Anti-choice websites now promote male “abortion regret” stories—which are mostly an exercise in encouraging men to try to control women’s bodies, even with bullying.
Certainly, sharing abortion stories can be a powerful act and may reduce self-stigma. But I fear that it distracts from the structural inequalities of race, poverty, age, and education by placing too much emphasis on the individual. And I worry that it lets our politicians and policymakers off the hook.
It’s irresponsible to point to a character with a large chest or a perky butt as a problem, because that implies women are responsible for the patriarchal notion that makes these things problematic. But we do need to move away from stereotypes altogether to create characters that do not fit into the same tired box.
Because Depo-Provera is an important contraceptive choice and because in many parts of the world, it is the only long-acting, discreet option available to women, it is vital to take the issue of a link between HIV and hormonal contraception quite seriously while adding nuance to the discussion.
If, in the broader sense, conversion therapy is any set of actions designed to convince trans people to abandon our genders and sexes, governments large and small are the biggest offenders out there.
Nicki Minaj told a nuanced story about her high school abortion, but most of the headlines suggested that she is, or should be, ashamed of the experience. Sadly, this is what happens all too often when women try to tell complex abortion stories in the public sphere.
Even as it championed midwives in a recent piece, the New York Times editorial board unwittingly slipped into language that suggests midwifery care is a second-tier option—language that reflects broader public attitudes throughout the United States.
How can pro-choice advocates change the cultural conversation that can help win policy victories? For starters, according to speakers at this year’s Rootscamp, don’t be afraid to say “abortion.”
Treating Nadia Ezaldein’s tragic death as an anomaly diminishes the pervasiveness of domestic abuse throughout the country—and it erases why it is imperative for communities to make preventing and intervening in domestic violence a priority.
Yet the Entertainment Software Rating Board, responsible for rating all games in the United States and Canada, has only given a content warning for “sexual violence” twice in more than a decade.