Speaking of San Francisco media, Girldrive was featured in the San Fran Chronicle today! Yay!

Ms. Sorrentino,

Your article criticizing Angie Jackson’s choice to speak publicly about having an abortion on Twitter, YouTube, and her blog was one of the more infuriating things I’ve read all week. And that’s saying something. You conclude your piece by saying that Jackson’s decision is “at its worst…self-serving, exhibitionist and selfish. At best, it has ‘bad judgment’ written all over it.” But after re-reading your argument many times, I’m with Amanda and Jos: I can’t for the life of me figure out how you got there without some seriously anti-choice, anti-feminist thinking.

The first strike against Jackson in your book seems to be that she was irresponsible for getting pregnant…because she didn’t get sterilized. “If her decision about ending her child-bearing is solid and responsible, one has to wonder why she didn’t just have a tubal ligation.” Really? One does? I don’t. I don’t think it’s any of my business what type of birth control method Jackson uses and why she chose it. But as long as we’re on the subject, she says she was using an IUD when she unexpectedly got pregnant. Coincidentally, I also use an IUD! And while I have no idea why Jackson chose hers, I know one of the things I was attracted to was the 99.9% effectiveness rate. The idea that you would question a woman’s “commitment” to preventing pregnancies because she opted for a long-term 99.9% effective method that, let me tell you, can be extremely painful to have inserted over a permanent 99.9% effective method that requires invasive surgery is just ridiculous.

But, more importantly, since when is the pro-choice movement in the business of prescribing contraceptive methods and deciding which women’s abortions are acceptable and which ones aren’t? She was using a goddamn IUD. But even if she was using a hope and a prayer, she gets to be supported in her decision to have an abortion by us. That’s the deal. Because all contraceptive methods can—and do—fail, and because it’s patronizing to assume you know more about a woman’s life and reproductive system than she does. Sure, we’d like all women to use the most effective form of birth control that works for them, but let’s leave paternalistic judgments and public shaming to the other side—they’ve really got it down at this point. The second strike against Jackson simply seems to be that she is a blogger and is writing a book; she must be tweeting her abortion to “boost future book sales.” But you provide not one shred of evidence—and there seems to be no reason to believe—that’s the case. From the beginning, Jackson has consistently and clearly stated her motivation for speaking out: “I’m doing this to demystify abortion. I’m doing this so that other women know, ‘Hey, it’s not nearly as terrifying as I had myself worked up thinking it was.’ It’s just not that bad.” She mentioned her book in an interview to explain that talking publicly about her abortion seemed natural to her since she’s been writing about her experiences and tackling controversial subjects online for years.

Next, you present this as a generational problem; Jackson, being 27, takes her right to abortion for granted and therefore must treat it lightly. Women of your generation, who had no legal reproductive rights and saw first-hand the horrors of illegal abortions, “understand how precious the right to choose is” and “know things that Ms. Jackson clearly cannot fathom.” Sure, Jackson wasn’t forced to have a back-alley abortion and yes, that’s thanks to the hard-won victories of reproductive rights pioneers such as yourself. But, in fact, Ms. Jackson clearly does appreciate this legal right, or she wouldn’t have felt it was so important to speak publicly about it in the hopes of demystifying the experience for other women. She also seems well-versed in the history of the reproductive rights movement. In fact, by speaking out she’s simply continuing a long tradition of women telling their abortion stories in order to destigmatize and humanize the choice–from the 1969 Redstocking Abortion Speakout to consciousness-raising meetings to Ms. magazine’s “We Had Abortions” feature to documentaries like I Had An Abortion and websites like I’m Not Sorry. You seem to assume that because Jackson’s channels of communication are Twitter, YouTube, and Blogspot, she must be flippant about her right to abortion. It doesn’t and she isn’t; it just means it’s 2010.

And it appears Jackson might have a better grasp on the threats to abortion rights in 2010 than you do. You say that the right you and your peers were fighting so hard for was based on the right to “privacy” and imply that by sharing her decision with her 800 Twitter followers Jackson is somehow abusing that right. But since when has the right to privacy incurred an obligation to keep it secret? Nobody, least of all Jackson, is questioning the fact that her decision to get an abortion was and should be made privately–by her alone, in consultation with her family and doctor. (It’s not like she did an online poll of her Twitter followers to decide whether to continue the pregnancy for heaven’s sake.)

But it’s that second decision–the decision to speak publicly about her choice–that is at issue here and that is steeped in cultural forces that take it well beyond the right to privacy. The fact that most women who have abortions don’t talk about them–even with friends and family–is not just because it’s a private decision but also because abortion is still shrouded in stigma and shame. Obviously, not all women would want to tell the world about their abortion–just like not all women would want to tell the world about their pregnancy cravings, or their root canal surgery, or their mother’s death. And those women have the right to keep their abortion entirely to themselves because, of course, it’s nobody’s goddamn business. But when one-third of American women have an abortion in their lifetimes and yet just one of them tweeting about it provokes CNN appearances, death threats, and denouncements even from pro-choicers, that’s a pretty good clue something is up. Something like–oh, I don’t know–pervasive cultural messages that tell women abortion is something to be ashamed of and not something to be talked about. And in that context, the decision to speak publicly about it is not just within Jackon’s rights (as you begrudgingly admit)–it becomes a political act.

It’s frankly astounding to me that someone who has spent their life “on the front lines of the abortion debate” could write about Jackson’s choice without even once acknowledging this broader social context. Because that context matters. The fact that abortion is so stigmatized has real effects on the debate over reproductive rights today. It means that the anti-choice movement is able to step into the deafening silence and paint women who have abortions as irresponsible or confused or monstrous. It means that fewer and fewer young doctors are willing to provide abortions in their practices. It means that people my age are less pro-choice than previous generations because it’s easier to believe that women who get abortions aren’t the women they know and love.

Reasonable pro-choice people can disagree about the extent to which one public abortion story like Jackson’s will change this powerful stigma, but to not even acknowledge its existence and its damaging influence is more than “bad judgment” in my opinion. At best, your article demonstrates a lack of understanding about the state of abortion politics today. At worst, it reinforces the stigma around abortion by echoing anti-choice ideas about what kinds of women get abortions, who should be allowed to, and how they should feel about it.

Sincerely,

Maya Dusenbery

“Very Young Girls” is an expose of human trafficking that follows thirteen and fourteen year old American girls as they are seduced, abused, and sold on New York’s streets by pimps, and treated as adult criminals by police. The film follows the barely-adolescent girls in real time, using vérité and intimate interviews with them as they are first lured on to the streets and the dire events which follow. The film also uses startling footage shot by the brazen pimps themselves giving a rare glimpse into how the cycle of street life begins for many women.

Check out the trailer below. Thanks to Sadye’s Twitter feed for the tip.

My favorite is when a guy gets asked about the birth control pill and he says this: “I guess that’s the one I have most indirect experience with, and I guess that it would be my favorite.” I bet it is, buddy. (To be fair, some guys knew what they were talking about. The guy with the hat is pretty smart.)

But on a serious note: can I reiterate that sexual health knowledge is not just a woman’s realm? That men should know about birth control, the statistics on date rape, abortion access and other such essential life info? Cause I’m tired of being the only one who gets lectured on sex and how to protect myself. Throw us a bone, guys. (No pun intended.) It’s not cute when you don’t know anything about our lady parts.

That said, I’m wondering how women would fare with the same kind of experiment. Something tells me that a lot of us women don’t know what goes on with our bodies, either. What do you think?

I didn’t realize I was intelligent until college; even then, however, I still had my doubts.

In third grade I was diagnosed with a learning disability. According to LD Online, “Fifteen percent of the U.S. population, or one in seven Americans, has some type of learning disability.” It was absolutely horrifying to my third-grade-curly-haired-self. From the way it was presented to me, I knew it was something negative; something no one wanted. Some of you may not know what exactly a learning disability is.

Here’s a definition:

A learning disability is a neurological disorder. In simple terms, a learning disability results from a difference in the way a person’s brain is “wired.” Children with learning disabilities are as smart or smarter than their peers, but they may have difficulty reading, writing, spelling, reasoning, recalling and/or organizing information (LD Online).

I was diagnosed as having two types of learning disabilities, both of which are mild for the most part. One, which is quite common, is called Dyscalculia. This is a “mathematical disability in which a person has a difficult time solving arithmetic problems and grasping math concepts.” The second one I have is called Language Processing, which basically means I have trouble recalling information or retrieving words to express something. I fought with these disabilities long and hard when I was younger.

Immediately after this diagnosis, I was enrolled in special ed class. It was horrible. Us “special” kids would have to leave in the middle of regular class to go to “special” class and it was always so embarrassing. All of the students knew where we were going–they knew we were “dumb.” All through elementary school, I felt different and extremely stupid. In fact, I had many teachers who actually told me things like, “You’re not going to be able to do things like other kids”, or “We don’t expect you to do this that well, because you’re not as smart as the others.” Literally. Or, teachers would say, “Oh, that’s just a crutch.” No, it’s not a crutch–though, if I want to use it as a crutch, that’s my damn right.

When an authoritative figure tells a young girl that she is nothing, those words really stick to her (This is why I’ve never understood the whole, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” saying). Because of the many terrible teachers I’ve encountered, I’ve never been that fond of teachers in general, unless they teach at the university level—these ones seem to have their shit together and appear more educated on the subject of learning disabilities. I still deal with those negative comments in my head to this day. I learned early not to ask teachers questions if I didn’t understand something. When I did ask, they acted like I wasn’t listening. I was always listening.

It’s really difficult to be a girl child in general, but to be labeled “disabled,” and be a girl in this society is a lot to handle. I knew other girls like me in school, but I felt myself not wanting to associate with them. I wanted so badly to fit in and to be considered “normal.” This seems to be the constant struggle for young women. Even though my disability can’t be seen, I used to always feel like I wore it on my sleeve. I always felt others could see my secret shame. I hate that word…”disabled.” It makes me feel like I can’t breathe–like I’m “slow” and “different,” and it’s always used in a negative way. Perhaps this is why I still have trouble telling people, even my closest friends, that I have a learning disability. I worry they will look at me differently. I worry they will pity me.

Today, I know that I’m intelligent. I mean, I’m in a Master’s program, I must be somewhat smart. Though, every now and again I get called back to that 3rd grade place of shame. I used to despise my “disability.” I used to be violent towards it. I hated myself. Then, luckily, once I got accepted into college and received a Fine Arts Scholarship and others, as well as having great supporters, I realized that maybe I was smart. Maybe it wasn’t terrible to be “different.” I can honestly say that I am thankful for my learning disability. I like that I don’t think like everyone else. My 3rd grade self would never, in a million years, think I would say this. But I am saying it–loud and proud.

My hope is that young women with learning disabilities will strive and feel good about themselves and their abilities. A learning disability is not so much a “dis”-ability, but an outright “ability” that makes one’s mind unique and beautiful. It’s no fun to think the same as everyone. Remember that.

In my daily existence, I deal on a strictly local basis. My job as a reporter confines me to five towns in the Chicago suburbs. Even most of my freelance work and blogging intensely focuses on the uniquely American experience.

So I’m thankful for this day to jolt me out of my tunnel vision, especially since it’s easy to miss the dwindling amount of international coverage the media provides nowadays. And even though Girldrive is a truly American story, some women we talked to explicitly told me and Emma that feminism needs to get out of its Western bubble.

Here are some IWD events going on across the country. Also see Gender Across Borders’ International Women’s Day blog directory–many many feminist blogs are jumping on the bandwagon today and blogging about global issues.

Check it out…it’s pretty amusing:

Berkeley reading:

When: TONIGHT, March 4th, 7:30 p.m.
Where: Moe’s Books, 2476 Telegraph Avenue, Berkeley
What: I will be signing copies and reading from Girldrive, including profiles of some Bay Area ladies.

San Fran reading:

When: Friday, March 5th, 7:00 p.m.
Where: Modern Times Bookstore, 888 Valencia Ave., San Francisco
What: I, along with Girldrive interviewees Rebecca Rosenfelt and Bea Sullivan, will be reading from Girldrive. Famed ecofeminist Starhawk might make a guest appearance, too!

Anyone who knows me is probably surprised that this blog post hasn’t shown up earlier. I am lightweight obsessed with My So-Called Life, I’ll be the first to admit it. But it’s only because that show was the shit and so was its heroine. Angela was great because she was incredibly, discomfitingly real.

I loved how she was dorky and awkward and wore brown overalls with a black shirt–yet was still so inexplicably cool that every teenage girl in America wanted to be her. I loved how she was insecure and stumbly and passive-aggressive, yet still stuck to her guns (remember when she went to that teacher’s house and demanded why he abandoned his family? Remember when she told Jordan she wasn’t going to lose her V-card in some skeezy abandoned house?). I love that she was unconventional-looking and had zits and compared her small breasts to the huge ones in the locker room, yet was also beautiful and confident at random times and had that awesome shiny red hair. I loved how all her statements were questions (“When you call someone’s name? Like, kind of loud? And they don’t hear you? It makes you feel really lonely.”) I loved how she was completely insightful and utterly oblivious all at once. I just love her and always will.

Girldrive interviewee Ula kindly pointed me to this simply amazing video of Angela’s greatest hits from FourFour. Enjoy:

Anyway, since clearly I have a one-track mind, we started shootin the shit about feminism, and damn did these ladies have something to say:

Nona: Do you guys claim the word “feminism”?

Kelley: Yes. I hate when people say “I’m not a feminist but I enjoy using birth control, not having to be married, being able to have a career.” The word needs to be more celebrated than it is.

Jessi: I’m a feminist but I don’t like forceful, overbearing feminism. It seems like some feminists have this set of rules, and you’re wrong for everything you do. So I’m a feminist, but in a positive way. I’d rather show it by example rather than preach.

Nikki: I don’t feel the need to label things. We’re fuckin’ livin’ hard, out of a van, doin’ things that dudes complain about.

Jessi: Oh also! None of us care to shave our armpit hair, but people make a really big deal out of it!

[hysterical laughing all around]

Jessi: See, and I think that’s cool for people to see. We don’t even mention it or make a big deal out of it. So I think a lot of people all of a sudden are like, Oh ok.

Kelley: Yeah, “like they’re wearing makeup, doing girly shit.” It’s all about what you’re comfortable doing. I can’t believe people are grossed out about something so natural. Remember when that girl went on MTV and talked about her armpit hair? People freaked out!

[we all remember. obviously.]

Jessi: It’s like saying, “We’re feminists, and we’re normal just like you.” You don’t have to be a freak of nature to be a feminist.

Nikki: Sometimes, people ask me if our song, “The Whole Damn Thing,” is a feminist song about body image. And I’m like, “Um…sure! Why not?”

Kelley: There are a lot of feminist musicians who don’t call themselves feminists, like Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton…

Nona: Oh god, I love Dolly. My religion on Facebook is “Dollywood.”

Kelley: Haha, yeah, she’s awesome. But she doesn’t come out and say she’s a feminist.

Nona: What do you guys think about the term “girl band”?

Kelley: It can get really annoying. One time I saw us referred to as a “girl-only band” as our only descriptor in this listings magazine. Every other band was “electronica” or “rock” or something. Come on, “girl-only band”? That tells you nothing at all. You would never call a band a “boy-only band.” But for some reason, it’s still okay for women. Hopefully just the sheer number of women in bands will change that.”

Damn straight. Listen to a clip of the “The Whole Damn Thing” here. Is it a feminist anthem? You decide: