Category Archives: Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR)

Intersectionality

by in Action, Activism, Feminism, Human Rights, Justice, Policy, Poverty, Racism, Random musings, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), US Politics, women and tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Does the intersectionality of race, gender and sexuality really need further explanation?

Spend five minutes on social media and it’s clear that it does.

Perhaps it’s the anthropologist in me, or just a matter of my personality. I’ve long been interested in the interconnection between things, particularly the social constructs we humans use to inform our realities and world views. Specifically, how we decide who represents us versus who we view as them fascinates — and, at times, horrifies — me. But, those intersections and interconnections between categories, which place each us in various positions of privilege or groups to which discrimination and stigma are directed, are also used to divide us by the powers that be.

If we’re fighting one another, we cannot fight them. Hell, we might just miss what exactly they are doing to begin with.

My feminism is one which examines those intersections and attempts to empower those with the least power. It gives voice to the voiceless. Makes visible the invisible. Accepts the unacceptable.

I cannot divorce my ethnicity from my class from my gender from my sexuality. In my world, no one should need to. But, I can and try as much as possible to recognise where I fall along the intersectionality continuum. And, I attempt to work towards minimising the distance between categories along that scale for those less advantaged whilst aiming for the creation of an equitable, just and empowering society for all.

Protest Postcard #6 of 50

Pro-choice is pro-life

by in Action, Activism, Current events, Feminism, Human Rights, Policy, Random musings, Refugees, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), US Politics, women and tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Today’s postcard is perhaps one of the issues that I feel most strongly about since for me it’s connected to just about every other aspect of my life and belief system.

One of the first national-level protests I took part in was the Women’s Rights March in Washington, DC in ’91 or ’92. The reason I took part was because I felt then and still believe today that no one has a right to decide what happens in my uterus or to my body besides me. My physician is naturally involved when medically necessary. And, my husband, of course, is apart of those conversations and discussions. But, the ultimate decisions and consequences are mine and mine alone to make and to bare.

Simply put: this is my body and this is my choice.

And, yet, here we are in 2020 continuing to wage war over women’s rights to do with their bodies what they want.

Women seeking refuge in the US from violence and war in their homelands have had their uteruses literally ripped out of them, forcibly and unknowingly and without their consent. Why? Because they are poor, vulnerable and other. Because they are considered unworthy.

That’s not pro-life — that’s limiting their reproductive freedom, and its tantamount to genocide. Persecuting Muslims because of the actions of some, murdering black and LGBTQI individuals because of racist and sexist and cisgender stereotypes are also not pro-life attitudes.

I am not pro-abortion; I’m pro-choice, because it allows girls and women the ability to make choices which have lasting impacts on their lives. I support allowing women to decide when and how they reproduce as well as how they prevent unwanted and unplanned pregnancies from occurring in the first place. And to me that’s always been a pro-life perspective,since it keeps abortion safe and ultimately protects women and their children from unnecessary harm. But it also allows for the means to prevent unwanted and unplanned pregnancies, thereby diminishing the need for abortion. Isn’t that the point? Minimising the need?

Against abortion? No one is forcing you to have one. Similarly, no one should force me or any woman to have a child she does not want nor feel she can care for. No one should be forced to continue a pregnancy and carry it to term if they do not want to. Women are not (yet) handmaids. I’ll fight like hell to make sure they never become them.

If you consider yourself pro-life, then do you also support and work to protect Muslim women and babies? Immigrants whether documented or not? Refugees? Black lives? And LGBTQI lives?

If the answer to any of those questions was anything other than an unqualified ‘yes’, then you are not pro-life. You are pro-foetus. But, what of that foetus once it is out of the womb? Do you still fight to protect it? Is that life still sacred?

It makes me incredibly angry that we still need to fight for this specific freedom. But I’ll continue fighting, not just for women in the US. But, for women everywhere.

Abortion should be legal. It must remain safe. And, it should be rare. But, that requires freedom for women to make decisions regarding their own reproductive lives.

The real #MarchforLife — Protest Postcard #5 of 50

Health care is a human right

by in Action, Activism, Current events, Finland, Health, Healthcare, Human Rights, Policy, Random musings, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), US Politics and tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Today’s image from the 50 protest postcards resonates with me for various reasons: some personal, others professional. And, all based on evidence.

I’ve long worked in public health. But, I’ve been an advocate and activist for universal healthcare for all for even longer.

One of the first issues which informed and guided my own political compass was health care. It astounded me then (late ’80s and early ’90s) that the United States was the only developed, high-income country in the world to not have a national healthcare system. It astounds me even more that we continue to occupy that bit of exceptionalism and that the discussions still rage on today in 2020.

I’ve also benefited from living in a country with a well-functioning, high-quality national healthcare system. It’s inconceivable to the average Finn that a resident or citizen wouldn’t be cared for from cradle to grave or that millions face financial ruin or death because they can’t afford the care they need. Or that individuals would need to subsidise and fundraise to afford care when faced with an emergency or life-threatening illness. This reality has become more stark to many in the face of Covid 19.

In the richest country on the planet, in 2020, we spend more on health care per capita than any other country by far, and yet perform worse far poorer countries on just about every single health metric. In fact, the only metric we outperform other countries on is spending.

What good is fantastic care if no one or very few can access it?

I support Medicare 4 All. That said, I’d be happy with a hybrid system, one which features both public and private options because I understand complete change may take time, and be somewhat scary for my fellow Americans.

To me, it makes sense and represents a more humane approach to offer everyone basic, universal healthcare coverage from birth through the end of life. And, if individuals wish to, they may also purchase private insurance and coverage. Choosing between a meal and insulin, a roof or cancer treatment, a tooth extraction or an electric bill should not be a viable or acceptable system. Not for the proclaimed richest nation.

No one should be granted care only because they are privileged enough to afford it. No one should be barred care because they are too poor.

People — all people — will be healthier if they are all able to access the care they need when they need it. And that’s good for all of us.

Postcard #3 of 50.

It’s up to us now

by in Action, Activism, Current events, Feminism, Human Rights, Immigration, In memoriam, Justice, Random musings, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), social justice, US Politics, women and tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

I was already struggling with election anxiety and news cycles of unending madness and chaos.

From the upheaval at USPS at at time when mail-in voting is potentially life-preserving, to AG Barr’s desire to charge protesters and dissenters with sedition, to forced sterilisation of immigrant women in detention centres, to the non-stop lies and fabrications, to raging fires in both North America and Brazil, on top of a global pandemic as we head into winter, it’s too much, y’all. It’s simply too much.

And, then, Saturday dawns and the news of RBG‘s death greeted me as I scrolled through Twitter (fuck you, Mitch McConnell) whilst waiting for my coffee to brew.

This morning feels incredibly dangerous, not just for women’s rights and reproductive freedom, but for democracy in general. The fragility of the rule of law, immigrant rights, voting rights, environmental and labour justice and the simple idea that laws should not hinge upon the mad ramblings of an individual who would like to be king and a party that allows him to do so all feel just that much closer to disintegration. And the nightmare that is 2020 continues.

Yet, this isn’t some distant land; it’s happening in the United States. It’s just unreal and yet far, far too real.

At some point over the past year or so, I received a packet of 50 protest postcards to benefit the ACLU in a book hookup subscription from Strand Bookstore in NYC. Since my copy of Notorious RBG is currently with a friend, I flipped through those protest postcards looking for hope I suppose or something to give me solace as the tears flowed. I kept returning to this image:

For the next 50 days, I’ll be posting one of these images, primarily to remind myself what I’m fighting for. But, also, to remind us all that we must continue to fight for as long as we can, in whatever way we can and for as long as it takes to create a more perfect union for us all.

RBG provided us with a to-do list. That list is rather simple:

– Work for what you believe in
– But pick your battles
– Don’t burn your bridges
– Don’t be afraid to take charge
– Think about what you want, then do the work
– But, then, enjoy what makes you happy
– Bring along your crew
– Have a sense of humour

from Notorious RBG

So, today, I’ll honour the gigantically iconic yet tiny in stature, courageous righteous, brilliant woman who dedicated her life to making ours better. Then, tomorrow, I’ll dry my eyes, suit up and fight like I’ve never fought before, for myself and everyone else who suffers injustice in whatever form it takes. And, for the country that I love even in these incredibly dark times.

I’m doing this for RBG. She fought for all of us her entire life. Now, it’s up to us to fight for the legacy she forged for us and our children.

On ‘The Uncounted’ by Sara ‘Meg’ Davis

by in Action, books, Communicating science, Current events, Drugs Policy, Good reads & books, Health, Healthcare, HIV, Human Rights, Justice, Policy, Poverty, Random musings, reading, Science, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), social justice, War on Drugs, Writing and tagged , , , | Leave a comment

The Uncounted by Sara L.M. Davis

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


In today’s world in particular, there are days when it seems as though we are drowning in information. Too much data. Too much ‘stuff’ to process and make sense of. That feeling is only partially true, however. Across various areas and arenas, we know far too little, particularly when we focus on issues surrounding health and human rights. All too often we take the absence of information or data or evidence as a sign that we may relax a bit.

We desperately need to shift that thinking. The Uncounted, by Sara ‘Meg’ Davis provides a road map for how we may begin to shift our thinking and perspectives in order to adjust how, amongst whom and what we collect data in a relatively simple way, and in a way which may pay huge dividends, particularly amongst those most in need and previously most neglected in policy planning and financing.

‘The Uncounted’ is a fantastic read, one which profoundly challenges the notion that in the absence of information or evidence we don’t need to worry about issue X. That is, if we carefully examine those variables for which we have no data or evidence, perhaps upon digging deeper and enlisting assistance from those more acutely and intimately aware than we are, we will find previously hidden information and data. And, that data and information are likely to radically shift how we design programmes or policies on various issues. We will no longer be able to simply dismiss an issue as unproblematic. Quite simply, ‘The Uncounted’ provides a profound argument for carefully considering how we examine and apply the absence of evidence as an indicator.

‘The Uncounted’ is rich in ethnographic descriptions, documenting the various assumptions made by multilateral agencies charged with dispersing funding to and establishing guidelines for countries in how they respond to HIV, tuberculosis and malaria (e.g., The Global Fund to Fight AIDS, TB and Malaria, UNAIDS, WHO, PEPFAR, etc) and local-level agencies and individuals best situated to argue for expanding programmes and funding schemes within communities. For those unfamiliar with such agencies, Dr Davis disentangles these various personalities and agencies rather neatly, making it clear who does what and whose voice is perhaps most necessary in deciding upon programmes and policies to address HIV in particular. Following the progress and steps necessary to count the uncounted within the Caribbean region provides evidence for how we can begin to shift our thinking and truly ensure full inclusion of all individuals affected by HIV and specifically those least likely to date to receive crucial services and support.

Reading ‘The Uncounted’ during a global pandemic proved rather surreal,not simply because some of its key characters are also playing a crucial role in current events vis-a-vis Covid-19. As our global health-related realities have been thrown into chaos this year with the emergence of Covid-19, I’m curious to see how various elements of Dr Davis’ careful and thorough work play out. Whilst focused primarily on HIV, and the very real oversights in counting typically hidden populations such as men who have sex with men, transgender people, sex workers and people who use drugs, certainly many individuals, and perhaps the most vulnerable, will go uncounted in the wake of Covid-19. Will health, social, and economic policy makers and planners at local, national, and international levels solicit the perspectives from those at the community levels most intimately associated with the epidemics and acutely aware of problems in providing treatment, care and support to those affected in order to understand who, what, why and where? Or will they rely on the absence of evidence as evidence of absence simply because individuals are not counted by the powers that be? How will key populations be accounted for? Will they?

My hope is that the powers that be across power structures would heed the advice and road maps provided by Dr Davis. The reality is that in some places, that advice and those road maps are not being considered. And, in those places it seems as those Covid-19 is raging unchallenged. [Insert heavy sigh here.]

‘The Uncounted’ provides this cynic with a bit of hope, however, particularly with regards to HIV. Hope that we expand our perspective ever so slightly, yet in a way which we can make a huge difference to communities and key populations who may have previously faced stigma, discrimination and institutional neglect, and who may finally receive the crucial support to transform structures that place them at the response to HIV. It won’t be easy, but it is necessary. And, to my mind, long overdue.

Clearly, we can no longer that that ‘absence of evidence as evidence of absence’.



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On ‘Never Rarely Sometimes Always’

by in Feminism, Film, Justice, Random musings, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), women and tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

We do not watch much TV. We opted not to connect a digibox to our fancy TV because we haven’t watched an actual TV programmes in real-time since we moved to Finland.

We are also a household divided. I will watch just about anything (except reality TV and extreme horror films). The Cuban is a film snob.

My husband’s taste in films is incredible really. I tease him about it, because his standards are exacting, and typically correct. And, I do not mind at all since he finds some true gems whilst scouring various databases and critic reviews. Thus, we tend to watch films which are relatively unknown to the box office, many foreign films and so many documentaries on topics ranging from the secret lives of cats to how foods are made and what’s actually in spam. And, naturally, politics. (I didn’t say my taste takes a complete back seat!) Typically, The Cuban selects what we watch each evening after dinner, and will throw in a silly movie just for now and again so we can mock it together. (I know: we’re awful. But, it works for us.)

Yesterday, there was no hesitation in what he cued up, something he had just discovered and read about very recently. We watched ‘Never Rarely Sometimes Always‘. And, I must say, it was truly brilliant. To me, it was perhaps a much more honest portrayal of the lengths a high school girl from a low- or middle-income family living in a parental consent state in US will consider should she find herself pregnant with very little perceived or real support from her family.

The acting is incredible, the characters and script are genuine and relatable, the direction and cinematography are both stellar and beautiful. More than anything, this film does not spoon-feed you every single detail nor dwell upon the political or social implications in the backdrop. It’s a portrait of a journey told from one perspective: a young 17-year-old girl who is pregnant and doesn’t want to be.

I have so many questions about the girls in this film and their circumstances, and can imagine so many routes via which they landed in these specific moments. Truly, I wondered what would happen to them next once the credits begin rolling.

A very tiny tagline on the movie’s website reads simply,

Her Journey
Her Choice

Indeed.

In this specific journey, the main character — Autumn — is accompanied by her cousin. I’m glad she had that companion along with her throughout. She did not judge, she did not chide and she did not question Autumn’s choice. She simply sat with her and stood by her on that journey, and occasionally held her hand to get her through the most difficult moments. From beginning to end.

This is stripped-down storytelling. And, it is beautiful.

Trailer

Just stop

by in Activism, Attitude, Current events, Feminism, Healthcare, Justice, Random musings, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), social justice, US Politics, women and tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

I am so terribly weary from being a woman at the moment.

Last summer, a friend visiting Helsinki brought along pictures from the Women’s Rights March in DC from 1992, I believe. One of the signs from that day that my friends and I carried read, ‘US out of my uterus’. And, here we are

It’s not just the laws, governing and policing of lady bits going on. Or the pain and uncertainty that women living in those specific parts of the US or world will or currently feel given the limited options available to them. Or even the desperate measures they’re likely to resort to given their realities.

It’s primarily the vitriol and misogynistic context and tone to comment after comment after comment from men directed at women. To me, to women I know and to women I’ll likely never meet. It’s been seemingly constant since the fiasco and farce that was the confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh.

And, frankly, I’m just tired of it all. Increasingly, I find that I genuinely do not like many, many, many men. [Thankfully, I married a feminist who gets this and shares my outrage, and call many other woke men friends. I do not dislike, y’all, if that wasn’t obvious already.]

Most of this rant will seem likely to the men feeling secure in their positions and who truly welcome equality with their uterus-possessing friends. We thank, y’all. Seriously. So, help us get this message out, eh?

If you claim to be an ally or want to know how to be one, here’s an idea: Just stop, listen / read our words, try to understand our despair and anger, and ask instead how you can help support the women in your life rather than tell them what they should feel or how they should act. [Mansplaining 101 from a woman’s perspective.]

And, if you feel it’s necessary to make snarky comments to someone you don’t know because of the safety of your keyboard, really? [Mansplaining 101 from a man’s perspective, because this is 2019 and women are still not taken seriously. And, hence, this post and my rage.]

Unless you have lived your entire life since puberty dealing with period shame,

Unless you have held your breath waiting for your period to come because various methods fail on occasion,

Unless you have watched as your idea was shot down or dismissed by someone in authority only to hear a man in the room say literally the same exact thing and be congratulated for their brilliance, 

Unless you have been told stop being ‘so emotional‘ or ‘overly hormonal’ when you disagree with a man, 

Unless you’ve been told on numerous occasions that you’re being a bitch so it must just be ‘that time of the month‘ [NB: this link is a fucking gem of an example of everything which induces rage in me at the moment in that sort of cumulative sort of way from a lifetime of it],

Unless you have had to wrestle and wiggle your way out of the clutches of *that* dude,

Unless you’ve been genuinely terrified that you won’t be able to wrestle and wiggle away *this* time,

Unless you’ve had to justify what you were wearing, or how flirty you were or weren’t or that no really does means no,

Just stop.

Stop telling me what I should say, what I should do, what I should feel or any other thing I do with my body or my mind. This is my body. This is my mind. And, these are my emotions.

And, I own them. All.

dont-tread-on-me825793

Image credit: Anne Lesniak.

Further reading:

Three books that I think every single person on the planet should read right now:

On ‘Not That Bad’, edited by Roxane Gay

by in books, Feminism, Human Rights, Justice, men, Policy, Racism, Random musings, reading, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), social justice, women and tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape CultureNot That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture by Roxane Gay

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This should be required reading for every single man and boy, particularly for those who continue to objectify women and girls, who think we’re just ‘asking for it’ because of how we look or dress, or that catcalling and leers and unwelcome attention are simply their way of telling us we look good.

This should be required reading for all those who question women and girls who step forward and name their harassers and attackers. Who scream foul when we who have survived remember some details so, so vividly and others escape us. We lived through our nightmares, and we continue to do so years later.

And, this should be read aloud every single minute of every single day out loud to Brett Kavanaugh. Just play it in his inner ear and mind on endless repeat until he and those who enabled him get it. In fact, the same treatment should apply to all those who supported and voted for his nomination and confirmation to sit on the Supreme Court. Because watching Dr Blasey-Ford reminded all of us who do not need reminding that it was just that bad.

Here’s to the survivors.

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On World AIDS Day 2018

by in Action, Activism, HIV, Human Rights, In memoriam, Justice, Policy, Random musings, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), social justice and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment
Red AIDS ribbons concept tree. Vector illustration layered for easy manipulation and custom colouring.

This World AIDS Day, as with many in the past, I am hopeful. More cautiously optimistic than equally hopeful, however. Thirty years ago, the first World AIDS Day passed, allowing us to collectively raise our voices to raise awareness of HIV. Globally and locally.

This morning, as I scrolled through my news feed, in addition to the traditional AIDS red ribbon tree of life I’ve posted for years on this day, another image gut-punched me, just as it did the first time I saw it and every time since.

The men in white represent the surviving members of the original San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus. Eric Luse, 1993. 

This image of the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus reminds me why this day isn’t so much a simple celebration of how far we’ve come, but of how vigilant we must remain in our resolve to continue to respond to this most pernicious virus. But, more so, we must resist and overcome the various prejudices and judgements attached to HIV. Far, far too many have died senseless, needless and agonising deaths only because we refused to act to prevent further infections, because we isolated and demonised those living with HIV, and because we refused access to live-saving and life-preserving treatment for those who desperately needed it. 

Why? 

Fight AIDS, not people affected or living with HIV. Fight the damn virus and the cultural, social, political and economic institutions which continue to allow it to spread and allow people to die when, today, they don’t need to. Fight the injustices borne through stigma and fear that allow the virus to flourish.

Do not fight the individuals most affected and least wanted by society.

HIV doesn’t care where you live, what you look like, what you do for a living to simply survive. Nor does it care who or how you love.

Today, and every day, we must collectively remember what inaction and isolation do to those affected when society shuns them and deems them unworthy and undesirable. Every. Single. Day.

So, on this World AIDS Day, here’s to all those affected and living with HIV, and here’s to all those who continue working damn hard and often thanklessly to ensure no one is left behind and that we can all live in a world more just and more equitable. For all. 

And, here’s to those we failed. Your memory lives on and you will not be forgotten. 

On ‘Notorious RBG’

by in Activism, books, Current events, Human Rights, Inspiration, Justice, Racism, Random musings, Sexual & Reproductive Health & Rights (SRHR), social justice, US Politics, women, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader GinsburgNotorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg by Irin Carmon

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Ruth Bader Ginsburg has always reminded me a bit of my grandmother. Quiet. Proper. Often wearing a stern look or serious expression accentuated by flawless hair and pearls. And, retorts at the ready which leave all present to hear them slack-jawed and cowering at their own ignorance. In my family, we often repeated a mantra, ‘Don’t cross Grandma’. I would imagine some variant exists for RBG amongst those nearest and dearest.

Notorious RBG is a must-read for any self-respecting feminist or equal rights activist (Is there really a difference between the two?) needing a beacon of hope and a dose of ‘get up and go’. And, RBG the woman is that beacon during very dark times. This woman. Unlike her, rather than seeing nine women justices on the highest bench in the land, I’d like to see nine RBGs at SCOTUS.

Oh, to dare to dream.

Detailing her life as a young newlywed law student, then graduate of Columbia Law (top in her class) unable to land a job, then law professor (needing to hide her second pregnancy)…, she understands not just in theoretical terms but from lived experience what perceived differences mean and how they affect us as individuals and groups. To her, it isn’t simply about disregarding those perceived differences and the ideal roles of men and women; it’s about those institutionalised categories and erasing the various barriers and injustices they unfairly impose upon us. Her weapon of choice, however, is the law and the US Constitution. And, this woman plays the long game.

As I was finishing this brilliant, inspiring book this morning, I wept. Not because of anything particularly troubling that appeared upon the page at that precise moment. But, because so many of us are simply too tired to continue fighting for and working towards what we believe is right and just. If this tiny woman could become one of the most inspiring memes of our times, we—who have benefited from her tireless efforts in classrooms, courtrooms and on the bench—can certainly work just a little bit harder to solidify and make permanent those giant gains she made for us.

RBG inspires for many reasons. And, we do her and all others who have blazed various trails a disservice by simply giving in to despair because it is too damn hard.

One of the appendices features a list of ‘How to be like RBG’. It reads:

  • Work for what you believe in
  • But pick your battles
  • Don’t burn your bridges
  • Don’t be afraid to take charge
  • Think about what you want, then do the work
  • But then enjoy what makes you happy
  • Bring along your crew
  • Have a sense of humour

I’ve got my to-do list sorted then.

RBG. However long she graces the Supreme Court and this world, it won’t be nearly long enough to satisfy me. I’ll still want more. But, her legacy. Long may it guide and inspire us all. And, may we all have red hot pens at the ready to sharpen and hone our words. Because words and how we wield them truly matter.

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