My Busy Day: A Tale of Effortless Access

Update on WA States R-71: Not that I can find the article again, but for now, it appears I will not get to have my witch hunt for all those family friendly folks in Washington State that follow the religious credo of "love thy (straight) neighbor". Actually, I didn't want a witch hunt, I just wanted to be able to participate in "loving" my neighbors too. And when you really love someone, it's best to be honest and tell them EXACTLY how you feel about them.

Hopefully, more to come on this.

A little about my day yesterday. It was busy, like a big long to do list that promised fun. I woke up (late; I hate mornings), went to my internship, went shoe shopping becuse I discovered I was lacking in the black heels department, ran home to get ready for the Champions of Sexual Literacy event, (this year honoring Cecile Richards, the President of Planned Parenthood), fretted over what to wear, got a run in my nylons, fretted over my nylons, dashed to the mall to get new nylons, went to class, hit up Wal-Greens so I could pick up Plan-B (babies and MA thesis' don't mix for me; I only have so much energy right now), then off I went to watch Cecile Richards get an award for being such a wonderful proponent of sexual rights. I mingled a little, drank a bit, enjoyed the potato bar, shook Ms. Richards hand and thanked her for making my aforementioned Wal-Greens trip possible (surrounded by some beloved cohort members who appreciated the irony), then off I dashed to see Echo and the Bunnymen with my guy. And I have to say, wow, that concert kicked ass. 

Typical day. Actually, not so much. Picking up Plan-B is something I've done once before in my life. The first time I sat in Planned Parenthood for what seemed like forever. I was called back and by a wonderful, nonjudgmental Planned Parenthood employee, was provided with Plan B and a goody bag of condoms. But it took time; I worried about missing class and work. And quite honestly, the hushed ambiance of young women, some alone, some with partners, cordoned off to think about why they are at Planned Parenthood, leaves a heavy feeling of shame in the room. Don't get me wrong, Planned Parenthood performs an immensely important service, but due to the state of women's reproductive rights in this country, Planned Parenthood has been forced into a dark place, a pl;ace that is unmentionable in "decent" company, a box that contains guilt, shame. A place that is unacceptable to list on a "to do" list. At the time, I was simply happy I had another option outside of panic. Even with precautions and being careful in sexual practices, sometimes, to put it simply, shit happens. So why am I sharing this? Why do I find this private moment to be something that I can casually slip into a laundry list of how my day went? Well, to put it simply: this is how it should be.

Shit does happen, and in general, it happens to women. At least as far as reproductive rights go. This is of course because women are the ones who actually have the potential to give birth. In terms of pregnancy, it is the woman who goes into hormonal swings, it is women who spend 10 months staring in the mirror and seeing themselves become someone else. It is women whose bodies get internally kicked around and externally stretched out. I personally believe that sexual health and happiness is a right that should be enjoyed by all. But in this area, it is women who have more to worry about. Even with child support laws and the contributions that men can make emotionally, pregnancy happens to women. I do not say this to belittle the feelings that fathers, potential fathers, or fathers for a minute feel. Those feelings are valid, but it is the woman who must physically deal with her own body, and in this way, it is the woman who experiences this reality on her own.

As opposed to waiting in an office, an office that often has at least one Mr. Picketer Dude who has to throw in his two cents about murdering babies, an office that has to buzz you in and as a safety precaution seperates the employees from the rest of the world by bullet proof glass, breezing into Wal-Greens, telling the pharmacist on duty that I need Plan-B, being asked if I'd like brand name or generic, was much easier on my day and my general mental health. In and out, and not really a second thought. Except I am still thinking about it, and I'm thinking that all women need to have this kind of worry free, casual access to birth control and pregnancy prevention that applies neither shame, guilt nor stress from outside sources and opnions who wait in utter glee to assign judgment that in reality they have no right to assign.

The cost was over $40. For me, this was an easy choice; $40 now, or $100,000 over the next 18 years. This is not so easy for all women. $40 could be the difference between groceries or no groceries or car fuel or no car fuel. For now, I am happy that there is availability, a foot in the door. But I don't want the only foot in the door to be women in privelaged positions. I know clinics like Planned Parenthood and others provide Plan B on a sliding scale and often for free, but not all women feel comfortable with using Planned Parenthood and various other free clinics. A large part of reproductive rights involves access; without access, rights mean nothing.

Until we can move away from a model of making women feel guilt and shame for having to make difficult decisions (and honestly, sometimes not so difficult decisions), access will not be available for all. Until we can celebrate the technology that allows women to have more control over their bodies and lives than ever before instead of condemning women for wanting to control their bodies and lives, access will not be available to all. Until we can celebrate women as women, not as property to someone else or mandatory baby factories, until we can get to a point where when a woman says "No, I really don't want a child" no one else, older and so much wiser responds with "you'll change your mind" with a knowing and smug smile, as if all women dream of wanting kids and are otherwise incomplete humans without them, until we can respect women's voices, wants and desires, we will not have access for all.

I feel lucky, and I need to acknowledge that luck as a place of privelage that is not available to all. I only hope that my optimism will hold out long enough to see the day when other women who know what they want can sandwich a trip to Wal Greens for emergency contraception between school and a social function effortlessly, guiltlessly, and shamelessly.