The Consistent Culpability of Being in Possession of Female Reproductive Organs
“There is no shortage of sad stories when it comes to women and their reproductive lives.” Roxanne Gay, Bad Feminist
Micro Rage:
My right neck/shoulder, which for the second time seems to have worked itself into a position it could tolerate for a night of sleep and then spent days punishing me afterwards. The first time it freaked me out. This time, I’m cautiously optimistic it will fade. It’s still annoying. And uncomfortable.
Macro Rage:
Yesterday this NYT headline flashed across my phone screen, “With Hope and Fear, Women Turn to Weight-Loss Drugs Before Pregnancy.” It was the sub header that got me, “Excess weight may increase the risk of miscarriage and pregnancy complications. But little is known about the impact of drugs like Ozempic on a fetus.” The more I thought about it, the more pissed I got, until this morning when I found myself in a bubbling rage.
I don’t know if weight has anything to do with conception, healthy pregnancies, and/or births. Then again, neither do the doctors - “It’s not clear whether obesity directly causes those issues, or whether other lifestyle factors or health conditions, like diabetes, may play a role.” What I do know is it seems that once again women are on the hook for a perceived problem, finding the solution, and whatever unknown implications might come of that.
I will leave debating and dismantling the validity, or lack thereof, of the medical establishment blanketing problems on weight to those much more knowledgeable than I (try here and here for a start).
The more I pulled at the proverbial string, the more I realized it was not the implication of this sub header bothering me. (Though the utter lack of interest in women’s reproductive health makes me irate. We’ve been getting pregnant and having babies since this whole humanity thing started. There’s no excuse for not having more information.) What I could not get past was the way seemingly anything related to female reproductive health rapidly descends to faulting the person in possession of the uterus.
Pregnancy? Abortion? Infertility? Pregnancy Loss? Maternal mortality? What did you do? What did you not do? We are blamed and criminalized, and then we internalize that shame and are blamed for holding onto it.
We have robust and complex bodies and live in a robust and complex world, and there is a myriad of reasons why things happen or don’t. There are systems of oppression like white supremacy and ableism and sexism. Why don’t we examine the culpability of those things that we know are a problem?
It’s exhausting and maddening, and the only thing I have to offer is this gem by Samantha Bee.
A Small Thing
Queer Eye, Season 8. It’s like a balm for my soul.
A Big(ger) Thing
Tonight, I attended a Kemetic Yoga class. I have not attended a yoga class in years. At least four, though I think it has been longer than that. I was new to this practice, and I am incredibly grateful for the teacher and the space. On Sunday night, my husband asked what I could do to help mitigate mounting anxiety. I was sure there was nothing, and I told him as much. Then I had a moment this morning and this moment later this evening to be reminded that I need to breathe. Breath. It’s a seemingly small thing that is really big.
“We have robust and complex bodies and live in a robust and complex world, and there is a myriad of reasons why things happen or don’t.” Yes! Also, Queer Eye.