Politician Advocates Birth Control for Welfare Recipients

Elise Foreman, Resident Blogger (‘16, Emory University School of Law)

Stories depicting the regulation and subsequent criminalization of the poor are far too common, almost mundane, in a country that espouses the virtues of democracy and asserts constitutional rights in the drop of a hat. However, the recent kerfuffle in Arizona points to something even more sinister baked into America’s apple pie coating. Earlier this week, the state’s GOP vice president (rightfully) resigned his post after advocating for sterilization of the state’s Medicaid recipients. This cracker-jack reasoning was punctuated with the statement: “. . . if you want to (reproduce) or use drugs or alcohol, then get a job.” (Full story here). The debate over drug testing for government aid recipients has been dissected ad nauseum, and fortunately been struck down in the courts. (For a review of this issue, see The Huffington Post’s collection).

But this latest call for sterilization should cause hesitation in even the most conservative thinkers. In a political climate that still hotly debates abortion even 40 years following Roe v. Wade, these statements point to a dissonance in the reproductive debate. Certainly there is a difference between birth control and abortion, however the point remains centered over the control one has over his or her reproductive future. Individuals, by virtue of being human, claim the right to exercise complete autonomy over their reproductive choices; this right is not premised on his or her financial situation or employment status. Regulating the reproductive choices of an individual based upon his or her Medicaid status demonstrates that such individual should be disallowed of this inherent human right because he or she is in fact less than human. No person or entity should breach another’s bodily integrity, nor advocate for rules that do so. For once and for all, get the government out of these intimate decisions and focused on topics it should be discussing. I have a list.

Dangerous Data

Rosie Wang, Resident Blogger (’14, Columbia Law School)

The Utah Senate has passed SB60, a bill that would force health care providers to collect information from women seeking abortions on their ethnicity, the stage of pregnancy, and the reason given for the procedure. While the federal government already provides this data, this bill is a preventative measure to ensure that even if federal government changes its approach, Utah will still have access to this information. This is troubling because the sponsor of the bill, Senator Margaret Dayton, has previously expressed interest in challenging race-selective abortions as well as targeting specific cultural preferences that supposedly give rise to sex-selective abortions. The information sought to be gathered by SB60 sounds like it could be a stepping stone to a number of racially charged campaigns that disguise their anti-abortion agenda with a veneer of concern about women and people of color. This is a strategy that has been attempted before, with billboards accusing black women who seek abortions of committing genocide. This bill also sounds like a precursor to so-called “Prenatal Non-Discrimination Act” or PRENDA, which would have required health care providers to report women they suspected of seeking an abortion for reasons based on the fetus’ gender or race. PRENDA purported to be pro-women but was actually a way to both scrutinize and stereotype women based on race and create arbitrary obstacles to abortion access.  PRENDA failed in the House of Representatives last May.

Senator Dayton’s assumptions about the makeup of society and people’s ability to function within it suggests that she is not aware of the effects of being denied reproductive choice. It is her stated belief that the “traditional family is the fundamental unit of our society” is blind to the fact that “traditional families” account for only 7% of the US population. It is her belief that “personal initiative is better than government programs,” when unplanned pregnancy perpetuates the cycle of poverty. Dayton’s focus on personal initiative sounds like another way of saying that she would not be in favor of investing in programs targeting poverty, hunger, and poor health outcomes that would help women considering abortions post-pregnancy. Legislators who ignore the reality of family structures and what it takes to sustain them can hardly be presumed to be using this type of information to the best interest of women.

Abortion isn’t my story. But it’s an important part of it.

Ash Moore, Resident Blogger (’14, University of Oklahoma College of Law)

It is the 40th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. I’m in law school so you may think you’re about to be bombarded with legalese and a disconnected opinion. But I have a different and important perspective – a personal one.

When I was a teenager, I was raped. Gang raped. And as cliche and trite as it has become, I was ashamed and felt like it was my fault. So, despite my better judgment, the first thing I did was take a hot shower. I washed away all evidence of the crime even though I knew exactly what I was doing. After the shower, I went in to denial. I tried to pretend like it didn’t happen. I didn’t get tested for STDs and I didn’t do anything about a potential pregnancy.

Then, in a couple of months when I started throwing up and feeling like I was getting fatter, reality set in with a vengeance and brought sheer terror with it. I didn’t know anything about pregnancy except how it came about and I knew it was a possibility.

At that point, I was more determined not to tell anyone than I was before. What if they didn’t believe me? Or what if they did and they were furious I did everything I wasn’t supposed to do? Either way, what was I going to do if I was really pregnant? I knew abortion was an option, but I didn’t want to kill something growing inside me.

I could give a baby up for adoption, but my life would be permanently changed and maybe ruined in the meantime. I didn’t know if that option was selfish, but I didn’t make a mistake, this was forced on me. Couldn’t I put myself first for a second?

I could keep the baby. But I truly believed that wouldn’t be the best thing for the baby. I wouldn’t be able to give it the kind of life it deserved. I would struggle, not have money, and be a young parent (with or without help) which is hard on the people I knew who had young parents.

Whether you think it was right or wrong, abortion was a huge part of the decision process. And the longer I thought about it, the more it seemed like the most rational and right choice. I’m deeply religious and that caused a huge problem and huge internal struggle. Would God understand? Would He approve? Would I be condemned? I knew no matter what decision I made, I would never be the same again.

Most people agree that abortion should be available for rape victims. So I wasn’t in the same position as the women struggling with restricted rights today. But what was the same was the excruciating decision process and fear. What the pregnancy test result was and what I ultimately decided are irrelevant.

What is relevant was that I had a tough decision to make and no matter what I decided, more options made the tortuous experience a little easier. It made me feel like others had struggled and came to the same decision I did; no matter what I chose, I knew I would never blame or fault anyone for making a different one in that impossible situation.

No matter how someone gets to the point where they need to make a decision regarding a pregnancy (through rape, mistake, health or money problems, or other things I may not be able to think about right now), I believe all the choices I had should be available to every other woman (and more if we can find them).

I think access to all the choices should be easy because the decision making process is hard enough. I think most women probably walk in to a doctor’s office or adoption agency after as much thought, pain, and tears as I went through. Any obstacles to make these personal decisions harder are cruel and unusual punishment.

If abortion is the ultimate decision, I believe no doctor or spectator has a better idea of the heartbeat about to stop than the woman who has to live with the decision. As you can see, abortion isn’t my story. But it’s an important part of it. And it’s an important part of society. No matter what you would choose, imagine, as I did, the process without one or more of the choices.  Then look me in the eye and tell me you want to do that to another living, breathing, caring, concerned person who is only trying to think about the best decision she can make for herself and her family. It should never be harder than it was for me. Or you. If you know the feeling.

O Sister, Where Art Thou in the Struggle for the Mountaintop?

Catrina Otonoga, LSRJ Summer Legal Intern

I am an Ohio girl at heart. The child and grandchild of immigrants, I was taught to speak English with a Cleveland accent, to cheer for the Buckeyes and never utter the name of that state up North, and to eat my schnitzel and stuffed cabbage with a side of Bertman’s stadium mustard and French fries.  And, when I began dating my partner from Southeastern Ohio, I learned to love the low, winding hills of Appalachia, the sounds of banjos, fiddles, mandolins, and the sweet burn of bourbon. I sat on porch swings and listened for the call of the whippoorwill, and walked our dog along dirt roads lined with miles of forest and tinged with the scent of honeysuckle.

But, just beyond those tree lined roads, coal, the black gold of Appalachia and the Ohio River Valley, and the way it is mined, threatens to destroy and maim the health and wealth of Appalachian women today and into future generations. Coal is king in this part of the country, and women in the region face what may seem an insurmountable hurdle to getting their voices heard over the increasing booms of explosives. Women continue to be pushed into poverty in Appalachia and face barriers to employment, education, and health services. These women are largely overlooked by academia, and statistics on their experiences are difficult to find. Now, their communities are being threatened, their bodies destroyed, their voices ignored by governments and mining executives. Mining is not just a climate issue, or an environmental issue, but increasingly a reproductive justice issue.

I have seen the environmental effects of mountain top mining first hand, the earth stripped bare of its former lush. But, the effects of blasting away mountain tops in search of unsustainable resources stretch beyond the environmental. Coal Ash and coal slurry, byproducts of coal mining, contain; mercury, iron, lead, manganese, cadium, and haxavalent chromium (the stuff Erin Brockovich sued over), which has been linked to cancer. These dangerous byproducts are stored in underground pipelines and ponds, which spring leaks and seep into water for drinking, showering and cooking.  Mountain top mining has been linked to birth defects, fetal abnormality, and infertility. The rate of children born with birth defects is 42% higher in mountaintop removal mining areas than elsewhere in Appalachia. It’s an invisible process, happening over generations, but eventually the outcome is poison— poison of land, rivers, and people. Where the disastrous effects are mountain top mining are most visible, you can practically see the air around you, tinged with dust and chemicals, the rivers and creeks are no longer clear, the earth is stripped to its core, this is where people often have the least access to agency and the most risk to their health.

Despite isolation, poverty and little access to health resources, the women of Appalachia are rising up and calling mountaintop mining what it is, not just an assault on their homes but on their bodies.  Women like Marilyn Mullins are receiving national attention after leading a group of women to march on the West Virginia state capital, heads shaved in solidarity with the land. The Central Appalachian Women’s Tribunal, which focused on gender and climate justice, brought together groups including the Feminist Task Force of the Global Call to Action Against Poverty, the Loretto Community at the United Nations, and West Virginia Free to hold the first tribunal of its kind in the US in early May of this year. Women’s bodies have always been tied to the land in terms like Mother Nature, Mother Earth, and virgin forests.  It is time to take back not only the land, but to further incorporate environmental assaults and their aftermath on women’s bodies into the framework of reproductive justice.

The American Dream, Interrupted.

Rosie Wang, LSRJ Summer Legal Intern

In many ways Bei Bei Shuai’s story sounds like my mom’s. Both women were raised in large Chinese cities, in households where both parents worked. Both came to the United States, following partners with promising job prospects. Both worked in Chinese restaurants while harboring plans to improve their English and get graduate degrees. It’s the story of many Chinese immigrant women, but Ms. Shuai’s narrative diverged when, at eight months pregnant, she was abandoned by her boyfriend who, it turns out, had another family.

Suffering from major depression, Ms. Shuai ingested rat poison as a suicide attempt and was rushed to the hospital by friends. She consented to all treatment to save her life and her pregnancy, but while she survived, but the baby she gave birth to died after a few days. She was charged with murder and attempted feticide while still hospitalized for an emotional breakdown and then spent 435 days in prison. She is now out on bail, but paying for a GPS-enabled ankle bracelet that will cost her $2500 until her trial.

What is wrong with this picture?

Well, what part of what Bei Bei Shuai did was criminal? Suicide is not a crime in Indiana and the law used to charge Ms. Shuai with feticide was targeted at third party attacks on pregnant women, not abortion. This particular interpretation of the law is the result of a swelling segment of anti-choice advocates who want to give fetuses separate legal personhood. This in turn criminalizes the behavior of pregnant women and subjects them to investigation for miscarriages or poor birth outcomes. Pregnant women would become a separate class with fewer rights.
Second, criminal penalties hardly seem like an effective deterrent to actions made under extreme emotional disturbance. That just isn’t how mental health works! Instead there needs to be careful screening and medical treatment for the 13-20% of women who experience depression while pregnant, and the 30% of depressed pregnant women have suicidal ideation.
Finally, let’s go back to the familiar story of Ms. Shuai’s immigrant experience. Many media outlets have portrayed Ms. Shuai sympathetically, but this sympathy can misguidedly stem from referencing the model minority myth rather what is owed to all women. The one interview with Bei Bei Shuai currently online shows her answering the questions about her family, her hopes upon arriving in America, and how she spent her time in prison. She answers that she came to the US wanting independence and an MBA, has been taking classes in prison, and is still strongly determined to live in America.

Together, Ms. Shuai’s optimistic answers and lack of hard feeling toward the American justice system form a perfect narrative of the grateful, educated, and ambitious immigrant. It seems to announce to white viewers, “Hey! She might be a foreigner and a woman of color, but she’s middle class, loves this country, and believes in its bootstrapping principles! We can sympathize with her and thus she deserves better!” But the insidious implication in the media constructing this type of narrative is that only people who have lived “perfect” lives up until that point — those who can answer those questions as Ms. Shuai or my mother would — are entitled to bodily autonomy and freedom from state intrusion into their private grief. And even if Bei Bei Shuai’s Chinese upbringing might look like a non-threatening analogue of the stereotypical American family, 34% of American children actually do not live in a home with two married parents. Many women from these families are especially vulnerable in terms of the ability to access health services and will see their rights stripped away by fetal personhood statutes. Bei Bei Shuai is admirably resilient and positive and her story demonstrates how even women who have conformed to the mainstream can become victimized. But women who do not fit that profile, who might be undocumented immigrants, on public assistance, raised in nontraditional families, angry about the way American society has written them off, all deserve justice and dignity just as much. It’s a basic human right.

RJ 101 or How I’m Learning to Really Put it All Together

Shelley Halstead, LSRJ Summer Legal Intern

We interns here at the LSRJ national office spent the greater part of our first week drafting a memo on shackling. If you haven’t heard, prisons around the country continue to shackle pregnant and birthing women immediately before, after, and while they are giving birth. I knew this was happening but honestly, hadn’t made it a priority to acquaint myself with the ins-and-outs of it. With the onslaught of reproductive rights and services being attacked it is sometimes easier to fight on a front that is more familiar and more established. Basically, I wasn’t comfortable.

But one of the responses I received when sharing my research affirmed for me why we have to continue talking about the things that make us and others uncomfortable.  I was asked to not keep saying the word “shackling,” not because it was inaccurate (I suppose I could have used “restraints”), but similarly for me, it conjured up images of a not too distant past when black women were once chattel. And why shouldn’t it? The disproportionate numbers of black and brown women in prison continues to tell our story as a disenfranchised minority in this country. Fifty percent of incarcerated women are African-American yet make up thirteen percent of the female population in the US while two-thirds of incarcerated women are women of color.  It’s something you might suspect, but when confronted with the numbers, it’s rather disturbing.

If reproductive justice is truly what we’re after, not just choice, then this issue is one central to our path toward it. Until we address the social reality of inequality, (specifically, the inequality of opportunities that we have to control our reproductive destinies) then our realization of autonomy and self-determination will cease to materialize.

The great news is that more and more legislatures are restricting this practice. A lot of people across the political and social spectrum agree; shackling is barbaric. It is something we can stop. I’m not saying that our other challenges are something we can’t change, but clearly racism, sexism, and classism are systemic, otherwise we would have changed them by now. And while the reason there is such disproportionality in prison is systemic, the actual practice of shackling is symptomatic—an outward manifestation of those systems. The long-game is reproductive justice, and eliminating the practice of shackling is but one of the ways we will achieve it.

Reproductive Rights and Justice for the Migrant Community

Burke Bindbeutel, University of Missouri School of Law

Last week, at a trial in a federal courthouse, I got to observe the effects of immigration policy on the human body’s dignity. If it does nothing else, reproductive justice limits what our government can force upon our bodies–the sources of our most fundamental autonomy. The people I saw in court came north to live by their sweat, and their bodily presence on this side of the Rio Grande was enough to have them rounded up and caged. Although it was chilling to witness the deprivation, I was heartened by the response of the court to the human need.

A fellow Mizzou law student and I dispatched to the borderlands during our spring break. In Del Rio, Texas we caught an episode of the fast-paced human drama known as Operation Streamline. Nine out of eleven Border Patrol sectors along the U.S.-Mexico border have opted to criminally prosecute unlawful migrants. Instead of the consequence-free administrative process favored by California, where Mexican migrants are released at the border, Streamline ensures a criminal record for the migrants. If they attempt to return to the United States, their offense could land them two years in jail.

Sixty-two defendants pled guilty and were sentenced in less than an hour. Just as the blisteringly fast proceeding ended, the prisoners complained that they had not received clean clothes or showers during their five-day incarceration. Inadequate hygienic services probably did not outrage the prisoners. They had already endured a difficult journey, some of them from as far as El Salvador. If clandestine train-hopping across a war zone didn’t deter them, then they probably don’t mind going without soap. But it’s incumbent on the judicial system that removes people en masse to provide basic dignities, which are just as necessary due process of law.

I thought of our work with LSRJ when one of the two women being sentenced told the judge that she needed to tomar pastillas para mi embarazo. The girl couldn’t have weighed ninety pounds. She was sitting out in the public benches due to space constraints, and from where I was sitting I couldn’t see her shackles, so I thought she was there to watch, like I was. But she was a pregnant border-crosser who had politely asked for pills to relieve morning sickness. Pregnancy has always seemed an unimaginable servitude to me, and here was this woman, barely more than a girl, wading across the Rio Grande by moonlight and imagining a better home for her kid than war-torn Mexico.

Our constitution’s guarantee of birthright citizenship has been rebranded as a loophole for the offensively-coined “anchor babies.” Because people born on American soil are citizens regardless of their parents’ status, the anti-immigration lobby has detected an incentive for poor and pregnant people to decamp for their child’s birth.

It’s true that free trade policies combined with porous borders have encouraged mass migration. Perhaps if the United States were to curtail the opportunity for fresh arrivals to plant roots in our country, we could avoid having to deal with pregnant prisoners. Senator John Kyl advocates repeal of birthright citizenship. But I don’t think that would strike at the root of the problem of massive inequality in the border region. The border divides north from south, but it also divides rich and poor. Even if the U.S. won’t provide this woman a hospital bed, it ought to at least see that the basic needs of her body are attended to.

Concerns that so-called “aliens” have compromised hospital services are misplaced. In rural Texas, hospital care’s availability suffers from poor regulation and exploitative insurance companies. Blaming opportunists distracts from the systemic problems in our health system. It’s similar to those who blame the struggles of an unequal and financially strapped education system on a few freeloaders.

Reproductive justice will exist when people can “decide whether, when and how to have and parent children, with dignity, free from discrimination, coercion or violence.” It’s a sign of an unresponsive immigration policy when prospective mothers risk life and limb for a chance the chance to safely deliver. In Del Rio, the judge assured the prisoner that she would receive medical attention, but for the dozens more defendants on the next day’s Streamline docket, there are no guarantees.

Why the Fight Continues for Roe

Candace Gibson, University of Utah College of Law

*This post is part of a series written in support of Trust Women Week Silver Ribbon Campaign and the online virtual march from January 20-27. LSRJ is proud to partner with numerous orgs across the country – join the march by sending a message to your lawmakers today! And check back here throughout the week for more posts.

In May 2009, a 17-year-old girl in Naples, Utah, was pregnant.  She was charged with second-degree felony criminal solicitation to commit murder.  Why was she charged? She solicited a man to punch her in the stomach so that she would miscarry.  He accepted $150 from her, took her to the basement of his parent’s house, and kicked her in the stomach five times.  According to the young girl, who is now a young adult, she solicited the assault because her boyfriend threatened to break up with her if she did not terminate her pregnancy.  A juvenile court dismissed her case in 2009, but the Utah Supreme Court this past December reversed their decision.  They reasoned that an assault does not meet the statutory definition of abortion and now this young woman may face criminal penalties for this tragic incident in her life.

I don’t disagree with the Utah Supreme Court in saying that abortion as imagined by our state’s legislators is a medical procedure, although the term “medical” will most likely be co-opted by the Anti-Choice movement to exclude abortions achieved through pharmaceuticals (see the case of an Idaho woman who terminated her own pregnancy by ordering RU486 online and was charged  with a felony).  What I do disagree with is the numerous laws passed by state legislatures to restrict abortion services to the point that Roe v. Wade doesn’t make any impact in the lives of women who need it the most.  Remember what Justice Ginsburg said at the Aspen Institute in 2010, “If the court were to change its mind . . . the only women who would be truly affected are poor women. Because even at the time before Roe, women who wanted abortions could have a safe, legal abortion.”  The problem is, this great Justice has forgotten that most poor women still can’t have abortions because of the Hyde Amendment.

This young woman in Utah should have had the right to decide to be a parent, to give her born child up for adoption, or to have an abortion without emotional abuse from her boyfriend or having to deal with the heinous consequences and obstacles of laws that ultimately regulate abortions out of existence.  As the Guttmacher Institute said in their awesome video, “There will always be women who need abortions.”

Popcorn and Politics

Susy Prochazka, Thomas Jefferson School of Law

Thomas Jefferson LSRJ regularly hosts a “Dinner and a Movie” night once a month, where we indulge in pizza, nachos, and popcorn, watch RJ-related films, and have a faculty-led discussion where we delve into the issues raised in the film.  In the past, we have watched such heavy films as “If These Walls Could Talk,” “Losing Isaiah,” and “Vera Drake.”  In the spirit of Halloween, we are planning to show a “scary” RJ movie, showing the dire social consequences of the lack of access to education about contraceptives and STIs.

Last week, ten of us watched “Citizen Ruth,” a 1996 film that satirizes the conflict between the Pro-Choice and the Pro-Life camps. The film opens with Ruth getting arrested for huffing spray-paint in an alley.  Ruth is an addict, makes regular appearances in jail, and has been declared an unfit mother by the state four times over. Upon her arrest, Ruth learns that she is pregnant again; the judge threatens to charge Ruth with “felony fetal endangerment” unless Ruth obtains an abortion.  Ruth is unsure of what decision to make when faced with this puzzling offer – she is portrayed as a hapless drug addict, uneducated about the politics of the abortion debate, yet very quickly she gets thrust right in the middle. Ruth encounters Pro-Choice and Pro-Life individuals, inadvertently becoming the symbolic center of the struggle between the two groups, as they both vie for Ruth to act according to their particular beliefs.  Both sides attempt to sway Ruth with monetary incentives, both offering $15,000 to secure Ruth’s promise to either continue or terminate the pregnancy.

Ruth is learning about her right to freely govern her body, but she is simultaneously tempted by the money, which is more than she has ever seen. However, before a decision can be made, Ruth suffers a miscarriage. The movie ends shortly after, with Ruth securing $15,000 and sneaking away from oblivious protestors of both camps, who do not even notice that the subject of their vehement shouting has absconded the scene.

Following the movie, our faculty advisor started off a great discussion, asking us to think about what it means to truly believe in an individual’s right to parent, a central tenet to the RJ movement. In the film, the State has declared Ruth to be an unfit mother, thereby intervening in a woman’s right to raise her children. This presents a “slippery-slope” dilemma: at what point may the State intervene and tell a woman she may not have any more children? May the State order a woman to terminate her pregnancy when she has proven to be incapable of raising the children she already has? When has a woman reached such a point – what standards must be met?

We also discussed the paradox presented by the judge’s threat to charge Ruth with felony fetal endangerment, which he later offered to retract if Ruth obtained an abortion: why is endangering a fetus illegal when the potential harm is caused by illegal acts such as drug use, but is legal when the woman is exercising her right to have an abortion? Should there even be a legal or noticeable difference?

And what about the politics of it all? What are the moral implications of Pro-Choice and Anti-Choice members actively attempting to buy Ruth’s choice? Does Ruth lose her freedom to choose when money enters the picture? What does Ruth’s lack of education about the politics of the abortion debate and her right to choose say about the struggle between the two camps? What are the ramifications of this depiction of lack of education say about the movement? Is the debate limited only to the socially elite who can afford to participate? Do the uneducated and the poor have any say in the debate – or is it restricted to the stereotypical rich, white woman?

While we were not able to reach any clear, defining answers to these questions raised by the film, it was a great discussion that allowed everyone to express their opinions on relevant RJ issues. I highly recommend other chapters do such an event, as new and old members can comfortably debate and express themselves in a casual environment. It’s a fun and low-key event that is great for education, building cohesion and friendships between chapter members, and of course, there are nachos!

The Year I Became a Medicaid Wonk

This is the second in a series of reflection posts by our outgoing (and inaugural) class of Reproductive Justice Fellows. Click here for the first entry and visit the RJFP page for more information about the program.

Has it already been a year?  Although the bar exam seems like ages ago, it feels like I just moved to D.C. to start my LSRJ fellowship.  My placement was with the National Health Law Program (NHeLP), an organization that works to further access to quality health care for low-income individuals and underserved populations, primarily by providing legal expertise on Medicaid.

Looking back over the year, I am amazed at how much I learned.  When I started at NHeLP, I knew next to nothing about Medicaid.  There was so much to learn – and I was almost certain I would never be able to grasp the complexities in this area of law by the end of my fellowship.

Then, at around six months in, things began to click.  For the remainder of my fellowship, I actively contributed to policy strategy, and I finished research in almost half the time than when I started.  It was also around this time that I began feeling comfortable training and presenting on Medicaid coverage of reproductive health care.  Better yet, others at outside organizations began calling me for advice and input on issues around Medicaid and health care reform.

Now as my fellowship comes to an end and I prepare to transition into my new role as staff attorney, I am looking forward to helping the new LSRJ fellow learn the ropes.  I am incredibly grateful to LSRJ and am proud to have been part of the inaugural fellowship class.  Thank you LSRJ!

Davida Silverman (’10, CUNY School of Law)

2010-2011 RJ Fellow at the National Health Law Program