I’m not a fan of stereotypical femininity, so when my sister decided to organise a trip to see the stage version of Dirty Dancing for her hen night – with compulsory “prom dress” costumes – it sounded like my idea of pink, fluffy hell.
But I was pleasantly surprised to discover that when you get past the neon pink advertising and the frilly dresses, there are some surprisingly serious and complex themes woven into the plot. By the time we reached the interval I had been converted, but since it can be difficult to find anyone to discuss intersectional feminism with you on a hen night pub crawl, I’ve had to save my observations for the internet.
In case it’s been a while since you’ve seen the 1987 film, here’s a quick recap of the plot: in the summer between high school and college, Baby spends a few weeks with her well-off family at a holiday resort in the Catskills, where she meets Penny, a working class dance instructor who has recently become pregnant and then been dumped.
Penny desperately wants to have an abortion, but it’s illegal and therefore expensive and risky. On top of that, she can’t afford to take time off from her second job, performing at a neighbouring resort with her dance partner and platonic best friend Johnny.
Baby steps in to help her, first talking her father into lending her the money to pay for the abortion, then learning the dance routine so that she can take Penny’s place on stage. In the process of learning to dance, she has to spend lots of time with sexy dance instructor Johnny, in situations which conveniently provide excuses for him to be wet and/or shirtless, and they end up having a hot summer fling.
Although it’s easily overlooked in favour of her romantic relationship with Johnny, it’s Baby’s friendship with Penny which sets up the film’s feminist credentials: the main catalyst for the plot is one woman helping another woman to obtain an abortion. Unlike more recent American films about unplanned pregnancy, such as Juno or Knocked Up, Dirty Dancing approaches abortion from an openly pro-choice perspective. At no point does Penny face any moral judgement for her decision, but there’s plenty of criticism for the man who abandoned her, and the abortionist who charges her hundreds of dollars for a procedure that leaves her seriously ill.
But even before she makes her grand gesture of sisterly solidarity to Penny, Baby is presented as a feminist character. When she is first introduced, we learn that she is about to go to college (it’s later explained that she plans to study economics at a prestigious women’s college) and wants to join the Peace Corps after graduating. This stands in stark contrast to her sister Lisa, whose main ambition appears to be finding a husband. Lisa and the other female guests at the resort demonstrate the kind of comfortable yet uninspiring lifestyle that Baby has decided to reject in favour of having adventures and trying to save the world.
Baby’s determination to make a difference could have been presented as a straightforwardly positive trait, but her ability to help Penny is closely tied to her family’s wealth, and the writers use Johnny’s reaction to comment on her privilege. Johnny initially resents her involvement, and makes the scathing comment “it takes a real saint to ask Daddy” when Baby hands over the money for the abortion.
As they grow closer and Johnny begins to talk about his life and his precarious employment situation, Baby looks naïve and sheltered in comparison, but by the end of the film she has started to understand her own privilege and question her father’s assumptions about Johnny.
Baby’s class privilege affects the dynamic of her relationship with Johnny, giving her power and agency that goes against traditional gender roles. As a guest at the resort, Johnny relies on Baby’s cooperation for his continued employment, and he feels further indebted to her because she is paying for Penny’s abortion.
Baby’s background means that she’s used to getting her way, so she isn’t shy about talking back to Johnny during their early dance lessons, and she remains assertive when they grow closer, eventually being the one to initiate the sexual aspect of their relationship.
Women’s sexuality is a major theme in the film, and it’s actually kind of refreshing to see a film address women’s interest in sex without trying to dress it up in a desire for True Love. There are frequent nods to the female gaze, whether it’s through the blatant fanservice of Patrick Swayze’s shirtless scenes (set to music like Hungry Eyes), or the resort owner, reminding the nice, respectable college boys he has recruited as waiters that part of their job is to provide holiday romances for the younger female guests.
There are also comments about the “Bungalow Bunnies”, middle-aged women who stay at the resort all summer and are only joined by their husbands at the weekends, who use Johnny for sex in a reversal of the older-man-exploits-young-woman trope.
As a coming-of-age movie, the script also touches on the idea of sexual awakening, contrasting Baby’s experience with her sister Lisa’s. In one very brief scene (which starts at 0:50 of this clip), the two women discuss when they should lose their virginity, and Baby tells Lisa that it should be with “someone you sort-of love”; not necessarily the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, but someone you like and are attracted to.
Lisa sees sex as part of a long-term plan to persuade Robbie – who the viewer already knows is the sleazebag that dumped Penny when he got her pregnant – to marry her, while Baby, who isn’t deliberately looking for a husband, ends up with the better man and the more rewarding relationship. This might not be much of a revelation to many real women, but it’s unusual to see a chick-flick where the romantic happy ending doesn’t involve marriage and babies.
Dirty Dancing isn’t without its flaws: the Bungalow Bunnies fit what we would now call a cougar stereotype, and Johnny’s final speech about how Baby has taught him to be a better person might be kind of dodgy from a class perspective, but it’s a little unrealistic to expect a low-budget romance film from the 80s to be totally right-on.
It stands out, not because it’s perfect, but because the writers address class and gender issues at all, and as a result has been sneaking a little bit of Trojan horse feminism into teenage sleepovers and girls’ nights in for the last 25 years. It’s the feminist sleeper agent of chick flicks, and deserves a bit of recognition for that.
- Alyson Macdonald is an admin worker by day and a writer the rest of the time, blogging mostly at Bright Green and tweeting from @textuallimits. She wouldn’t normally be caught dead watching chick flicks, and hopes that her reputation as a scruffy geek survives this encounter unscathed.
As a right-thinking feminist, or an engaged human being, or a person who occasionally glances at the news, you may recently have heard about Nadine Dorries’ proposed amendment to the Health and Social Care Bill. It would have provided something deemed ‘independent counselling’ for women seeking an abortion. It may well have made you feel irritable for a while.
It was an amendment so controversial it succeeded in distracting rather a lot of attention from the substantive bill, which could probably have borne a little scrutiny itself. The public reaction in the UK to the Dorries amendment was loud and it was largely scathing. A woman shouldn’t have to argue or debate with independent counsellors before availing herself of her legal rights, and any move towards such a position must be opposed.
The amendment was soundly defeated, and we all continued to live in a country where women are permitted to have reproductive rights without begging for them. Hurrah.
But imagine a world where Dorries’ amendment was passed, and then, if you’re brave, imagine a world where reproductive rights were rolled back entirely. It’s like a John Lennon song, but completely different. Now imagine living in a theocracy, or the remnants of one. Imagine finding out you were pregnant and knowing you didn’t want a child and having to accept that legally, the only thing you could do is leave your country and find one that could provide a safe and legal abortion, carried out by people who have had medical training. What sort of dystopia is this, you ask?
This is Ireland, of course, a one hour flight away. It’s where I grew up.
Abortion is illegal in Ireland. If you want one, you will need to obtain one in Britain. Simple as that.
It is a law, like so many, that discriminates on the basis of personal wealth and privilege. If you have options, education, confidence, access to a computer and a credit card, you can book an appointment for a private abortion in the UK and then you can book a flight. But if you don’t have these things you will struggle. Let’s be clear about this – you will require money. A return flight is the better part of one hundred pounds. An early abortion will cost about four hundred pounds. A later term abortion, all the more likely if you have struggled to access services or figure out how to book or fund an appointment without assistance or support of any kind, will cost significantly more.
My pet charity is the Abortion Support Network, which I discovered eighteen months ago during the inconvenient eruption of Eyjafjallajökull and the subsequent Great Ash Cloud of 2010. The resulting disruption of flights was a nuisance to many, but to those who had booked a private abortion in the UK, it was potentially disastrous. Forced to rebook their appointment and their flights, and in some cases forced to now book a later term – and therefore more expensive – abortion, many found themselves in desperate need of financial assistance. The Abortion Support Network supplies a non-judgemental ear, but more importantly, practical help: a place to stay in a foreign country, assistance with booking flights and appointments, and, crucially, money. It is hard, in a country with legal abortion and a national health service, free at point of delivery, to comprehend how important this can be.
I have always thought that maybe someday I will get to raise a quiet glass to Irish independence, should they choose to stop relying on Britain to supply basic medical services to Irish women. In the meantime I’ll toast the ASN. If you believe in reproductive choice and that a woman shouldn’t be
forced to pick between carrying an unwanted pregnancy and a backstreet abortion, please consider supporting them.
- http://www.abortionsupport.org.uk/
- On Facebook
- On Twitter
- Sinead M ran away from Ireland shortly before it was eaten by a tiger, and lives in London where she continues to rant about her old country to anyone who will pretend to listen. She sporadically rants in writing at http://findesomething.wordpress.com.
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Abortion was legalized in the UK in 1967
Some of Team BadRep were at the pro-choice rally in Westminster on Saturday with 300+ other people including Kate Smurthwaite, Laurie Penny, Diane Abbott MP, Evan Davis MP and Jenny Jones of the Green Party to protest the attempts being made to restrict access to free, safe, legal abortion. Here’s the Guardian writeup and a great slideshow of pictures.
Why were we out in force raising our voice for choice? Here’s a quick rundown in case you’ve missed any of the grim news in recent months… What frightens me most at the moment is that ‘Right to Know’ campaign architects Nadine Dorries MP and Frank Fields MP (guess which party! Go on. Guess) have added amendments to the Health and Social Care Bill to change the law on pregnancy counselling. Their big idea is that abortion providers who offer counselling such as Marie Stopes and British Pregnancy Advisory Service have a ‘vested interest’ in persuading women to have a termination. Because abortion is such a money spinner… It’s a wonder we don’t see more people on Dragon’s Den offering an investment opportunity in a chain of pop-up abortion clinics. Anyway, here’s a post by Education for Choice explaining why this is bollocks, and Abortion Rights give the campaign a dressing down here.
Anti-choicers LIFE were invited to sit on the government’s Sexual Health Forum at the same time that BPAS got kicked off. A new Sex and Relationships Education Council of abstinence and anti-choice organisations drew praise from Secretary of State for Education / evil ventriloquist’s puppet Michael Gove. Nadine Dorries popped up again with a bill proposing abstinence education for girls which passed the first stage vote in parliament. Does abstinence education work? Short answer: no. Long answer: no. Then of course there’s the shocking situation facing women in Ireland (find out more from Abortion Support Network)
It was great to see so many angry people out on Saturday, and hear the inspiring speeches. Lisa Hallgarten of Education for Choice read out a chilling message from pro-choice activists in the US warning us not to be complacent because things are getting really bad across the Atlantic (see this and this, for example) and it all started in the same way it has here: with little laws which chip away at the right to choose.
I was particularly happy that the demo drew support from Queer Resistance, who made the vital point that we must work together cross-cause to protect bodily autonomy, reproductive rights and sexual freedom. This demo felt closer in spirit to the reproductive justice movement I believe we need to build to fight proposals which are spun as pro-woman but are in fact bad news for anyone who doesn’t subscribe to a vicious and controlling version of “family values”.
This demonstration is just the beginning of a grassroots push back against Dorries, Field, Gove and their supporters, and we’re going to need your help. Start by emailing your MP about the abortion amendments and keeping track of developments on Education For Choice’s blog.
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Helen Taussig, taken during her time as a professor at Johns Hopkins University.
Taussig (b. 1898) had other ideas. Having studied at a series of prestigious schools, including Harvard, Taussig graduated from Johns Hopkins University Medical School in 1927, moving to Johns Hopkins Hospital to spend several years specialising in cardiology and paediatrics. In 1930 she was appointed head of the Children’s Heart Clinic, making her one of the highest ranking women in American medicine at the time. She noted that infants with another particular heart deformity (patent ductus arteriosus, which allows blood to flow between the aorta and the pulmonary artery) who suffered from Tetralogy of Fallot tended to have better survivability than those with Tetralogy of Fallot alone.
Based on this, Taussig came to a conclusion that had evaded everyone else up until then: by creating an artificial hole, or shunt, between the two arteries it might be possible to overcome most of the problems caused by Tetralogy of Fallot. She took her ideas to Robert Gross, a surgeon at Boston who had pioneered patent ductus arteriosus ligation (the tying off of the hole between the arteries to stop the flow between them). Gross dismissed the idea, acting on the accepted wisdom of the time that stated the condition to be impossible to fix surgically. Without the help of an experienced cardiac surgeon, there would be no way to actually test Taussig’s ideas.
In addition to the resistance from established surgeons, Taussig faced another obstacle to developing her idea: Around the time of graduating from Johns Hopkins she had become profoundly deaf, something which seemed, at the time, like it might put an end to her career. How could one practise cardiology without being able to hear heart rhythms through a stethoscope? Taussig was not one to be stopped by such trifling matters though, and developed an exceptional proficiency for feeling the rhythms by hand instead of listening to them, later crediting some of her discoveries to this talent.
You must learn to listen with your fingers.
– Dr Helen Taussig
This might be the point where a less awesome individual might give up, might let their idea drop and become just another footnote in medical history. Instead, Taussig approached Alfred Blalock, a recent appointment at Johns Hopkins Hospital. Together with his surgical technician, Vivien Thomas, they began to develop the idea, and by 1944 were ready to perform their first operation on a person.
The first operation was a qualified success – the initial surgery went well, but the patient didn’t survive a follow up surgery the following year. The following two attempts were wholly successful, and by 1952 over 1,000 patients had undergone the Blalock-Taussig Shunt procedure, as it became known, with around 85% survival rates. Taussig and Blalock lectured on their technique in Paris and London, where surgeons experienced similar success rates.
But pioneering a new field of medicine and improving the life expectancy and quality of life for countless infants wasn’t enough for Taussig – she had more awesome achievements still to go. In 1957 the sedative drug Thalidomide was distributed to thousands of clinicians in the US for testing, proposed as a safe drug for a variety of conditions. We now know, of course, that the drug was far from safe for this, having massively teratogenic properties. Taussig was one of the doctors, along with the FDA inspector Frances Oldham Kelsey, who provided evidence for the dangers of the drug. This lead to its being refused approval for sale in the US, and eventually removed from other markets once its dangers had been exposed.
So that’s twice that Taussig was a key figure in improving the quality of life of infants, thus arguably making the world a better place through her actions. In addition to this she campaigned for the legalisation of abortion and became one of the first women to be appointed to a full professorship at Johns Hopkins University in 1959, and the first to serve as president of the American Heart Association. One of the four colleges of the Johns Hopkins medical school still bears her name.
Her 1947 textbook, Congenital Malformations of the Heart, is worth reading whether or not one has a medical background, as it stands as an example of a very well written work by one of the field’s most incisive minds.
[Taussig] was truly a remarkably notable woman in health care.
– Harold Ellis, Journal of Perioperative Practice
- Unsung Heroes: spotlighting fascinating people we never learned about at school. Rob Mulligan also blogs at Stuttering Demagogue. Stay tuned for future Heroes, or send your own in to [email protected]!
I asked some leading UK pro-choice campaigners whether the US reproductive justice approach introduced in Part 1 is relevant to their work, and what – if anything – might be gained from creating a similar movement in Britain.
Shaming black women
Black British women are, according to Department of Health statistics, more likely to have an abortion than their white counterparts (source). On the other side of the Atlantic there has been some especially poisonous anti-choice campaigning based around a similar difference. Georgia Right to Life posted 80 billboards around the city of Atlanta proclaiming “Black people are an endangered species”, with a website address: toomanyaborted.com. Loretta Ross, National Co-ordinator of SisterSong, described it as:
a misogynistic attack to shame-and-blame black women who choose abortion, alleging that we endanger the future of our children… Our opponents used a social responsibility frame to claim that black women have a racial obligation to have more babies – especially black male babies — despite our individual circumstances.
Alarmingly, the UK anti-choice movement has already begun to adopt some of the US campaigning messages about the ‘black genocide’. Lisa Hallgarten, Director of Education for Choice, reported that “the Marie Stopes International clinic in Brixton is routinely picketed by antis who claim that MSI is trying to kill black babies. I have seen leaflets that claim that Brook is a eugenic organisation.” This is just the latest trend in a pattern of UK anti-choicers adopting US campaigning tactics.
Reproductive rights
I wanted to know whether the broader ‘reproductive rights’ approach had been adopted in the UK at all, by which I mean looking at contraception, sex education, adoption and the socioeconomic factors which impact on women’s decisions about whether or not to have children alongside calling for the right to safe, legal abortion.
Darinka Aleksic, Abortion Rights Campaign Co-ordinator, said that “because British women do not experience the extremes of health inequalities on ethnic or economic grounds that women in the US do (although I’m not minimizing those that exist), the repro rights approach has not, in my opinion, been quite so vital or so relevant to our situation.”
Lisa agreed that a rights-based approach hasn’t been widely adopted: “Since UK policy can be made or broken by the Daily Mail it is hard to take an abstract political or human rights approach to these things”. But she was clear on some of the problems with the existing situation, including the emphasis on abortion as a medical issue:
The public health approach is fundamentally limited and limiting because it relies on scientific evidence supporting the role of abortion in public health. For me there is a point where personal autonomy may trump public health and we should always keep our commitment to autonomy at the forefront of discussion.
And the absence of universal high quality sex education:
Lack of sex education is a clear obstacle not just to the people who are young at that point in time, but to society getting better at talking about sex. I think, realistically, that some fundamental work needs to be done on coming to terms with human sexuality as a society before anyone will have the courage or funding to stand up in government and take a reproductive justice approach to these things.
Abortion rights and social justice
Finally I asked Lisa and Darinka if it would be helpful to put the campaign to protect and extend abortion rights in the UK in a wider context of social justice, and whether there was a risk of losing support in the medical establishment if it came to be seen as a campaigning issue rather than a question of health policy.
Lisa said that:
Our whole law was put in place to medicalise the procedure, put it under doctors’ control and protect doctors. I think there is a big danger of losing their support if they don’t feel ownership of it.
However, the greater danger is that we don’t have a broad grassroots movement to protect abortion rights in this country. If we built a reproductive justice movement we would have a much more broad-based constituency to come out fighting when our rights are up for grabs in the Commons.
Darinka explained that “Abortion Rights’ primary role is to defend the 1967 Abortion Act.” But also that:
As an organization that has strong links to the trade union movement, we are inclined to stress the importance of abortion access as an economic issue. It has always been working class women who have suffered from a lack of access to safe, legal abortion.
Public service and spending cuts are going to hit women hardest and the reorganization of the NHS raises real questions about how access to abortion and contraception services will be maintained. So we are campaigning against the cuts alongside other organizations on a broader social justice basis.
Reproductive justice for the UK?
After talking to Mara, Lisa and Darinka it became clear that there are opportunities for the UK pro-choice movement in the reproductive justice approach, although simply importing the US model wouldn’t work. In Britain public and medical establishment support for the right to choose is far greater, there are fewer differences in access to healthcare along lines of race or sexual orientation, and there is more state support for families.
However, the British sexual and reproductive health landscape is shifting. While the usual attacks on the Abortion Act are being launched in Westminster (and Abortion Rights tirelessly resists them) a few more developments have been added to the mix over the last year – including controversy around the sterilisation of drug addicts and those with severe learning disabilities, the end of the Teenage Pregnancy Strategy, mass popular protests against the Pope’s visit, the crisis in midwifery, and health professionals calling out shoddy sex education in the media.
While there are a whole range of fantastic organizations working variously to defend and extend abortion rights and access, to improve sex education and sexual health, to support families and advance LGBT and women’s rights, to fight racism and inequalities in access to or influence on public services, this work doesn’t take place under a shared banner of Reproductive Justice.
I am a campaigner; I understand the need to choose your battles and your targets carefully. But as the ideological reforms of what is essentially a Tory government start to bite, I wonder if the battle may be coming to us. Perhaps it’s time to build a movement and raise the flag.
- With thanks to Education for Choice, Abortion Rights and the Abortion Support Network: three amazing charities that deserve your support.
Towards the end of the film there was a section about the ‘reproductive justice’ movement. The interviews intrigued me. It looked exciting, radical, inclusive and even kinda fun. The film featured an endearing group of smart, funny, young activists that reminded me of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, which is no bad thing in my book. After a few aspirin I was inspired to find out more…
Creative Commons picture by Brooke Anderson, 2006
What is reproductive justice?
Reproductive justice is a holistic, inclusive and intersectional campaign for reproductive rights and the conditions necessary for women to realize them. It is a movement led by women of colour, which addresses the right to have children as well as the right not to have children, expanding the focus out from abortion to include wider questions of sex education, sexuality, birth control and the impact of poverty and violence. This video is a good introduction: What is Reproductive Justice?
And here it is on Wikipedia for good measure.
I had a quick look online for UK reproductive justice groups or networks, but couldn’t find anything, although the US movement has been around since the 1990s. Of course it’s different terrain – here’s an F Word post about some of the differences between the US and UK around abortion and sex education – but is the reproductive justice approach relevant to the UK at all?
Realising reproductive rights
A key aspect of the reproductive justice approach is integrating pro-choice activism into a wider social justice movement. This is from SisterSong’s document ‘Understanding Reproductive Justice’:
Abortion isolated from other social justice/human rights issues neglects issues of economic justice, the environment, immigrants’ rights, disability rights, discrimination based on race and sexual orientation, and a host of other community-centered concerns directly affecting an individual woman’s decision making process.
By shifting the definition of the problem to one of reproductive oppression (the control and exploitation of women, girls, and individuals through our bodies, sexuality, labor, and reproduction) rather than a narrow focus on protecting the legal right to abortion, we are developing a more inclusive vision of how to move forward in building a new movement.
While defending the rights we are lucky enough to have protected by law is vital, the rights become meaningless if people can’t access them, and in many areas social and cultural change and economic equality are needed for people to realise their rights.
How might this be relevant to the UK pro-choice movement? Although abortion has been legal since 1967, and in theory it is freely available on the NHS, there are major inequalities in access. I spoke to Mara Clarke, founder of the Abortion Support Network, who explains some of the problems:
Abortion is available on the NHS, but only if you obtain two doctors’ signatures. This can be difficult if you live in an area with only one GP who is anti-abortion. Access to abortion services can be as much of a postcode lottery as any other service in the UK… This can make things more difficult for women as not only does the procedure become more invasive the further into pregnancy one gets, but not all clinics perform abortions up to the legal limit. This means some women opt to pay privately for abortions to avoid wait times, where other women have to wait until further in pregnancy and/or travel great distances to obtain the care they require.
Thanks to investment and prioritisation by the previous government, things have improved: 94% of abortions are now funded by the NHS, and waiting times have been drastically reduced. However, these achievements, like many others, are likely to be lost as vicious spending cuts unravel years of positive work.
And in both Northern Ireland – despite being part of the UK – and the Republic of Ireland, abortion is illegal except under extremely restricted circumstances. So every year in order to access safe and legal abortion thousands of women are forced to travel to England and pay anywhere between £400 and £2,000 for the cost of the procedure, travel, childcare and time off work. Abortion Support Network works to help these women by providing financial assistance, information, a meal and a safe place to sleep, but they can’t meet the need on their own.
There’s also a major problem around lack of unbiased information and impartial support around sexual health and pregnancy choices for young people, especially about abortion. Many young women are effectively prevented from making an informed decision because they are misinformed at school, or receive biased advice from bogus counselling services. Education for Choice work to make sure young people have the facts, but they are a tiny organisation fighting a wealthy anti-choice movement.
Abortion and race
The reproductive justice movement particularly addresses the experiences and needs of women of colour around sexual health, parenthood, pregnancy and abortion. While there are not such large differences in access to healthcare by ethnicity in Britain as in the US, there are some patterns. For example, according to Department of Health stats, black British women are almost three times more likely to have an abortion than white women (source). It’s not clear why this is, but when I asked Darinka Aleksic, Abortion Rights Campaign Co-ordinator, she suggested an economic explanation:
The argument advanced in the US is that because minority ethnic women are more likely to experience poverty and economic disadvantage, the abortion rate among these communities is therefore higher. The Department of Health in England and Wales does not include income levels in its abortion statistics, but Scotland does, and their figures regularly show that abortion rates are higher in economically disadvantaged areas.
As Darinka points out, there is a similar discrepancy in US abortion statistics, and there’s more in Part 2 about how this is being used by the anti-choice movement in America and starting to be used by our own merry band of anti-choicers.
- With thanks to Education for Choice, Abortion Rights and the Abortion Support Network: three amazing charities that deserve your support.
Come back tomorrow for Part 2
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Hands up everyone who had crappy sex education at school. You know – where you learnt about the tubes and the hormones, watched a video of someone giving birth and then a teacher put a condom on a banana and you were sent on your way. Maybe they also told you to wait til you were married, or you were 21, whichever came first. Hands up – yes, I thought so.
Mine was pretty similar (aside from one teacher telling us that an orgasm was like a really good sneeze… no, I don’t know either). Relationships and feelings and other relevant things weren’t discussed, and neither was abortion, despite the girl I sat next to in design tech having had one just the year before.
The A Word
In a way, I am relieved. Because I have seen some of the materials used to discuss abortion in schools all over the country, and they make my blood run cold. Most of it is little better than anti-choice propaganda, and much of it is simply untrue. Abortion makes you infertile, abortion gives you breast cancer… These lies are imparted to young people at the hands of abortion ‘experts’ who are invited into schools, often by well-meaning teachers desperate for guidance on how best to handle ‘the A word’. Young people deserve better than this.
The problem goes far deeper than the curriculum, of course. Abortion happens, whether it is legal or not, safe or not, all over the world. Globally, about 1 in 5 pregnancies end in abortion (some global and local stats). Reluctance to discuss abortion openly and truthfully in the media and in popular culture is doing untold damage to individuals and to women’s precious right to choose. How are teachers and youth workers meant to offer unbiased information and support if they themselves have never had the chance to have an open discussion? To hear the facts?
Secrets and lies
Refusing to tackle the subject of abortion allows stigma to flourish, putting young people facing unplanned pregnancy in a position where they may not even feel able to ask for help. Scaring young women into carrying an unwanted pregnancy to term benefits no one.
But no matter, right? There’s plenty of information freely available, and countless support and counselling services. So here’s a fun game: why not google ‘pregnancy counselling’ and let me know how many of those first page results you reckon are really offering unbiased information? If you find any really choice quotes please comment and share!
Freedom to choose
I’m not assuming all BadRep’s readers are pro-choice, but I’m sure there are some of you. Perhaps, like me, you’ve waved a placard or shouted into a megaphone for a woman’s right to choose and to control her own body.
Standing up for safe, legal abortion is vital, as there are plenty of people who will take any opportunity they can to turn the clock back on reproductive freedom. Some of them are sitting in Westminster right now, deciding your future. (That’s a nice thought, isn’t it?)
But the war is also being waged quietly and efficiently on another front, in our classrooms and in a host of so-called counselling clinics. It’s up to us to expose the propagandists and arm young people with the facts so that they can make their own decisions.
Yes! But how?
Well… *puts on charity trustee hat* Education for Choice are the first line of defence. They are the only UK-based educational charity dedicated to enabling young people to make informed choices about pregnancy and abortion.
With their mighty army of four staff they do heroic battle against the forces of misinformation on a shoestring budget. Times are hard for everyone right now, but in order for EFC to continue working in schools, with youth workers and health professionals, they urgently need your help.
Please:
- Donate £5, £10, or whatever you can spare to their emergency fund
- Pledge your support for the A Word campaign
Help EFC put abortion in the spotlight and make sure that young people’s right to unbiased information is at the top of the agenda.
What else can I do?
- Teach PSHE or know someone who does? Check out these resources.
- Have some time to spare? Become a Champion for Choice.
- Under 21? Have your say on the Youth Advisory Group.
- Have children of your own? Talk to them.
I
INFANT
So runs my dream: but what am I?
An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry.
Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam A.H.H. (1849)
LinkedIn.
Have you ever noticed how many I-words have the in/im prefix? These clarify what something is not.
Thus, in-nocent, in-nocuous = not harmful (the same root as ‘noxious’), im-potent = not powerful, in-capable = self explanatory; &c.
Infant is one such, but cleverly concealed by an unexpected etymology. Along with its archaic variants (enfaunt, infaunt), it derives from the Latin infans, which is the Greek ‘phemi’ in its plundered Roman form, ‘femi’, plus the Latinate negative (in- = ‘without’).
And phemi / femi? ‘To make known one’s thoughts, to declare’ or, simply, ‘to speak’.
Don’t Speak.
So an infant is ‘without speech’; or, as its first definition clarifies, ‘a child during the earliest period of its life (or still unborn)’ – Shakepeare’s ‘Infant, Mewling and puking in the Nurses Armes’.
Mew.
Newborns / kittens must indeed rely on ‘mewling’ for their day-to-day needs, but paradoxically such speechlessness gives them a symbolic potency that rings in the ear.
Indeed, they (babies, not kittens) have ‘spoken’ throughout history, from whistleblowing on promiscuous parents to confirmation of marital fidelity.
But hold on just one gosh-darned minute: that’s female fidelity, of course. The maternal connection is the only one you can prove, sans DNA testing. Male extra-curricular activity is neither here nor there.
And history is full of those awkward occasions when ‘speaking likenesses’ gives rise to speculation about what the child’s mother was up to nine months previously.
Mother’s Ruin.
Strangely, the infant’s own inevitable silence simply compounds the seeming power of what ‘they’ are saying: you’re hearing with your eyes rather than your ears. Or just reading.
Indeed, Paulina, the faithful lady-in-waiting in The Winter’s Tale would prove her mistress’ daughter legitimate by pointing to her book-like qualities: ‘Behold, my lords, / Although the print be little, the whole matter / And copy of the father…’
Well into the seventeenth century, the village gossip could also deduce parental naughtiness through something as seemingly random as a child’s constitution: weakness or disease suggested either that the parents had been having too much sex to copulate at their full vigour, or else that conception had happened during menstruation. You slags.
And it didn’t stop there: infants could also tell tales through the very time of their arrival. It was commonly believed that young’uns entered the world nine months to the day after their conception. Consequently, no child born on a Sunday could be christened until its parents had made a public apology for their desecration of the Lord’s Day. Busted.
Even a child’s existence could be disastrously significant.
To sea, To sea…
In 1741, the retired sea-captain Sir Thomas Coram set up London’s first Foundling Hospital, whence came unfortunates from all walks of life to ensure that their screamingly ill-begotten infants would be cared for and kept from incriminating them (not necessarily in that order).
In many instances, such abandonment was the alternative to killing the child or leaving it to die. So Coram was hardly acting on a whim: the social repercussions of Sin were severe, poverty and gin dependency rife (a woman’s problem, and also a means of inducing abortions – why else ‘Mother’s Ruin’?) and the streets covered with child corpses.
Infantine... 'The Angel In The House', photographed by Julia Margaret Cameron
So Coram’s critics accused him of fostering sin, by giving it a Hospital wherein to hide: to offer succour to bastard infants was to shield the sinful and encourage further debauchery. Let the wages of sin speak loud and clear.
Speak Now, Or Forever Hold Thy Peace.
In its second meaning, infant becomes more defined: it does not simply signify a speechless-screaming babe-in-arms, but also ‘a person under legal age; a minor’ (someone who has not ‘completed their twenty-first year’).
Here it is law-based, in reference, for example, to all those boy-kings of our early royal history (how many can you name????) – whose legitimacy is the most important thing of all, taking priority over minor considerations such as… oh, I don’t know, BEING OLDER THAN SIX.
Infant in this sense connotes something like having yet to earn freedom sui juris; the legal understanding that a person is fit to govern themselves (and, in royal cases, a country), and consequent emancipation from the rule of parent, guardian or Lord Protector.
Among Spanish royals – to this day – children who are not the direct heir to the throne have the title Infante / Infanta; presumably giving us English our third definition for infant (‘a youth of noble birth’), these are princes of the blood, but they ain’t ruling nothing.
Exit, Pursued by a Bear.
It is also worth considering the more direct fate of infants’ mothers: ‘The very being or legal existence of the women is suspended during marriage’ wrote William Blackstone in 1765. A financial, legal and social dependent – like the children she bore – a wife could be ‘infantine’ through her official speechlessness, than which there is no more perfect example than Coventry Patmore’s poem The Angel in the House (1854-62):
He’s never young nor ripe; she grows
More infantine, auroral, mild,
And still the more she lives and knows
The lovelier she’s express’d a child.
Yet, like the screaming infants littering Coram’s Fields, the silent appendage speaks vicariously: dress, jewellery and inactivity declare her husband’s wealth and status; ‘mildness’ and ‘loveliness’ (like youth and innocence) embody the ideals men battle to protect, with smatterings of the overpowering Rightness of the domestic sphere.
She remains, of course, firmly on her pedestal, and statues, as we know, do not speak (unless they are late Shakespearean and have the rather badass Paulina fighting their corner).
So being infantilised does not mean saying nothing; rather, it means saying what those around you choose to hear.
NEXT WEEK: J is for Jade
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