pregnancy

Ourselves Unborn: A History of the Fetus in Modern America

mandy — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Sara Dubow navigates the complexities of an impassioned and divisive issue in Ourselves Unborn. She takes a calculated historical look at how Americans have interpreted the fetus and pregnancy throughout ever-shifting political realities. Her thesis: Americans have cast their social and cultural anxieties onto the fetus, which often results in abortion-related policies that serve ulterior motives.

Dubow explains that, for centuries, Americans’ insecurities about racial, social, and economic issues were projected onto the bodies of pregnant women. In the nineteenth century, for example, when White Americans were consumed with taking over western territories, abortion politics became paramount. Women were urged to reproduce in order to populate the expanding country, and the fetus became not a private symbol of a growing family, but a social symbol of a growing nation. Racial tensions about the decreasing fertility rate among White Protestant women were played out on the fetus, and women’s role as mothers became even more of a national imperative.

I’m glad the author points out that these biased sentiments are not linked to one historical moment; instead, she writes that this theme resonates in recent Islamophobic statements about the need for Christian women to increase their fertility rates to match those of Muslim women.

Dubow explains the many ways in which otherwise inexplicable phenomena were projected onto the fetus. Unsure about the scientific and medical aspects of human development, social ills were found to be rooted in pregnancy. Dubow shares information about how social problems from drunkenness to criminality were traced back to mothers’ emotional states during pregnancy. The mother was always the culprit.

Stretching into the twentieth century, Ourselves Unborn is punctuated by cases where pregnant women were considered medically incompetent. These cases highlight how the medical and legal professions painted pregnancy as a mysterious state where the fetus takes precedent and a woman becomes simply a vessel for new life. Dubow describes how the “fetal pain” and “abortion trauma” mantras of the 1980s played into this narrative.

Dubow ends her discussion with the 2007 Gonzalez v. Carhart case, a 5-4 decision that upheld the Partial Birth Abortion Ban Act without an exception for the health of the woman. The decision portrays Dubow's points with stark clarity, as Justice Kennedy supports his decision is by claiming the Court is protecting women from a decision they would later regret. Readers can understand that Kennedy is not concerned with the unborn, but with the proper place of women in society. That proper place, as dictated by centuries of policy, is a child-bearer.

Using Dubow’s lens, today’s abortion controversies relate to larger questions about the interplay of race and gender in American politics. This can be seen in the GOP’s recent attacks on Planned Parenthood and state laws that curtail abortion rights. Dubow’s theories illustrate how these and similar anti-abortion efforts stem more from policymakers' discomfort with women’s agency in making their own medical choices rather than from a sincere desire to protect fetuses.

Written by: Andrea Gittleman, April 7th 2011

Cuntastic

andrea — Sun, 12 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

By Laurel Ripple Carpenter

With the popularization of blogs and personal websites in the past decade, there has been a sharp decline in the zine phenomena. I have longed for the days when the magazine rack at independent bookstores was lined with photocopied feminist zines, daring to say the things mainstream magazines cannot. Thankfully, there are still some zinesters willing to invest the time and money needed to undertake the taxing task of putting out a zine. Radical doula Laurel Ripple Carpenter is one of these few remaining idealists (however, a blog version of her zine does exist at blog.cuntastic.org).

As the name would imply, Cuntastic deals with “all things cunt,” meaning anything related to reproductive health, pregnancy, sexuality, etc. As Carpenter is both a doula and a mother, the zine has a large focus on pregnancy and children. The premiere issue, focusing on pregnancy and placentas, delved into multiple women’s experiences of being pregnant, including Carpenter herself. Carpenter shares her own pregnancy journal, giving an honest account of the concerns, fears, and elation a new mother faces. Another new mommy also gives an account of using a midwife assisted birth as opposed to a hospital birth, noting her reasoning behind her preference. As someone who has never been pregnant, or contemplated pregnancy, it was fascinating to read multiple graphic descriptions of the experience of being pregnant and giving birth. The zine also deals with the squeamish issue of new mothers taking placenta pills or eating their placenta, offering instructions both for tablets as well as meals meant to complement the inclusion of placentas.

The second issue, the menstruation issue, deals with women’s’ experiences with their menstrual cycle and alternative menstrual products like cups (i.e The Keeper) and sea sponges. The zine explores menstrual related traditions such as “menarche parties” for girls who receive their first periods. (There is also a humorous story from a male writer on his first time having sex with woman during her menstrual cycle.)

The third issue, the radical parenting issue, deals with feminists (and other left wing folk) becoming parents. The issue asks such key questions as how to not gender condition a child, how to go without disposable diapers, and generally how to raise a child while sticking to your ideals. It is fascinating to see the issue of motherhood explored by feminists as this was often a murky issue for the movement in the past. It is inspiring to hear about women using their feminist ideologies to raise their children. Within the issue, Carpenter also details her experience going into labor while at a DNC protest.

Overall, Carpenter has created a compelling and likable feminist zine with Cuntastic, in which she answers such questions commonly discussed by feminists (menstruation) and questions that need further exploration (motherhood and pregnancy.) I hope to see future issues of Cuntastic soon and hear more about Carpenter and her new life as a feminist mother.

Written by: Adrienne Urbanski, December 12th 2010

Le Refuge (The Refuge)

priyanka — Sun, 10 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Francois Ozon

France 2 Cinéma, FOZ, Eurowide

A film like Francois Ozon’s Le Refuge could only be French. It is beautifully shot, populated with complicated and not and entirely likable characters, and deals with taboo subject matters in a nuanced fashion. The film centers on Mousse (Isabelle Carré), a sharp-tongued young woman who struggles with heroin addiction. When her lover Louis (Melville Poupaud) dies from and overdose and she finds out she’s pregnant, she decides to keep the baby against the wishes of Louis’ aristocratic mother and escapes Paris for a beach-getaway in rural France. Later, Louis’ brother Paul (Louis Ronan-Choisy) joins her there and the movie evolves from that point.

While this subject matter sounds overly dramatic, Francois Ozon treats the story and his characters in a matter-of-fact manner and lets the movie center around the characters, their dialogue, and their internal struggles. This is what makes this film so French—there’s no drama and moralizing around subjects like sexuality, pregnancy, abortion and drugs. Mousse is allowed to develop into a multidimensional character, something that often feels like a luxury for American actresses.

Carré is glamorous and sullen. There are plenty of lingering shots on her heavily mascaraed eyelashes to recall French starlets of French New Wave films. Especially striking is the scenes of Mousse on the beach with a graffiti cover seawall behind her and dancing under pulsing strobes in a dance club. Ozon is an equal opportunity director and he also lets his camera linger on Paul and his lover Serge, whom he meets in the town. Music also serves to advance the plot of the film and key scenes are underscored with songs by Texas, Superpitcher, and Louis Ronan-Choisy.

This film is not one that would appeal to mainstream American audiences, which is why they should make an effort to seek it out. It is as unsettling as it is beautiful. It does not make a political or moral statement, but is daring, complex and unconventional and visually striking.

Written by: Eleanor Whitney, October 10th 2010

Knocked Up, Knocked Down: Postcards of Miscarriage and Misadventure from the Brink of Parenthood

admin — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Monica Murphy Lemoine

Catalyst Book Press

This book is not just for those that have experienced a miscarriage. Let’s make that clear. Yes, Knocked Up, Knocked Down: Postcards of Miscarriage and Other Misadventures from the Brink of Parenthood is all about the journey of healing from the great loss of being pregnant, physically caring for this baby within, then suddenly having parenthood ripped from beneath you. It’s a horrendous experience. However, what this book does best is open up that harsh reality to everyone who has never experienced it. Too often those that suffer through miscarriage or stillbirth feel outcast. While people generally know how to react to the death of a family member or friend, the death of an unborn child is confusing territory. The worst: some people just don’t understand how terribly painful that loss is. Reading this book will change that.

Knocked Up, Knocked Down is a very personal account of Monica Murphy Lemoine’s experience of entering motherhood, but ending up without a baby. How do you heal from such a confusing and heartbreaking experience? While it’s different for everyone, Monica found that most of the grieving literature in regards to miscarriages and stillbirths wasn’t at all helpful. If anything, she found it to be patronizing and irritating. While she tried many of the suggestions, her journey of finding out for herself what helps and what just makes it worse is helpful for anyone in a similar circumstance or anyone wanting to understand those that are.

As far as the writing itself, with a jarring, crass beginning, and slow character development, it takes at least thirty pages before you even begin to feel like you’re truly getting to know the author. Even though she shares plenty of personal information right from the beginning, there’s not much of an introduction. The story begins forty-eight hours after her miscarriage, jumping right into the focus of this journey, but you feel like you’re playing catch up trying to get to know her.

Once you get about fifty pages into this 200 page book, it all starts to come together. All of the introductions are finally explained with sufficient back-story to feel like you personally know Monica and her husband Kevin. Once that’s in place, it’s easier to understand, relate, and feel great compassion for this couple as they try to heal from their loss. Is Knocked Up, Knocked Down a bit depressing? You bet. But will it give you new perspective? Absolutely! This book is completely worth the read.

You would think with miscarriages and stillbirth being as common as it is (as Monica points out, the International Stillbirth Alliance states that 4.5 million stillbirths occur worldwide each year), that this topic would be addressed more often. But the truth is, it’s not. Good for Monica helping others feel less alone and providing everyone else with the means to begin to comprehend. Plus, readers can continue to follow Monica through her blog. After reading her book, you are sure to wonder “What happens next?” and, fortunately, with her blog the journey continues.

Monica manages to bring you inside her world and allows you to share in her experiences, both the good and the bad, without making you feel like a voyeur. She opens up in a way that feels like family, a really close-knit and brutally honest family. No doubt you’ll walk away from reading her story a little wiser and much more empathetic.

Written by: Sarah Eve Nichols-Fulghum, July 22nd 2010

Daughters of Empire: A Memoir of a Year in Britain and Beyond

admin — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Jane Satterfield

Demeter Press

The poet and essayist Jane Satterfield writes a hauntingly discontinuous prose-poem about a sort of exile. To those of us with dual citizenship—or, perhaps, to those for whom home is two places, neither tidily reconcilable with the other—Daughters of Empire speaks poignantly to the longing for connection between past and present, mother and daughter, literary inspiration, and career frustration.

The author here teases us with the possibility of a conventional narrative of exile: what will happen when a woman who spent most of her formative years in the United States becomes pregnant and has a child while being cast aside by a prospective employer and emotionally abandoned by a narcissistic and controlling husband? Will she find in this land of her birth and ancestry an escape from the soul-deadening labor of fixed-term teaching in American institutions, and instead find joy in teaching Larkin and Plath and Heaney and Hughes to students who understand and appreciate the value of being taught by a working poet? Will she find in the geography of her own imagination the spiritual bond to the Brontë sisters that she seeks?

Our relationship to place is similarly discontinuous, and home, whatever that means, is an ongoing negotiation. Satterfield’s narrator is unstuck in time, just as she is unstuck geographically, so we get poetically rich spots of memory: “I stand on Charlotte Brontë’s front steps, thinking I’m going to be sick,” she tells us on the first page—either a vertiginous reaction to this confrontation with her nineteenth-century literary forbearer, or perhaps a bit of first-trimester nausea. And then suddenly it’s several years earlier, and she’s a different sort of exile, not quite fitting in to this group of students or that literary community brought together in American college towns. And then she’s a punk, a Johnny Rotten, but with much more ambivalent feelings towards Queen and country.

And then she’s in Corby, a “piss hole in the dead heart of England” where she was born, traveling with her mother through a reconstruction of her own ancestry and her mother’s shared dual sense of place. But then, heartbreakingly, she’s starving emotionally and perhaps physically as a mother estranged from her husband, whose Fulbright Exchange, in the mid-1990s, was in part responsible for this year in England which serves as a potent but unstable center of this narrative.

Because of the evocative power of her memory and the clarity of her language, she draws the reader willingly into this vortex. And yet, she resists closure. Does she find career fulfillment? Can she bridge the imaginative/historical gaps and construct a satisfactory home? Can she free herself from this dreadful relationship? The memoir asks instead that we participate in her desires, in her lyrical remembrance, in her evocative moments that shuttle back and forth through time, woven together by her search for identity, for her discovery of home.

Written by: Rick Taylor, April 27th 2010

Creating a Life: The Memoir of a Writer and Mom in the Making

admin — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Corbin Lewars

Catalyst Book Press

Some books are pure pleasure, an escape, and others give us more to ponder. Some books allow us to reach down deep to the hidden place of our most private thoughts. Creating a Life is the latter kind.

Creating a Life is not just a memoir about giving birth to both a child and a life; it is a stunning tribute to the audacity it takes to reclaim one’s self. Corbin Lewars has given a voice to each and every woman who has experienced sexual abuse. One out of four girls has suffered childhood sexual abuse, a statistic provided in the introduction to warn the reader of the immensity of the author’s story.

In the beginning of the book, Lewars is honest about her obsession with having a baby. But her husband Jason is still deciding whether he wants a baby or not. In an attempt to satisfy her whirling emotions, she decides to get a Master’s degree while also remodeling her house. Her efforts do not quench her needs, and the reader is given glimpse after glimpse into her personal hell.

Jason finally agrees to procreate, and Lewars goes full steam into conception. The couple becomes pregnant in no time, only to lose the baby in the first trimester. Lewars enters an intense mourning period. Every memorable book has an instance when the reader experiences a point of light, and it was here that I began to engage with the author’s "real" story.

Lewars remembers a rape that occurred when she was twelve, a rape she had repressed since it happened. She comes to realize much of her dissatisfaction with her life is a byproduct of this denial. The memory of the rape sends her into therapy, where she promises to resolve her own issues before becoming a mother. With this clear plan, Lewars sets about fulfilling her quest to become whole. But the best made plans can change. She becomes pregnant again.

Creating a Life is one of the most exquisite and brave memoirs I have read in years. The message of hope and dedication is universal and steps outside the confines of the story itself, reaching women of all ages. As a writer, woman, and mother, I’m humbled by this beautiful, courageous book. Many life lessons are here for the learning.

Written by: Ann Hite, March 10th 2010

A Scandal of Choice

admin — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Allyson Whipple

The president is pregnant. What a provocative idea. How would the country, still so new to the idea of a female president, feel about her pregnancy? How would Congress react? What would the media say? How would the rest of the world react, especially in countries where female oppression is common? How would the president do her job while pregnant? She would have to fly for work, have meetings during prime morning sickness hours, and be on her feet all day long. What if the baby’s father, who is not her husband, wanted nothing to do with the child? Surely, those would be huge obstacles to overcome.

Now imagine that, due to years of sexual scandals by Democratic presidents, the now pregnant female president faces a law dictating that the president had to remain celibate while in office, even if he or she was married. Now the pregnancy, which would be impossible to hide after month six, would be illegal, and lead to an impeachment. That makes the matter infinitely more complicated. How would her staff, which depends on her for their livelihoods, react to her indiscretion? What would the Supreme Court say on the matter?

All of these questions are interesting, thought provoking, and worth answering. However, if you are reading Allyson Whipple’s A Scandal of Choice, not one of them would be addressed. Her story centers on President Lydia Worth, cousin to the first female president Lisa Finn, author of the aforementioned celibacy clause, and her struggle upon becoming pregnant not long into her first term as president. The story starts out promising, but ultimately, feels poorly thought-out, ill researched, and weakly written.

There are two characters in the story that are developed, Lydia and her best friend/gynecologist, Melanie. There are almost no other characters. Thomas, the speechwriter/baby daddy, pops in once or twice, just to disavow the child to try and save himself. At this point in the story, I thought it might be an interesting mediation on the concept of choice—that a pregnant woman with the option to have an abortion would chose not to—but I was sorely mistaken.

Lydia does nothing, as far as I can tell, as president. She does not have to travel, has no work to do, and is able to visit her friend in Connecticut without anyone noticing. Even her Secret Service detail don’t really care that much. There is no Chief of Staff, no staff at all really, no Congress members, no press, no American public. Take out the president title, and the story could have been a Lifetime television movie.

In addition, the governmental aspects of this story make absolutely no sense. Even if you give Ms. Whipple the premise that an amendment demanding celibacy would pass, she clearly has no idea about impeachment proceedings. She has the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court presiding over the Senate while arguments are heard, and witnesses are sworn in on a Bible. As far as I can tell, the impeachment hearings in the story are set up exactly like a trial scene from Law and Order, right down to the defendant hugging her lawyer at the end.

Despite a wonderful story idea, the execution of this novella is pretty bad.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, February 18th 2010

Get Me Out: A History of Childbirth from the Garden of Eden to the Sperm Bank

admin — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 09:00:00 +0000

By Randi Hutter Epstein

W.W. Norton

When researching medical or social history, one of the things that often becomes apparent is the level of mystery that surrounded women’s bodies and bodily functions. This mystery and speculation is the subject of Randi Hutter Epstein’s Get Me Out. As the title suggests, Hutter Epstein, a medical journalist, presents an overview of ideas related to conception, pregnancy, and childbirth spanning from antiquity to the modern day. While it is easy to laugh at some of the mistaken notions from the past (and some of them are, indeed, hilarious and/or terrifying), Hutter Epstein also makes sure to note the unknowns that still surround these processes today.

One thing that Get Me Out makes very clear is the way in which pregnancy and childbirth—and, therefore, women’s bodies—have continuously been the subjects of experimentation. This has sometimes been to women’s benefit, but all too often to their detriment. Early medical texts were written by monks who were not only excluded from the delivery room due to their gender (only women were allowed to attend childbirth) but were also likely completely unfamiliar with women’s bodies, leading to a lot of guesswork. Hutter Epstein describes disturbing experiments on female slaves that did eventually produce positive results, but at unknown cost to the women experimented upon. Another type of experimentation Hutter Epstein recounts is pain suppression during childbirth. Get Me Out describes the contradictory views of women towards drug use during childbirth over time: from these drugs being a part of women’s liberation to the drugs being a tool of subjugation.

The key strengths of Get Me Out are the fascinating nature of the information it provides and the book’s readability. Get Me Out is incredibly engaging. As Hutter Epstein notes in the title, this is a history; she does not attempt to tell the history. This approach allows her to describe some of the high (or low) points of ideas and processes from antiquity to the nineteenth century in the first few chapters, and then focus the rest of the book on the twentieth century. Even with the volume of material presented, I appreciated that Hutter Epstein did not rigidly confine herself to the topic at hand. The book is peppered with footnotes that provide additional, often tangential, information. At one point, the author uses a footnote to discuss the differences in the sperm trade between humans and thoroughbred horses. It is clear that Hutter Epstein has a very curious mind, which has led to her creating an interesting, funny, illuminating, enjoyable book.

Written by: Erin Schowalter, December 27th 2009

Mama PhD: Women Write about Motherhood and Academic Life

admin — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 16:58:00 +0000

Edited by Elrena Evans and Caroline Grant

Rutgers University Press

At the beginning of the second year of my MA program in English, I found out that one of my advisors was pregnant. I’ll never forget what she said to me: “You know, you would think that academia would be a supportive place to have a kid. It’s so not.” She was a then-junior faculty member, and would put off going up for tenure for two years.

When I started reading the individual essays in Mama PhD, I realized that my advisor’s story was the rule rather than the exception. The collection is divided into four sections, “Part One: The Conversation”; “Part II: That Mommy Thing”: “Part IV: Recovering Academic”; and “Part V: Momifesto.”

You can find many of contributors in the online journal Literary Mama (especially the editors, Evans and Grant), though for the most part they represent a range of academic fields, from biology to philosophy.

For the most part, the essays in Mama PhD are concerned with capturing the deep ambivalence the authors feel in their abilities to balance parenthood and professional demands of teaching, committee work, and research. Indeed, some women, such as Jessica Smartt Guillon, depict experiences of pregnancies met with blatant hostility—even from mentors and colleagues who claim to be feminist. Others stories capture women’s hard-won academic success in the midst of raising several children, like Leah Bradshaw’s powerful essay “The Facts, The Stories.”

But make no mistake: this collection is an unequivocal critique of the infrastructure—or lack thereof—in place for women who want to explore their identities as both mothers and intellectuals. The joint essay “Nontraditional Academics” issues a call for women who leave the academy temporarily or permanently to pursue their interest in full-time motherhood to stop hiding and join forces to build a community and increase visibility. While Mama PhD is certainly aimed for women in academia—and the men, women, and children who love them—those readers interested in feminist issues in the world of work will also find this collection a compelling and provocative read.

Written by: Heather Brown, April 15th 2009

Labor Pains and Birth Stories: Essays on Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Becoming a Parent

admin — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 10:36:00 +0000

Edited by Jessica Powers

Catalyst Book Press

There is no older and greater story than childbirth. Pregnancy. Fertility. Life.

For women, who carry the impossible miracle of bringing life into the world, birth and labor reflect the diverse experiences of our lives and livelihood. Our process through medical care, partners, health, choice, and mystery are as different as the children we birth.

Labor Pains and Birth Stories is a small mirror of that richness. With twenty-nine compelling essays of pain and strength, each glimpse these writers provide validates the awesomeness and depth of the process of pregnancy. Written from mostly women authors, Powers weaves together a tapestry of debate, conflict, joy, and uncertainty all through the common practice of story-telling our lives.

One of the most compelling essays is "La Promesa de Esperanza," written by Noemi Martinez, which stands considerably unique in its own corner with its sorrowful honesty and bravery. Martinez is a single mother of two, who embraces her tangled web of religion, abuse, and isolation: "This birth of myself into who I am now was a process of layers being built and torn down, reconstructed. Pieced together now, I’m an installation, a collage."

Another distinct essay came with an emotional avalanche. The book had to be temporarily put aside as I wept into Elisabeth Aron’s words, "The Birth Story of Miles," who tenderly remembers the joy and grief of her journey with her son Miles. Her writing is simple and knowing; every detail delivers a clear stroke of her memory, and even readers unfamiliar with pregnancy and birth will connect with this exceptional piece.

The backgrounds of these parents show the diversity of their stories. The undercurrent of their stories hints at class differences and whether they could afford international adoption or uninsured fertility treatment. Their individual voices speak a multitude of languages: different cultural practices and observations, how their pregnancy was viewed by their communities, how much support and education they were given throughout their process.

Not only are the individual literary essays gifts for those seeking comfort and company in their own birthing experience; the collection as a whole can be used for critical analysis as to how the world not only accepts children, but how we treat and care for mothers as well.

Written by: Lisa Factora-Borchers, April 9th 2009

My Miserable Lonely Lesbian Pregnancy

admin — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 23:39:00 +0000

By Andrea Askowitz

Cleis Press

Andrea Askowitz doesn’t mince words, and this book’s title is just the start. In My Miserable Lonely Lesbian Pregnancy, Askowitz takes her readers on a blow-by-blow tour through her first trimester, back to her “before pregnancy” days, and then all the way through her second and third trimester, her delivery, and her postpartum period. In a blog-like style, she explains in detail her daily struggles with the decisions surrounding conception, her personal relationships, her thoughts on religious traditions, and just how much she disliked being pregnant. No detail or complaint is spared.

It isn’t often that the story gets told about the challenges encountered by single, lesbian women hoping to conceive. The many difficult decisions to be made about how to conceive are compounded by the other decisions and issues faced by women during conception and pregnancy - be they straight, gay, single or partnered. Askowitz offers an unflinching glimpse in to the tough decisions she had to make, as well as her heartache, physical pain, loneliness, and her uncertainty.

The tone of the book can be off-putting. There is little “pregnancy is beautiful” sentimentality, and readers won’t find many “I’m a tough, single woman, and I can handle this” rallying cries. The writing can also be a little disconnected at times, and the connection between one story and another not always obvious, but the story is the author’s to write, and she appears to have written it in a style that is meaningful to her. After finishing the book, which has a very strong and touching section on the postpartum period, many readers will find that they appreciate that the story wasn’t written through rose-colored glasses. Honesty is My Miserable Lonely Lesbian Pregnancy's greatest appeal.

Written by: Becky Ramsey, June 15th 2008

Chart Your Cycle and Adventures in Menstruating #1-3

admin — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 17:49:00 +0000

By Chella Quint

I’m one of those women who has never been terribly fond of her period. I spent years trying to escape my own bodily functions and wrote my undergraduate thesis on suppressing menstruation by using birth control pills. More recently, I’ve discovered that my lifelong migraines are linked to my cycle. My period and I have come to an understanding, so while I don’t make up funny nicknames for it, I use cloth pads and organic tampons whenever possible. But I have never been overly fond of my menses and to say my feelings about menstruating are conflicted is quite an understatement. So, proactively and deliberately, I asked to write about Chella Quint’s _Adventures in Menstruating _and _Chart Your Cycle _zines to challenge my own views about my cycle. In addition to learning all sorts of useful information about our cycles and depictions of menstruation in mass media, I developed a new appreciation for zines. The unending conversations these have produced with my friends and partner have been hilarious and enlightening, and I’m sort of enamored with Quint and her work.

Chart Your Cycle was Quint’s first zine, produced in 2005 as part of the 24 Hour Zine Thing. It includes a ten-year chart to track your cycle's ups and down, anatomy diagrams, and resources for female-friendly cycle information and menstrual supplies. It includes a humorous review of a belted pad, as well as an interview with Quint’s mother, the first of an ongoing series of interviews with women of all ages and backgrounds about menstrual taboos and their feelings about their cycles.

Because she apparently had so much fun with the first one, Quint followed up CYC with the Adventures in Menstruating _series, of which three issues are available so far, and frankly, it would be nearly impossible to choose just one as a favorite. The lighthearted, pro-woman take on your period is refreshing and necessary, and I literally screamed with happy laughter while reading each of these. My suggestion: request a copy of all three (or four to include _Chart Your Cycle).

Issue One is packed. Vintage feminine hygiene advertisements are deconstructed, and we receive a crash course in both tampon insertion and imperialism in advertising. Zine #2 includes an interview with Quint’s grandmother about menstruation and pregnancy, and billboards about period products are analyzed a la the vintage ads of the first zine. Quint also does a section called “Product Testing” and reviews Freshelle hygienic wipes, which is both wildly entertaining and completely on point.

My favorite section may have been "Leakage Horror Stories," where Quint and friends detail stories from their youth of leaking in public. Unlike the stereotypical Seventeen-style anecdotes about cute boys and your errant tampon string, these horror stories have an empowering message behind the embarrassment: you’re not alone, and it really isn’t your fault. Did I mention the zines’ hilarious color covers that replicate vintage pulp novels, but have since been Photoshopped to portray leaking, menstrual women?

AiM #3 is the largest to date. It begins with an assessment of feminine hygiene versus war propaganda and the disgustingly similar framework around both. Along these lines, we learn how menstrual pads were born out of the wartime surgical bandage leftovers, prompting the question: how did a bleeding wound come to be equated with our nether regions? Quint goes on to review _Menopause the Musical _(and deconstructs the critical pans while she’s at it) and sanitary disposal units, including pictures! She also discusses inadvertently synching up your cycle with female coworkers and Tampon Crafts.

If you love your period, laughing about your period, or want to hate it less, I wholeheartedly recommend this zine series in its entirety. These handy little booklets have literally changed my entire outlook on menstruation, and they’re a surefire way to spark confessionals among close friends or, if you’re lucky, a stranger on the subway.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, June 5th 2008

Baby Love: Choosing Motherhood after a Lifetime of Ambivalence

admin — Mon, 09 Jul 2007 13:05:00 +0000

By Rebecca L. Walker

Riverhead

After reading the first few pages of Baby Love in the aisle of a midtown Manhattan Barnes and Noble, I bought a brand new hardcover copy. In recent interviews Walker has said that this is the book she wishes she'd had to read when she was in her twenties. I thank her for writing it. While much of the memoir focuses on the minutiae of Walker's pregnancy—foods eaten, clothing purchased, websites trolled and unnecessary arguments had—her larger commentary on the absence of intergenerational discussions between older and younger feminists about childbirth—save the advice that we have plenty of time—is what most interested and inspired me.

Rebecca, now at thirty-seven, is the daughter of feminist icon and celebrated author Alice Walker. Their tempestuous relationship underscores much of the text, and the trials of motherhood—chosen (Rebecca's) and seemingly ambivalent (Alice's)—and illustrates the complexities of the discussion Rebecca wishes feminists were having both amongst ourselves and, indeed, out there with the rest of the world. "Fertility is finite" she warns, and she encourages young women to take heed and plan having babies just as ardently as her mother's generation urged us to plan careers and develop ourselves into whole people. Her musings on motherhood have gotten her a lot of flack in the press recently. Most infamously, the chapter about her relationship with her stepson, Solomon, has gained attention for her assertion that the love one experiences for a child one has carried to term and given birth to differs from that of a child who has become yours through adoption or marriage or family arrangement. Rebecca Walker is not comparing one love to the other, but is merely saying there are different kinds of love, and all should be valued equally, even in their difference.

Walker's second memoir concludes with the birth story of her son, Tenzin, named after His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the statement "I have no regrets." Ultimately, Walker is encouraging young feminists to be as decisive about our choices to mother or not to mother as we have been about other parts of our lives. In a time when birth in the U.S. has turned into such a profitable industry for insurance companies, hospitals and advertisers, women's reproductive choices—from abortion to the choice to give birth and mother—are as important as ever. Baby Love calls our attention to a hardly discussed topic among young feminists: breaking through the ambivalence around motherhood that is fostered through the constant conflict between second wave feminism telling us that we have plenty of time and the larger establishment pushing us to be mothers because we can, instead of because we choose to.

Written by: Aisha Domingue, July 9th 2007

At Highest Risk

admin — Sun, 11 Mar 2007 00:25:00 +0000

Directed by Rebecca Rivas

Documentary Educational Resources

Watching this film made me realize all the things I take for granted - for instance, the advanced practices we have in maternal medicine. Overall, At Highest Risk is about the conditions, process and risks Andean women endure, especially in the last months of pregnancy until the birth of the baby. A huge part of the film concentrates on certain laws and solutions that have been put into effect by the community and society in order to avoid complications or, worse, death due to giving birth. Some of these include sterilization, moving to a clinic in the last months of pregnancy and issuing fining those who give birth at home.

The audience is introduced to an expecting mother named Judyth, who expresses concerns with family, friends and others about the birthing process in her town of Ccapacmarca. Each scene furthers us to a better understanding of the health care system in place for these women. At one point in the film, the audience is witness to a birth and the different tradition and ceremonies that take place after. The high point of the film is, of course, the outcome of Judyth’s pregnancy and her choice to combine both western medicine and traditional beliefs. Will she keep the keep the traditional beliefs and does she have complications she feared having?

At Highest Risk was very interesting to watch and brought to mind not just all of the advances in maternal medicine that Western women have, but all the advances in general.

Written by: Adriana Monrreal, March 10th 2007

I Will Have an Army of Clones. We Will Be So Charming.

admin — Sun, 18 Feb 2007 18:17:00 +0000

By Tina Seamonster

Tina Seamonster’s new book, I Will Have an Army of Clones. We Will Be So Charming., a collection of blog entries from her website, is an exploration of change. It maps with sweet intensity the shifts between weight gain and loss, pregnancy and childbirth. This is not, however, an online journal that is interesting only to the immediate family and friends of the blogger. Tina takes us through her struggles with tinted, punk rock, DIY glasses, determined to be seen (both through her blog site, as well as through the parading rainbow shades of her hair) while cherishing those who are not (by adopting a local panhandling woman as a surrogate grandmother).

Many books, magazines, television shows and the like deal with the trials of weight loss from a comfortable distance, recording the after-effects of a successful weight management plan through the eyes of a person happily transformed, or strategizing from the viewpoint of a nutritionist or a personal trainer, who are blissfully unaware of the real effort behind what Seamonster terms “The Great Smallening.” Seamonster’s entries take the reader into the struggle of the everyday, through a narrative vision that is anything but typical. However thrilled she is at unearthing the bones hidden underneath her previous weight, she is equally as fearful of losing it. “I worry that I won’t be pretty if I lose too much weight,” she says. “I will always be a big girl and I love that.”

Her biggest transformation manifests itself in the creation of new life. Catapulted into the world of duplicate motherhood, she champions her double pregnancy with cheerful determination. Rallying against a sometimes ambivalent doctor and the typical money trials of the majority of new young parents, Tina catalogues her experiences with a youthful confidence. Shape shifting Tina does not only alter her physical self, but also her imaginative self – transforming from archaeologist to sea captain, panda bear to geographer with ease between blog entries. Although the reader of Seamonster’s journey book form may feel immediate pangs of loss when faced with the end of its pages, Tina Seamonster’s personas (both physical and imaginative) continue playfully online; her punk rock stroll through motherhood still evolving with each entry.

Written by: Emily Dunster, February 18th 2007