This blog post is part of the Strong Families Mama’s Day Our Way celebration. You can read more posts in the series on the Strong Families blog. Strong Families is a national initiative led by Forward Together. Our goal is to change the way people think, act and talk about families.

Laura Nixon, Law Students for Reproductive Justice Fellow at the National Center for Lesbian Rights (’10, CUNY School of Law).

Michelle Seyler, Guest Blogger, (’12, University of the District of Columbia, David A. Clarke School of Law)

There are times when I worry that the discussion about rape culture has been overplayed – by now, most of us know it exists and, for some, this seems to be enough. This awareness, however, is just the beginning, and we must continue the hard discussion in order to change society’s perspective.

When women are raped, the response they receive should be supportive – from friends, law enforcement, and society; but sadly this is not often the case. Instead, rape culture dominates and women and men alike often blame the victim for being raped by questioning what she was wearing or the actions she took or did not take.

To fill in my point, I would like to tell you a story of a friend of mine. She was raped by someone she knew, and was further traumatized by the impossibility of finding justice through our criminal system, and the reaction of others when she decided to speak the truth.

My friend’s story is all too common: she was out one evening with some law school colleagues and when she decided she wanted to leave, a “friend” said he was going to share a cab and take it to his apartment after it dropped her off. When they arrived at her home, he got out and said that it was too late to go all the way to his place; he promised to just sleep on her couch. Despite her better instincts and minutes of arguing, she relented and let him in. What happened next is nothing short of horrific. Instead of sleeping on the couch, he got into her bed and violated her in every way possible. She knew this man well enough to know that he had a temper –  one that she feared would cost her her life if she called the police that night, or even months later. If she pressed charges, she felt like she would have to leave her city. Immediately. In light of this, she chose not to report him because she wanted to survive.

She recently told her story anonymously on a blog where she hoped she would receive sensitivity and understanding. The post garnered more than 140 comments and the majority were supportive. However, it also elicited too many comments blaming her actions – saying that she shouldn’t have gotten into the cab in the first place, especially if she was aware of his propensity toward violence. As the comments flood in, she explained that it felt like a hundred bees stinging her all at one.  One in particular stood out to me: “I feel horrible about what happened, but I can’t do anything about it. You should have known better, and it’s your fault for all the women he rapes in the future.”

Seriously? Rape and sexual assault are unique to each survivor, and we must stop blaming the victim. Women, despite what they are wearing and regardless of their decisions, should feel safe to say “no” and trust that they will be heard. When they are not, we must place the blame squarely on that of the perpetrator.

I believe the critical comments on her post are representative of the way many in our country think about rape. But rape is not just a concept in need of debate – it is a crime committed against one in four women in this country, and it needs to be reframed. Some who read her story had the knee-jerk reaction of “blame the victim”- why did she get into the cab? Why did she let him in? Why didn’t she press charges if he is such a dangerous man?

The answers to these questions are personal and, I hope for most of you, self-evident. But as long as there are those out there who have the audacity to hold my friend responsible for the actions of her perpetrator, we have a lot of work to do.

Michelle Seyler (’12, University of the District of Columbia, David A. Clarke School of Law) is currently pursuing an LLM in International Human Rights from the University of London, University College London. She has an extensive background in journalism, academic writing, and advocacy for women’s rights.

Melissa Torres-Montoya, Guest Blogger, LSRJ Reproductive Justice Fellow (’11, University of California, Berkeley School of Law)

“Lay back,” “chill out,” “kick back,” these are terms that as a Californian I’m used to hearing, not “lean in.”  So when I was invited to a brunch to hear from Sheryl Sandburg, the COO of Facebook, who is encouraging women to “lean in,” I was curious to learn what she meant.  I attended the brunch with an open mind.  I was excited, but I was skeptical.  I was excited because I was looking forward to learning more about a woman who prompted the bad ass Time Magazine headline, “Don’t hate her because she’s successful; Facebook’s Sheryl Sandburg and her mission to reboot feminism.”  I was skeptical because I wondered how she, a corporate woman, was rebooting feminism by encouraging women to “lean in.”  Lean into what? The idea that a woman from corporate America is “rebooting feminism” and bringing “feminism” into the mainstream thrilled me.  Attending this event was a no brainer.

I am a recently graduated lawyer, a reproductive justice advocate, and a feminist.  I’ve noticed though that it appears as if the term “feminism” has been abandoned or viewed as antiquated.  A close friend of mine was shocked when recently only she and her professor self-identified as a feminist in a class of 50.  That’s shocking to me too and a little scary because it makes me wonder if with the name, the principles of feminism will also be shelved.  And now here is a powerful woman, Sheryl Sandburg, in corporate America talking about feminism – I think having female leaders talking about feminism is critical to keeping feminist principles alive and key to achieving feminist goals.

On the other hand, I went to the brunch feeling quite skeptical of Sandburg’s message of “lean in.”  Is she blaming women for not being aggressive enough?  Or is she encouraging women to be more aggressive instead of advocating that society transform to better support the advancements and success of everyone, inclusive of the differing characteristics they may have, in the workforce?  Despite these very valid concerns, I think it is worth listening to what she has to say, which includes the word feminism!

During the bunch, Sandburg explained that she was not trying to blame women for not leaning in.  Instead, she identified a problem we can all agree on – the scarcity of women in leadership positions.

I was surprised by how much I related to many of Sandberg’s anecdotes, both in childhood and as a young professional.  She shared a comical story from one of her weddings; her younger siblings toasted her by saying “Although, most will know us as her younger siblings, in reality we were her first employees.”  While it was a fun take on their interactions as kids, she explained that it also spoke to a societal issue – her tendency to organize children at play was viewed as bossy rather than possessing the talent of leadership.  She asked us, how many times do you hear people call little boys bossy?  We don’t.  I share this so-called “bossy trait” aka leadership with Sheryl Sandburg and many other women.  As a child, when organizing our play time, some friends benevolently called me the social director, while others called me “bossy.”

The fact that society still defines women and men differently for the same characteristics is a problem and Sandburg urged we, as a society, to  do a better job of furthering gender parity by helping women develop into leaders.  We should support leadership traits in young girls, encourage them to “lean in” by taking initiative and being “bossy or bold,” as well as encouraging men to possess such traits traditionally thought of as female, like being nurturing. This I can get down with. If she said “hey, women, it’s a man’s world, buck up and act like a man,” I’d have a problem with that.

I also think it’s a valid critique that her “lean in” catch phrase may only apply to a limited scope of privileged women.  I can think of many women in various circumstances who would not likely find Sandburg’s advice useful in overcoming their struggles.  I acknowledge the legitimacy of Sandburg’s point that the contrast between female academic achievement and the number of female CEOs at Fortune 500s highlights a wrong in our culture, but as a reproductive justice advocate I understand that the racial, gender, economic, political, and cultural oppression that women experience everyday in American cannot be waived away with a mere “lean in.”  Her concept applies to too few and oversimplifies the issue.

Sandburg also discussed the challenges that parents face when in leadership roles, which is an issue particularly relevant to me as a young professional who hopes to have children one day and as a reproductive justice advocate.  She shared her story of pursuing her career while also being a parent and handling all the responsibilities that come along with both.  This part of her conversation identified ways we need to shape the workforce to better support women as they pursue careers in corporate America, like supporting flexible work schedules so women are better able to parent their children.  Other countries, have policies that support a healthy balance between work and families.  Women face many challenges in attempting to balance work and family.

As a reproductive justice advocate, I work to ensure that all people have the ability to decide whether, when and how to have or parent a child with dignity.  We need to create this environment of dignity that supports working and parenting; and where women feel like they are doing both effectively.  A crucial step in achieving this is a national conversation that sparks collaboration, stimulates corporate shifts, and prompts legislative changes.  By no means is this “lean in” concept a fix for everything, but I do believe that the book and the media attention around it, is pushing the national conversation on these issues and this is a significant and important contribution to feminism and reproductive justice.

Josie Sustaire, Resident Blogger (’14, University of Oregon School of Law)

Suppose a woman chooses to have a child.  Suppose that she elects also to raise the child after it’s born.  You may be thinking, “Great.  Good for her.”  But suppose that the woman also happens to be addicted to drugs.  Are you still excited for her?  Is she any less suitable to invoke her rights?  What should be done?  Legislators in Alabama have answered these questions by prosecuting women who expose their children to drugs while pregnant.  The Alabama statute, Ala.Code 1975 § 26-15-3.2, was originally put on the books to protect children from exposure to meth labs.  However, the law has been expanded through litigation to encompass fetal exposure to drugs in utero, essentially offering legislator’s a backhanded way of circumventing a woman’s rights.

“Laws concerning a pregnant woman’s treatment of her fetus are not without precedent,” Ada Calhoun points out in her New York Times article on the subject.  “Since abortion was legalized in 1973,” she says, “hundreds of women across the country have been arrested for harming their fetuses, with charges ranging from child endangerment to first-degree murder.  Emma Ketteringham, the director of legal advocacy at the National Advocates for Pregnant Women, a New York-based reproductive-justice group, predicts a grim future if laws like Alabama’s stay on the books.  “Everyone talks about the personhood of the fetus,” she remarks, “but what’s really at stake is the personhood of women.  It starts with the use of an illegal drug, but what happens as a consequence of that precedent is that everything a woman does while she’s pregnant becomes subject to state regulation.”

And, as if to add insult to injury, medical research has shown that quitting cold turkey while pregnant can be fatal to the fetus.  So, that same hypothetical pregnant woman who abuses drugs, if she has access to adequate medical care, may be told by a medical professional that she should not quit but rather should maintain acceptable levels to avoid miscarriage.  Given the research, maintaining low levels of the drugs in order to save the fetus seems much safer.  BUT if the state that the woman lives in has a law like Alabama, she will still face criminal charges once the baby is born and traces of drugs are found in the baby’s system.

There must be something we can do about this.  We must find a way to reconcile the rights of women with the interests of the state in ensuring the health and safety of infants.  Why does a woman’s rights have to be sacrificed?  How can Alabama legislators believe that two wrongs can make a right?  What we can be sure of is that Alabama has no plans of backing off.  Over 60 women have been incarcerated for child endangerment and the legislature has submitted proposed amendments to the statute to explicitly apply to in utero exposure.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I love the babies.  I want what is best for them.  But how can locking their mother up for 10 years (mandatory sentence in Alabama is 10 years to life) because she is a drug user be the best option?  Sure she should not have used drugs while pregnant, but hindsight’s 20-20 and what’s done is done.  What can we offer her moving forward?  Drug treatment options seem like a much more beneficial option.  I would also encourage changing regulation of methadone clinics due to the risk of methadone exposure to fetuses.  There may not be an easy solution, but we certainly can’t go on like this.

Note:  The Guttmacher Institute has a state policy pdf that states “No state specifically criminalizes drug use during pregnancy,” and I have submitted a request for clarification and am currently awaiting their response.

Betty Yang, Guest Blogger (’15, Boston University School of Medicine, Medical Students for Choice)

This post is part of Blog for Choice 2013, launched by Boston Students for Sexual and Reproductive Justice (BSSRJ).

Also found at bostonreprojustice.blogspot.com

The term “pro-life” sounds like it should have a nice sentiment. It conjures up the pursuit of health and wellness, the prevention of disease, ambitions not unlike the themes of the Hippocratic Oath. As a future physician, though, the words “pro-life” evoke a very different, less wholesome feeling.

I feel scared. Scared for the women in the world who don’t have access to safe abortions and resort to alternative means. Scared for the girl who is shamed into a life she is not prepared for. And most personally, scared for what might happen to me or my family when I stand up for my beliefs and become an abortion provider. The history of violence against abortion providers and their communities is long and world-wide. There have been countless death threats, physical assaults, kidnappings, and even cold-blooded murders, all in the name of having a “right to life”. Do these abortion clinic security guards, receptionists, and physicians not also have a right to life? Are their futures worth any less than that of an embryo that has never “seen” the light of day?

Wanting all living things to live is a beautiful thought. And, according to my definition of life—which takes into consideration the life of a woman unprepared to care for, or to birth and subsequently give up a child, and the life of a doctor who stands up for a woman’s right to choose, and a definition which excludes bodies of life that cannot independently live without a supplemental blood, immune, and digestive system—I am of the same opinion. But to believe bombing, or suffocating, or shooting others based on their beliefs, all under the guise of an “Army of God” is where the title “pro-life” falls apart.

Thanks to Roe v. Wade, I am lawfully able to provide women a reproductive choice, but until the anti-abortion, “pro-life” culture of violence abates, I will not be able to do so without fearing for my life and the lives of those I love.

Gillian Stoddard Leatherberry, Guest Blogger (’15, Boston University School of Law - Law Students for Reproductive Justice)

This post is part of Blog for Choice, launched by Boston Students for Sexual and Reproductive Justice (BSSRJ).

Also found at bostonreprojustice.blogspot.com

You’ve probably heard about Savita. She recently died of septic shock in Ireland after physicians refused to perform life-saving surgery that may have saved Savita, but would have aborted her fetus. Many women world-wide, like Savita, aren’t lucky enough to have access to legal abortion. Roe means that Savita might have been saved if she had been in the United States when she was in need of life-saving surgery. 

To me, Roe means to me that some women have access to meaningful abortion rights, but this choice is not accessible to everyone , and it doesn’t come without judgment. Contemporary feminists and young women are known for not appreciating our freedom to use contraception and choose abortion. I appreciate it, but I am not satisfied with it alone. One in three women have an abortion in her lifetime. Why does shame and judgment still surround this medical procedure?

Before coming to law school, I volunteered as a clinic escort. The following examples are real scenarios that evidence the success and also the limits of Roe:

•  Walking into the family planning clinic, one clinic patron was approached by anti-choice protesters who asked her why she is giving up her baby and did she know she was killing an innocent life? The patron later told me that that she was outraged by the protesters because her teenage daughter was in the car – her teenage daughter whom the clinic patron had told she had cysts, not that she was at the clinic for an abortion procedure.  Roe means that this woman can have an abortion, but doesn’t mean that her daughter won’t face the same shame if she ever needs an abortion
  
• Many women drive long distances or from out of state to come into abortion clinics. This is probably because most counties in the United States have no access to a family planning clinic. Roe means that women are able to access an abortion symbolically, but not before women must take off work, find a car, and find money to drive to the clinic and have an abortion procedure.
• A young woman who was protesting outside the clinic one day yelled at me, “Don’t you know that having a baby is free?” Roe means that clinic patients can have abortions, but Roe cannot explain to this young woman why having a child and that child’s monetary, emotional and other costs are by no definition “free.”

While Roe legalizes abortion, full access to the procedure and its acceptance aren’t things that the Supreme Court decision created. On this 40^th anniversary of the Supreme Court decision, abortion rights supporters should be reminded that Roe is necessary to abortion rights, but not sufficient in creating choice for all women.

Daine Stevens, Guest Blogger (’14, UIC-College of Medicine - Medical Students for Choice)

This post is part of Blog for Choice 2013, launched by Boston Students for Sexual and Reproductive Justice (BSSRJ).

Also found at bostonreprojustice.blogspot.com

The 40^th anniversary of Roe vs. Wade is likely to bring as many protests as it brings celebrations. While American culture tends to be liberalizing in its attitudes toward civil rights, those of us in the pro-choice movement find ourselves forced to once again defend positions we thought we’d long ago settled. While the concept of reversing gains and re-instituting a ban on inter-racial marriages, for example, seems utterly absurd, we have seen serious attempts to make contraception more difficult to obtain, to ban abortion outright, or to make abortions de facto illegal, expensive, and professionally risky.

Yet despite the personal, legal, and professional challenges, we can never forget that vacating the rhetorical battleground only strengthens those who seek to ban a woman’s right to choose. Those who seek to end Roe too often resort to violence, threats of violence, and outright lies to advance their position. These threats can cow those who support a woman’s right to choose into silence and secrecy, clearing room for prominent conservatives to openly opine about which rapes should be considered “legitimate” and which ones we shouldn’t be horrified by. While we can take temporary comfort in the defeat of Mississippi’s “personhood amendment” and of such anti-choice blowhards as Todd Akin and Richard Mourdock, we should also be scared that the margins in Mississippi, Missouri, and Ohio weren’t even larger; there’s still much work to be done.

I fully admit that as a future physician I am a biased source. It is patently contrary to medical ethics to force a patient to accept greater physical risk to themselves against their will, and pregnancy is at least 14 times more dangerous than an abortion. Even in cases where another life is at stake—like an innocent child who needs a kidney transplant—the legal structure for forcing a person to submit to medical risk—to forcibly take an organ—simply does not exist. In those so-called compromise positions where exceptions graciously exist in cases of rape and incest, anti-choice advocates presuppose a right to force women to disclose personal details of their sex lives to a body which will then judge them by moral, rather than medical criteria. Nowhere else in medicine, whether in heart disease, COPD, or even sexually transmitted infections, do we ever ask whether a patient is worthy to make their own choices or if they somehow deserve the consequences of their behavior before we grant them medical autonomy.

Abortion can only stay safe, legal, and available as long as we are willing to stand up and defend choice from those who seek to curtail it. Civil rights have moved forward because individuals have met and interacted with those who were affected, and because more people openly defended their rights; pro-choice individuals must come out to their friends and families and stand proud. This year we are celebrating the demise of the back-alley and coat-hanger abortion. Forty years on, our mission is to ensure that we never allow it to go back.

Susan Yanow, Guest Blogger (Consultant to UCSF/ANSIRH, Ibis, Reproductive Health Access Project and Women on Waves/Women on Web, Board of NARAL ProChoice Massachusetts, Board of ACLU of Massachusetts, BSSRJ Advisor)