contraception

Feminist Technology

caitlin — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Edited by Kate Boyer, Linda Layne, Sharra Vostral

On the cover of this book, a silhouette of what resembles a hand holding a speculum, above the words feminist technology, prompts questions. Whose hand holds the speculum? Is it just me, or is it kind of shaped like the letter “F”? The image hints at Feminist Technology’s project: to look at technologies in the context of the hands that design and use them, and to consider how they might or might not facilitate feminist social relations.

The scope of both feminism and technology is vast, and where they meet is no small place. So, the editors focus on just a few medical technologies, with articles on the menstrual suppressing birth control pill, the breast pump, the home pregnancy test, and the tampon. In her introduction, Linda Layne writes, “…clearly technological fixes are not enough. Feminists must also work toward undoing patriarchy in all its forms. This means not only introducing new technologies, but changing technosocial systems…”

Aengst and Layne’s article on menstrual-suppressing birth control pills explores effects of the pill on ways of thinking about gender by looking at how the construction of a monthly period as biologically “natural” gets disrupted by the birth control pill’s ability to suppress menstruation and to create new cycles. The article ends by imagining how different strains of feminism would interpret the pill. The two scant paragraphs under the header “African American feminism” are a rare glimpse, in this book, of a feminist of color perspective cognizant of the reproductive injustices historically directed toward women of color. Aengst and Layne implicitly marginalize this politic by naming it so fleetingly. The article ends by proclaiming that the pill Seasonale “might very well be a useful technology for middle and upper class women who seek convenience and can afford to choose among many contraceptive technologies.” One wonders: what about everyone else?

While the language of feminism used in the book is quite universalizing, the focus remains largely on technologies in the US and Canada marketed towards cisgender women, implicitly economically privileged. While Anita Hardon’s piece does mention the disturbing ways in which the Population Council used Norplant coercively in Brazil and Bangladesh, it does so in a way that lacks an analysis of the underlying racism that constructs the bodies of people of color as unworthy of care. In reading, I hoped for more outrage from the author at how technology has been used in decidedly unfeminist ways.

In looking at the book’s final articles on the training of feminist designers in universities, I wondered about how feminist design might be imagined even outside of the increasingly inaccessible world of higher education. Considering means of production, in what conditions would people create these new objects, and how would their labor be valued? What materials would be used?

While Feminist Technology provides a trove of historical anecdotes on the development of various technologies, it could do better at revisiting the question of what makes a technology feminist by critiquing the very model of feminism it uses—and the voices it might implicitly exclude. If this topic interests you, consider also the feminist technology blog Difference Engines, whose “concerns are not only with gender, but all manner of differencing, including race, ethnicity, and humanity.”

Written by: Vani Natarajan, September 26th 2010

Sin, Sex and Stigma: A Pacific Response to HIV and AIDS

admin — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Lawrence James Hammar

Sean Kingston Publishing

If you took an undergraduate course in anthropology, chances are high that you learned about the South Pacific. Notables like Margaret Mead and Bronislau Malinowski made their marks there, and it continues to be a part of the world that many think of with intrigue and wonder. Anthropologist and ethnographer Lawrence James Hammar continues on the path of many greats in Papua New Guinea, but he takes a distinctly sharp turn in his subject matter.

According to Hammar, HIV/AIDS present a problem in Papua New Guinea in a unique way. Having studied it for years, he has an incredibly passionate and firm opinion on how the country is failing its people and why. He tackles gender roles and perceptions of appropriate sexual behavior, which suggest that protected sex has no place between couples. This is precisely the problem, as HIV transmission is mainly occurring between heterosexual couples.

The current HIV/AIDS education and prevention methods fail to acknowledge Papua New Guinea’s sexual networks. The one-size-fits-all approach does not take into account the sex trade or the gross injustices that women face when it comes to expression and control over sexuality. Likewise, the pervasive influence of the Church has essentially forbidden discussion and distribution of condoms in many areas. Church leaders have gone public with anti-condom messages with blatant lies about their effectiveness and have contributed to the overall stigma of protected sex. Hammar dramatically refers to this dilemma as “Biological death versus social leperhood.” To further describe this situation, he explains the multiple interpretations of the ABC (Abstain, Be Faithful, Condoms) message. Instead of condoms, some are teaching “C” to stand for commitment or Christian values. While this alone is not objectionable, Hammar points out that this ignores the reality of what is occurring in Papua New Guinea and contributes to the overall situation of HIV/AIDS not being dealt with in a productive manner.

Hammar sounds infuriated at times in this book, and the reader cannot help but feel the same. Though this situation is replicated in other forms the world over, Hammar pounds the Papua New Guinea-specific message home: What’s being done now isn’t working and it’s harmful. In the epilogue, he finally addresses the role of the anthropologist and takes up the difficult topic of how positive change might be effected as a result of his research and findings. He acknowledges the conflicting perspectives and the respect he has for the country and its people while also setting the stage for what hopefully will lead to constructive conversation.

Overall, Sin, Sex and Stigma reads like an academic text with very few literary flourishes added for readability. Its audience is very specific, and even within that audience, some readers may have difficulty following Hammar’s writing. Though informative, the book is heavy in content and delivery, and should only be considered by those who are already interested in the topic at hand.

Written by: Shana Mattson, July 11th 2010

In Our Control: The Complete Guide to Contraceptive Choices for Women

admin — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Laura Eldridge

Seven Stories Press

The pill is turning fifty this year, and article upon article is being written trumpeting how hormonal contraception has revolutionized women’s lives. While this is true, perhaps the bigger story is how for many women, the pill is the default contraceptive option – despite potential side effects or inconveniences.

Laura Eldridge wants to change that. Believing that women should take control of their contraceptive health by looking at the political, medical, and social implications of birth control, she set out to write a book that both challenged and informed women about something so few of us actually talk about. Her final product, In Our Control, brings a straightforward, nonjudgmental, and honest look at the pill, the patch, the ring, and, yes, even fertility awareness methods.

In Our Control isn’t content to simply discuss contraceptive options as if they exist in a vacuum. Instead, Eldridge traces the history of birth control development, painting a backdrop of the political context and gender inequalities that are inextricably intertwined with each birth control option.

Nuanced discussions of medical side effects and precautions are deftly arranged between critiques of the medical-industrial complex. Eldridge walks readers through the thought process within her critiques, which allows the reader to become a smart consumer of contraceptive options. For example, her discussion of the HPV vaccination and the pharmaceutical industry’s rush to push it to the public is critical, yet evenhanded and well researched. The chapter on menstrual suppression drugs casts a wary eye towards the way feminist themes of empowerment have been misappropriated in advertising for such products.

While the main focus of In Our Control is on a discussion of contraceptive options, I felt the book really shined in its final chapters on the HPV vaccination, birth control options for men, environmental concerns about contraception, and international issues in contraception. It was in these chapters that Eldridge combined her inquisitive and unorthodox style of writing with a critical look at contemporary issues in contraception. I found myself unable to put the book down through these chapters.

Eldridge’s fresh voice was apparent on every page of In Our Control, and evoked the pro-woman, community-oriented feel of a volume of Our Bodies, Ourselves. By placing exhaustive information about contraception into the hands of her readers, Eldridge is ensuring that women can approach their health professionals fully armed with all of their options, enabling them to have an honest conversation about which method is best for them.Gwen Emmons

Written by: Gwen Emmons, June 14th 2010