My contribution to the Feminisms series tonight dovetails with last week's diary by Uniongal, so in some ways we’ll be continuing the discussion. But there will also some differences in focus.
First of all, this diary focuses strictly on the decision to be childfree. More explicitly, I’m focusing on the decision to put your body where your mouth is through voluntary sterilization. I am one of those people: when I was 31, childless and still single, I got a vasectomy. (And yes, that’s another way this diary is different...I’m a guy.)
Many women here last week spoke of their decision not to have children and of the pressures they felt. Tonight, I’ll tell my story, offering a man’s experience, just to set up the discussion. I'll then look at the how women have a much harder time getting a tubal than men have getting a vasectomy. Finally, we'll flip the issue and look at how race and class change the terms of debate over voluntary sterilization.
Please join me below!
But first, a word from our sponsor, on this, the first Wednesday of Women’s History Month and on the eve on International Women's Day.:
Feminisms is a series of weekly feminist diaries. My fellow feminists and I decided to start our own for several purposes: we wanted a place to chat with each other, we felt it was important to both share our own stories and learn from others’, and we hoped to introduce to the community a better understanding of what feminism is about.
Needless to say, we expect disagreements to arise. We have all had different experiences in life, so while we share the same labels, we don’t necessarily share the same definitions. Hopefully, we can all be patient and civil with each other, and remember that, ultimately, we’re all on the same side.
I knew as early as my teens that I didn’t want children. I knew it deep and strong, and by age 21 felt ready to get a vasectomy. Still, I acknowledged to myself that I was young for such a momentous decision, and decided that a waiting period was in order. If I didn’t change my mind by age 28, I told myself, I’d go under the knife. Seven years seemed enough time for a life to cycle through some major change-of-minds.
But at age 28, I was seriously involved with a woman who very much wanted to have children, and so, even though I was more certain than ever, I put off the decision. I suppose I kept hoping I could change her mind, or that she would just magically forget about children. Deep down I knew it was futile, but I was a fool in love. Fortunately, she was no fool. She broke off with me before long, throwing me over for the man who eventually became her husband and, yes, the father of her children.
My next relationship was with a woman who seemed to feel she did not want children, and she encouraged me to go ahead and get my vasectomy. It was very much a shared experience. She accompanied me to the clinic and was with me for the procedure. Artist that she was, she even asked the doctor if she could take Polaroids; once he got past his initial surprise, he agreed, and even, to my dismay, warmed to the idea, tugging my plumbing a bit further outside the incision so she could get a better shot.
I was absolutely aglow and euphoric, thrilled to be acting on one of my core beliefs. But my girlfriend...well, she seemed a bit nervous that day, and although we were together for several more increasingly tempestuous years, my vasectomy was probably the beginning of the end, because she wasn’t so certain she would never want children after all. Indeed, my vasectomy became emblematic for her of all her doubts about me: it was a unilateral action about which I could not compromise, and thus became an argument-ender—"Sure, you’ll compromise on [insert whatever topic under discussion], but what about your vasectomy?...You don’t give me any choice about whether I want children."
So ends another relationship. Now, your thirties is a tough decade to be a single man who doesn’t want kids and has the vasectomy to prove it. In last week’s Feminisms diary, at least 17 women commenters said they are fairly to absolutely sure they don’t want children, but let’s face it: the demographic here is a probably a bit skewed. When I was in my thirties, a lot of women in my age group were a) still raising young children from an earlier, busted marriage, or b) still childless and starting to worry that time was running out.
Even for those who did not feel strongly one way or the other about having children, my flat refusal raised a red flag: not wanting children was either a devious ploy to avoid commitment, or else indicative of some deep psychological maladjustment. A man who did not want children was a man unable to commit, someone abnormal, anti-social, selfish and immature, someone who refuses to grow up, or is incapable of doing so. A man with a vasectomy was even more suspect: this was a man who denied even the possibility of changing his mind.
I didn’t believe those terrible things about myself. Nevertheless, I'd continually probe a bit deeper into my psyche, and always would once again find that singular, bedrock truth: I did not want children.
I lucked out in the end. I met a fabulous woman twelve years older than me, who had two grown and out-on-their-own children, which sidestepped the whole problem. We’ve been together for 13 years now, and my relationship with her is the most treasured thing in my life. But one of the other most treasured decisions of my life is getting that vasectomy. I still smile, 20 years later, every time I think about it.
OK, enough of my story. Let's get into some issues.
Once I made the decision, of course, actually getting a vasectomy was no problem. Planned Parenthood did ask me to speak to a counselor first, but the interview was short and perfunctory. I only had to state the most basic outlines of my reasons: that I’d been 11 years old when my twin brother and sister had been born, and thus had a keen appreciation of how much of a parents’ life is devoted to child-rearing; that although I’d had a happy childhood, I very much enjoyed adulthood and found the prospect of reliving learning that 1+1=2 and that the earth revolves around the sun to be a very dull prospect; that I desired to make my contribution to society through writing and through working for causes, and that I did not want to have to divide my energy between that and parenthood; that I liked adults, with their complex histories, experiences and attitudes, and that I did not desire having the huge influence on a forming person as parents have on children; that because I did not want children, I felt glad to have the freedom to further in some small way some of my political beliefs, by reducing my environmental footprint by not bringing another life into the world, and by taking on the responsibility for birth control (most methods of which fall on women, have side effects and alarmingly high rates of failure.)
Yes, my interview was short and perfunctory, but from what I gather, it isn’t so easy for a woman to find a doctor to perform to perform a tubal. There are plenty of women’s horror stories out there, but hardly any from men. Just a few examples can be found HERE, HERE, HERE and HERE, respectively:
I am 47 years old, a marketing professional, and I love my life....Part of my life story is 3 abortions (one was called a TOP - termination of pregnancy) in England in 1975. I was 17 years old. I had found myself pregnant and very independent. I took a train from London, where I was going to school, to Brighton, and had a TOP.... Did I regret my choice? No ... my independent nature and courage to go through the procedure on my own, with no one to help shoulder the burden, only reaffirmed the decision I had made when I was very, very young - that I didn’t want children, would never want children and would never regret not having children (all of which has come true).... [S]o let's fast forward to age 26.
I had asked my GP repeatedly to refer me for a tubal ligation. She refused - you see, I might change my mind ... might regret doing it and want children at some future date ... "stay on the pill" ... even if it makes you feel sick and tired, increases your risk of breast cancer, and ...oh, yeah, lose the lotto ... pregnant again. So, down to the local clinic here in Canada, and $476 later, pregnant no more....
Fast forward once again to 33. Finally, I am allowed to get a tubal. Oh glorious day - oh long awaited freedom from fear of pregnancy!! Oh drat - a 5 month waiting list! Oh well...onward and upward ... and, yes, once again ... pregnant.
One would think that a 33 year old, intelligent, worldly and sensible woman would know how NOT to get pregnant! After TOP #1, I had become paranoid! I was fanatic about taking the pill as prescribed. I was meticulous with it. When the morning after pill became available, and if I thought there had been the slightest chance that the condom had broken or that there was spillage or that I hadn't taken my pill on time, I had rushed to a clinic to get it. So, my final abortion was performed at the local hospital to the tsk'ing of a nurse who judged me as immoral.... (I had the tubal shortly after – I suspect I would be just as fertile today had I not).
I had a tubal ligation at the age of 44. I had wanted one since I knew what one was, but when I looked into it in my 20s, the rules were hard, fast and completely paternalistic. I wasn't to have a tubal unless I had kids, until I was 40. No exceptions. Thanks, daddy-doctors for making sure I wasn't allowed to screw up your expectations of my life by making my own choices....I was sick of using my diaphragm, I was unable to use hormonal birth control, and I was screamingly tired of wondering if this was the month I was going to have to schedule an abortion because the diaphragm just didn't work.
While standards for tubals have changed, gynecologists haven't. This guy gave me a whole lot of attitude. I didn't resent his trying to get me to consider other forms of birth control since, in good medical practice, surgery should always be avoided if possible. I did resent his question about whether my husband agreed with my decision to have the tubal. I said to him "Yes, however, it would not make any difference if he did not agree. This is MY decision." After that he stopped asking me questions, though he did throw in a few barbs. He seemed basically competent and I didn't want to go through the whole long wait again, so we agreed on a date. Although my state has no waiting period for sterilization, the reality is that doctors have waiting periods for appointments, and I knew it would be a while before I could get another consultation, and then a further wait for a slot in the surgical schedule. I also knew that my life wasn't in the hands of someone who would be making a 1/2 inch incision in my belly, but in those of the anesthesiologist. Changing gynecologists wasn't going to improve my chances of getting a good one.
Some background: At the time of my tubal ligation I was out of birth control options. Most brands of the Pill left me violently ill. The ones I could tolerate left me fat, depressed, and gave me horrible, nauseous headaches. I had used a diaphragm for many years but had constant yeast infections, although I kept the diaphragm scrupulously clean. I asked for the tubal, but got the usual static from my ob-gyn, who urged me to try a Pill I had taken in my twenties. I took that pill for three days and ended up in the hospital. I vomited to the point of dehydration and I had ruptured blood vessels in my face. At this point my ob-gyn relented and agreed to perform the procedure.
It was very important to me to have the procedure before I was married. This was for two reasons. I knew many states require the spouse to sign a consent form. My husband assured me that consent wouldn't be a problem, but I believed then, as I do now, that nobody should have the power to"consent" to what an individual does with his or her body. I feel this way, by the way, whether the person is male or female. If a man wants a vasectomy, the only consent he needs is his own. I wanted no part of the"consent" process. The second reason was to make my stance crystal clear. I suspected that my husband, who had raised a child that was not his, was not as decided on the matter as I was, even though he was several years older. This would make things perfectly clear prior to the wedding.
According to New Mexico legislature, any woman can have a tubal ligation upon turning 21 years of age.... . The day following
my 21st birthday, I scheduled a consultation with a local OB/GYN surgeon for a tubal. I was turned away because of a loophole in the legal diction: any woman, 21 years or older, was legally able to get a tubal, while any surgeon was legally able to refuse performing the procedure. I crawled away from the doctor’s office that day shocked from the rejection, as well as from the reasons for the rejection.
I saw a tubal ligation as a means for reproductive liberation; a chance to enjoy sex with my partner without worrying if there were enough chemicals in my body to prevent pregnancy. The doctor—a female—did not see the operation in the same light. She believed I was looking for an easy way out of the weight gain caused by regular birth control methods like the pill. The woman castigated me for shirking my "responsibilities." She could not fathom how a healthy female, capable of reproduction, would choose not to do so. She told me all women were meant to have babies and I must be a terrible person to not want to.
Don't despair! You do find good stories too, including those of our own lorzie and InquisitiveRaven here at DKos.
Although abortion and, to a lesser extent, contraception (especially the morning-after pill) get most of the press, the religious right is equally hostile to women getting tubals:
The debate over the right of conscience in health care is far from new. After the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision, many states passed laws protecting doctors and nurses who did not want to perform abortions. Oregon's 1994 legalization of physician-assisted suicide lets doctors and nurses decline to participate.
The clash resurfaced with antiabortion pharmacists refusing to fill prescriptions for the morning-after pill. But recent interviews with dozens of health-care workers, patients, advocates, ethicists, legal experts and religious and medical authorities make it clear that the issue is far broader. Many health-care workers are asserting a right of conscience in many settings....Some anesthesiologists refuse to assist in sterilization procedures. (my emphasis)
The odious anti-abortion website Army of God devotes a sizeable section to an anti-vasectomy and tubal ligation screed as well.
The anti-abortion tactic of professing to want to ‘help’ women by making sure they are aware of the scourge of "post-abortion syndrome" finds its parallel in the "Post Tubal Ligation Syndrome. The website tubal.org, which I’m sure draws many ‘net-searchers seeking information, is devoted to scaring women off the procedure under the guise of protecting them from doctors who withhold information:
Post Tubal Ligation Syndrome (PTLS) aka PTS is linked with:
• Castrative Menopause
• Severe Hormone Imbalance
• Ovarian Isolation (Post Hysterectomy, Post Tubal Ligation)
• Atrophic Ovaries
• Hormone Shock
• Increased Risk of Heart Disease
• Bone Loss and Osteoporosis
• Dysfunctional Uterine Bleeding (DUB)
• PMS
• Endometriosis
• Adenomyosis
• Severe Pelvic Adhesions
• Misplacement of Female Organs
• Decreased Lactating Ability
These medical dangers seem vastly over-inflated, and therefore designed to frighten women away from the decision to have a tubal. The overwhelming evidence seems to indicate that tubals carry no more risk than one would face undergoing any surgical procedure or any tinkering with the body’s mechanisms. After all, vasectomies also have plenty of potential post-op complications such as hematomas, long-term pain, inflammation resulting from sperm granuloma, etc., as well as some studies claiming a link to higher instances of prostate or testicular cancer, but the overwhelming data indicate that the procedure is safe. Post Tubal Syndrome websites also heavily emphasize that a women may suffer from feelings of regret and from depression.
Clearly, women who do not want children are subjected to a lot of social pressure, and those who seek sterilization suffer an onslaught from rightwingers, fundamentalists and from paternalism in the medical community that is directly parallel to the tactics used by anti-abortionists.
But now it's time to flip the argument. It seems that the right to choose sterilization can have a whole different meaning from the perspective of the poor and of women of color.
I confess that as I thought about this diary, I was working mainly from a white and middle-class outlook, and thus came very late to thinking about this last point. It was only last Sunday, while clicking through a link on righteousbabe's Blogroll, that I came across this post on the blog That Girl Has Issues:
So, now I'm thinking about my own potential offspring. I keep thinking that, besides my own philosophical concerns about pregnancy, the most moral thing to do is to adopt some child who is doomed to some extent anyway b/c she's already here. Might as well love her like hell and raise her to be a resilient bad ass.
I'm also thinking about genocide. I'm not a nationalist, but I also know that my people have it hard in terms of survival, what with the prison industry, HIV, infant mortality, poverty, stress, and so on. I'm a feminist who laughs bitterly at the idea of women having babies for the movement. But I think that I have avoided thinking about children for so long until they were literally in my face partly because they trigger existential crises about whether or not my people can weather...I don't know, the weather. (Katrina, anyone)?.... Further, for Black people and Native folks -- people who have high infant mortality rates specifically because of racism (not just classism, but racism) -- every child seems like a prayer on behalf of all of us. Exist.)
The existence of a strain of thought among some women of color that regards childbearing as a necessary response to the perception that social policy is inflicting a de facto genocide on your race was quite daunting to me at first. To look at it metaphorically, it is as if people feel so powerless that their primary contribution can only be to surge more soldiers into the war rather than work to stop the war itself. But the more I looked into it, the more I saw it as a valid moral supposition.
Take, for example, the group Project Prevention (formerly known as CRACK--Children Requiring a Caring Kommunity.) Here's the deal on them:
"We don’t allow dogs to breed. We spay them. We neuter them. We try to keep them from having unwanted puppies, and yet these women are literally having litters of children." These are the words of Barbara Harris, a 47–year–old homemaker from Stanton, California, who has started an organization called Children Requiring a Caring Kommunity (CRACK). Despite its benevolent name, CRACK’s primary goal is to promote population control by paying $200 to women with substance abuse problems who can document that they have been sterilized or are using long–term birth control such as Norplant, Depo–Provera or an IUD.
Since its founding in November 1997, Harris’ nonprofit organization has reached 158 women, 91 of whom were permanently sterilized by tubal ligation. To solicit "clients," CRACK has placed large billboards in Black and Latino communities in Los Angeles. The billboard advertisements offer to pay $200 to drug users in exchange for their sterilization. Some of the billboards simply say, "Don’t Let A Pregnancy Ruin Your Drug Habit." Others read, "If You Are Addicted To Drugs, Get Birth Control–Get $200 Cash." To promote its sterilization campaign, CRACK plans to place more billboards in dozens of other cities nationwide.
Or take, for example, just a few passages from Dorothy Robert’s book Killing the Black Body: Race, Reproduction and the Meaning of Liberty:
In 1989, officials in Charleston, South Carolina initiated a policy of arresting pregnant women whose prenatal tests revealed they were smoking crack. In some cases, a team of police tracked down expectant mothers in the city’s poorest neighborhoods. In others, officers invaded the maternity ward to haul away patients in handcuffs and leg irons, hours after giving birth....All but one of the four dozen women arrested for prenatal crimes in Charleston were Black....A controversial editorial in the Philadelphia Inquirer suggested coerced contraception as a solution to the black underclass...by implanting them with the long-acting contraceptive Norplant [My note...this editorial was in 1990]....State legislatures across the country are considering measures designed to keep women on welfare from having babies—a goal also advanced by Newt Gingrich’s Contract With America and then incorporated in the newly enacted federal welfare law....The emerging agenda is reminiscent of government-sponsored programs as late as the 1970s that coerced poor Black women by the thousands into being sterilized.
Or take a look at the recently published Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present, by Harriet Washington. In the chapter entitled "The Black Stork," we read:
By 1983, when blacks constituted only 12 percent of the population, 43 percent of the women sterilized in federally-funded family planning programs were African Americans....
Most sterilizations of poor black women have been performed outside the law and in violation of medical mores....When the SPLC [Southern Poverty Law Center] filed a class-action lawsuit to end the use of federal funds for involuntary sterilization, its lawyers discovered that 100,000 to 150,000 women had been sterilized using federal funds and that half these women were black....
Sometimes the physician removed the woman's uterus on some pretext after coercing or tricking her into assent for unnecessary sterilization. The women were sterilized while unconscious....In the South, rendering black women infertile without their knowledge was so common that the procedure was called a "Mississippi appendectomy."
What a chilling phrase: 'Mississippi appendectomy.' In any case, I've come to understand that for some, the important choice is not whether you will be allowed to get a tubal if you so choose, but rather being free to NOT get one.
Well, I’ve thrown a heavy twist to the discussion here at the end! I hope you don’t mind if I exit with a somewhat lighter postscript. My wife’s oldest son, now in his late thirties, finally married a couple years ago, and two months ago they had a baby boy. Yep, I’m a grandfather! They live 1500 miles away, so in practice I won’t see the little guy that often, but I’m actually looking forward to the occasional visits. I don’t hate kids (if you nose around the childfree support websites, you’ll find a lot of rhetorical kid-bashing). It will be fun every once in a while have the to play with a child, watch him grow up, and do my small bit to guide him toward becoming a good liberal feminist global citizen. Yeah, it’ll be fun being a grandfather. But I am soooo glad to have skipped that intermediate fatherhood stage!
A long diary, I know. Hope you've stayed with me, and I'm looking forward to your personal stories and political thoughts...