengths and weaknesses and fears and needs and resources. We are each of us trying our hardest and doing our best, every single day. Let's cut each other some slack and give each other a little support for a change.

Class Warfare

I had an illuminating exchange on my friend Corrie's Facebook page this evening. One of her other friends, who I don't know, and I were discussing an article that was making the FB rounds today condemning the "Mythical Bootstraps College Student" photo, which has apparently also been making the rounds. Here's what Corrie's friend said:

I guess it goes both ways. People who believe that everyone enduring hardships "deserve it" and people who believe that everyone who has achieved success must have cheated or are greedy. Wish both sides would work towards an equitable solution.

That really got me thinking. The thing that struck me the most was that she had read the same article I had, but come away thinking that the author believed that everyone who achieves success are greedy cheaters. Which made me realize, and not for the first time, that a big part of our political divide is simple misperception. Once side says, "We should take responsibility for our own actions," and the other side hears, "Poor people are scum who deserve a miserable life." One side says, "Income inequality is a major problem," and the other side hears, "Rich people are greedy cheaters." On both sides, we become so enraged by the perceived insult that we cannot begin to appreciate, or even contemplate, the true message. And so it all devolves into so-called "class warfare."

So I thought I'd clarify my thoughts on the differences between the classes and who deserves what. I believe that most people are good, and a few, maybe 5-10%, are assholes. Further, I believe that the good and the asshole alike are probably spread pretty equally across all classes. That is, the vast majority of the rich people are good people who got to where they are through some fortunate combination of circumstance, luck, opportunity, smart choices and hard work, and the other 5-10% are assholes who are gaming the system. Conversely, the vast majority the poor are good people who got to where they are despite hard work and through some terrible combination of circumstance, bad luck, lack of opportunity and poor choices, and the other 5-10% are assholes who are trying to game the system.

I dunno. I thought at the outset that this is a pretty moderate position that most people could agree with, but looking at it now I see that may not be the case.

Anyway, assuming you agree with my 5-10% asshole theory, the next question is then of course: where do we go from there? I can see why some people would be hesitant to pay for the welfare of the poor, for fear of encouraging the assholes who are gaming the system. I can see why some people would wave signs reading "Eat the Rich," in anger over the assholes who are gaming that system. There's certainly a lot of room for argument and disagreement here.

I personally would prefer to ignore the assholes and try to do what might benefit the other 90% of us. Also, I'd rather pay potentially slightly higher taxes and live in a humane culture that provides a bare minimum of support for all its citizens, asshole or no. I'd like to see our society provide more opportunity for those who have the gumption to work for it (I believe that opportunity is currently in decline in this country, and has been for at least a decade). I also think it's obscene for anyone, asshole or no, to make more than, say, 1000x the national average household income; I don't care how hard you've worked or how good a person you are, no one deserves to have that much more than anyone else. Although I'm not entirely sure what can be done about it. At the very least, those people should be paying at least the same percentage of their income in taxes as average workers [ETA, apparently they already pay very slightly more. So that's good]. But those are just my thoughts on the matter.

What are yours?

[Another edit]
My proclamation that it's obscene to make more than 1000x the national average household income got me thinking. Obviously, if someone offered me $50 million a year to do my job, I wouldn't say no. So what would I do? Assuming about half went to taxes, that leaves me with a nice $25 million annually. My family could live comfortably off the interest of $25 million in decent investments, so after that first year here's what I'd do with the money: I'd hire a dozen or so people at six-figure salaries to come work for me; a tax lawyer and some social workers and councellors and tutors and stuff. Then I'd give a college education to a thousand or so single, poor parents every year. It'd be first-come first-serve, and if you were a single parent living below the poverty line in Minnesota, we'd pay your tuition and books. We could provide tax advice and help finding other social services for food and daycare and transportation and stuff like that. As long as you could get into and stay in school, we'd pay for it. Wouldn't that be lovely?

Occupy Wall Street

I'm probably going to have a lot more to say about this, but it's late and I just want to offload a few things from my brain so I can sleep.

First and foremost: I consider myself a progressive. So far, I agree more or less with EVERY grievance I have heard from the OWS protestors. So don't start trying to argue with me about the fact that there are some terrible inequalities happening around the world and right here in our country. I am not arguing with that.

I do, however, have a problem with the protests: the lack of any kind of positive solutions. I have yet to hear any of the protestors propose a SINGLE realistic solution to any one of their myriad grievances.

I get it: they are angry as hell, and they want to be heard. I understand completely.

But there's a name for that state of being. It's called a temper tantrum.

As the parent of a young child, I can easily recognize a temper tantrum:

I AM ANGRY AS HELL, AND I WANT TO BE HEARD!

As the parent of a young child, I also recognize the value of a temper tantrum, and, more importantly, the value of letting one play out. Because the anger is real, and it is destructive, and it needs to be released. And because the desire to be heard, to be validated, is more than a desire: it is a need. So the best thing to do in the case of a temper tantrum is to remove your child to a safe location then let it play out. It will ultimately play out. And after the kicking and flailing and screaming and crying is done, after the catharsis, then you can sit down and try to help your child figure out the cause, amd try to come up with solutions to help avoid future problems.

Unfortunately, too often it is too easy to just walk away after a tantrum; to say "well that happened, and now it's done" and then forget about it. And then the next time your child is hungry or tired or frustrated or whatever, you get another tantrum.

I sincerely hope that at some point, after this tantrum is over, the OWS protestors will have the presence of mind to sit down and figure out some solutions. There are problems that need to be solved, but anger alone won't solve them. We need solutions.

Thoughts on our healthcare system

I just posted a response to a new blog post by Jim Wright over at Stonekettle Station in which he eviscerates Michele Bachmann for her recent comments about the HPV vaccine. It's a great post, as usual. I love Jim and you should go read everything he has to say because the man is brilliant.

But he ended the post with a warning saying anti-vaxxers need not comment, and the anti-vax folks were further mocked and belittled in the comments section. And that kind of thing always bugs me. I do not consider myself an anti-vaxxer, per se, as I think I mentioned in my blog post about measles. But I do identify with them to some extent.

Anyway, it got me thinking about our healthcare system in general, and I wanted to jot down my thoughts before they flew away.

I think one of the biggest problems in our healthcare system is the industrialization of it. Don't you ever kind of feel like you're on an assembly line conveyor belt when you go to the doctor? You're passed from nurse to nurse to PA to doctor to nurse, poked prodded and measured a little at every step, and then you're on your way and out the door. When did medicine become a manufacturing process? I'm sure it has everything to do with economies of scale, which begs the question: why is it still so damned expensive? Anyway, for some reason this is what our health care system has become. And because each patient is treated basically the same, there is no room or time for customized care. So we are all treated like the lowest common denominator. Which feels pretty crappy.

I am not at all blaming the doctors, nurses and other healthcare professionals. They've spent a lot of time and effort and money and passion so that they can be in a profession that helps people. It must be a heartbreaking day when they discover they are essentially factory workers.

I don't know if it's the hospitals or the insurance companies or what it is, and I don't have a solution. But somewhere along the line something got broken and I don't think we're going to fix this mess until we address it. And that broken thing is the relationship between the us and our care providers.

We've got to somehow break away from this system of one-size-fits-most, assembly-line, COA medicine and get back a place where we are making conscientious healthcare choices in tandem with doctors and nurses we trust.

Ultimately, I think that's what the anti-vaxxers are revolting against. Some parents look at a system that treats every newborn the same, and that demands that every two-month-old be given 6 painful shots without a real explanation, and they say, "Wait a minute, that doesn't sound right..." Then they may ask, "Why are we doing this?" and they are given patronizing platitudes but no real explanation, and their trust in the motives of the system cracks a little. Then if, gods forbid, something happens to their child, who is at hand to conveniently blame?

I'm not saying it's right, that people spread misinformation and lies about the effects of vaccines. (And, once again for the record, it has been demonstrably shown that vaccines do NOT cause autism). But I can understand that it comes from a place of deep distrust which has been created by this major weakness in our healthcare system.

I can understand the distrust, because I feel it, too, and I wish I didn't.

Growing girl: weaned!

Back in January, I shared with you all my feelings about wanting to wean Ren before having a second child. Today, I believe that journey is finished! My friend Kari asked how I did it and in the interest of being lazy and not wanting to type it all out again. Here was my response:

So, the weaning necklace. I got the inspiration somewhere online, but kinda made it up as I went along, too. I started by telling Ren about the concept of weaning, and tried to make it sound really good, "you're a big girl!" and all that stuff. Then I told her about the weaning necklace, and I told her that as soon as she was ready, we'd go buy some beads and supplies to make a weaning necklace, and that once the necklace was finished, she'd be all done nursing. Very soon she told me she was ready to get started, so we went and bought the beads as a family. I let her pick them out (about 40 of them), and the cord, and she even picked out a little charm with an "R" on it that I told her we'd put on at the end. After that, every time she asked to nurse, I'd give her the choice of nursing or stringing a bead. Whenever she was mostly awake, she'd always choose a bead. If we were in bed and she was half asleep, she'd choose nursing. We started this back in February, and very quickly she was down to only a VERY brief nursing session first thing in the morning. She pretty much stopped asking in the day time. For a while, I even stopped asking her about the necklace, because when we're both half-asleep I'd rather nurse her than try to wake her up and get her interested in the necklace. ;) But since I got pregnant it's been painful to nurse, and there's no way I have any milk left anyway, so lately I've been encouraging her to string a bead now and then, even if she hasn't asked to nurse. I've always made it very clear that we're going at her pace and that she has a choice, but that once the necklace is done, that's it for good. These past couple days she's chosen to string a few beads each night, and tonight she was really happy to finish! Of course, she IMMEDIATELY asked to nurse, just to see what would happen and if I really meant it. I said no, you're all weaned now, and gave her some cuddles and hugs instead.

It's been a really gentle and fun way to urge her to self-wean, at a time when I needed her to be done. And I think she made a beautiful necklace, which will hopefully be a nice reminder of our nursing relationship for the rest of her life.

OK, me again. Of course I'm feeling awfully bitter-sweet about all this, even with Baby Jay on the way, and another potentially long nursing relationship around the corner. Then again, it's not really about the nursing, is it? It's about my little girl, who's growing up and becoming so independent. You all know what it's like: with one hand you want to push them out the door and with the other you want to clutch them to your heart. Anyway, I'm a little sad and a little proud and a lot relieved, but mostly I'm glad that I was able to give my daughter this time and closeness together and to make the end as peaceful as possible.

Here she is with her new necklace. Looks pretty happy, no?