Who cares about poor people?

Not the GOP. Nope, not at all. Being a poor person, of course I already knew the mouthpieces of the republican party think I’m lazy and uneducated. I know that for various reasons they think I should both stop having babies and stop aborting babies.

And also apparently the stupid Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation doesn't care about low-income women.  The Foundation pulled its funding from Planned Parenthood, which move was announced yesterday. The foundation, which has come under fire for various dealings, did so because Planned Parenthood is under a congressional investigation on account of some superamazing undercover work in which spies found PP employees to be doing their jobs! Advocating for women’s health! Scandalous, indeed. So the new vice pres of the Komen Foundation just happens to be a woman who ran for governor of Georgia partially on a platform of defunding PP. And the guidelines about not being able to fund an organization under congressional investigation? New.

The Susan G. Komen Foundation for the Cure does not care about poor women’s health. Hundreds of thousands of women will go without breast cancer screens now, because surprisingly, there aren’t a lot, or any in many areas, places that do free or cheap cancer screenings. Despite anti-choicers efforts to the contrary, us poor women haven’t been tossed under the hearse yet.

Planned Parenthood has already launched a Breast Health Emergency Fund to offset the untenable actions of the Komen Foundation. Led with a grant of $250,000 by the Amy and Lee Fikes Foundation, the fund will work immediately to allow PP to keep performing life-saving screening and care. “We are deeply alarmed that the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation appears to have succumbed to political pressure from a vocal minority,” Karl Eastlund, president and CEO of Planned Parenthood of Greater Washington and North Idaho, said.

Eastlund’s alarmed, but I bet he’s not surprised, and neither am I. More and more it’s obvious that the vocal minority is getting louder, and if you listen, this is what they’re saying to the rank and file: You don’t matter.

Look, I’m not going to ask you to donate to the Emergency Fund, because you’re probably as broke as I am, and I get annoyed with all the “Donate if you can” stuff, because I DO want to, but I can't. But I know that our pro-choice, pro-women pens are mightier than the swords of holier-than-thou-ness wielded by many enemies of folks in poverty. We may be poor, but we deserve, yes, ARE ENTITLED TO, healthcare. I’m grateful for those who remember that, like our Senator Patty Murray, like the Amy and Lee Fikes Foundation,and like Planned Parenthood.

Which Way Will WIC go?

I loved being on WIC from 2000-2005. I loved the cooking classes, free recipe books and never having to worry about food for my son. My ex-husband and I were very poor college students back then so knowing there would be cereal, milk and other food for our son in constant supply was a blessing indeed.

For me, WIC was pretty consistent. You went in about once a month, had your child weighed, measured and sometime a finger prick to check iron levels (a child can be on WIC until the age of 5 or until your income increases over poverty mark for the family size). Then, you got your folder of checks. These checks were good for specific items and varied in selection with the child’s age.

Once in a while they had me sign up for a class. One was on how to make macaroni and cheese from scratch (white base, add cheese, boil macaroni, put in oven) and another on the number of fruits and vegetables your child was to eat per day and how to make eating them fun and interesting (ants on a log!). Most classes came with government-printed recipe books and handouts. I thought it was fun, and honestly, a bit like junior high home-ec class, which I also liked quite a bit.

But I was surprised to hear that many women have had different experiences with WIC than I have. Reports of “pushy staff” and mundane visits have been ringing in my ears. Some even quit. I think it would take a lot for me to quit a free food program but when you hear that a mother “didn’t feel respected as a parent” that is definitely hard to take. I think that would push me over the edge.

WIC tried to pressure me into breastfeeding but in no way with a heavy hand. In the office, I succumbed to pressure to join a class just to learn about it but then cancelled. I was 19 and pregnant. All my brothers and sisters had been bottle-fed and I wanted my husband to be able to help. I worried about breastfeeding not working out. I could go on and on but I don’t want to make this a breastfeeding post. Suffice it to say, I just wasn’t ready to breastfeed. I was young, scared and had no frame of reference. I gave a sigh of relief when I got my first formula checks without hassle.

So, upon reading that WIC is actually trying to recruit low income families to join, I started to wonder why this would be needed. Isn’t the Right always saying we “poor people” want our free cheese? Guess we don’t if they are all up in our parenting business.

I hope WIC is taking surveys to see why people leave or refuse to join. WIC doesn’t seem to be as well-known as it used to be. Has it overstayed its welcome? I don’t think so. Perhaps there is pressure from higher up Government folks for WIC to produce impressive numbers to report back to those who elected to support and fund the program. I’ve learned in my past few months of grant writing that grantors (government or not) REALLY want to see what you do with THEIR money. Perhaps that’s it…WIC is pressuring parents to churn out super babies so they can keep their funding.

What’s your WIC story? I’d love to hear it.

Every Child a Wanted Child

Today is the 39^th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, and it’s Blog for Choice day.  I thought this was the appropriate time to share my second abortion story, because my second abortion didn’t involve complications or drawn-out denial or an abusive partner—it was a more typical experience, I think, and I think it’s just as important to share this story.   

After my first abortion, I didn’t go on birth control because I wasn’t seeing anyone and I didn’t see the point.  A couple of years later I started seeing someone, and became pregnant again (no condom.  Yes, stupid.)  I told the father and he told me he was supportive of whatever decision I made.  I didn’t hesitate.  It is still amazing to me that through the years, though I’ve been willing to sacrifice a lot of things for a man, and though I’ve avoided confrontation with others by being passive-aggressive, I’ve always, always been able to stand firm when it came to my reproductive choices.  It’s not even difficult for me. 

The father accompanied me and I went and got my abortion, by the same wonderful woman, Dr. Susan Wicklund.  And this time when the nurse asked me at my follow-up visit if I was interested in a birth control pill, I said yes. 

I don’t regret either of my abortions.  I couldn’t imagine being tied to either of those men in any way.  I grew up positive I didn’t want to have kids, which probably fueled my pro-choice slant from early on, and I only changed my mind when I met someone who somehow made me believe I could be a mother, who just took it for granted I could be a good mother, when I’d always seen myself as someone who’d be terrible at and who would also hate it.   

A Sex Note: Would You Want One?

The other night, on my pillow, I found a short tender letter written by my 17 year old daughter. In the letter, she got straight to the point and told me her and her boyfriend of nearly a year had had sex for the first time. She assured me they were responsible and safe. She said they hadn’t really planned for it to happen, but it just kinda’ happened. She said they were being responsible, and she just wanted me to know. I think they were both virgins (but it’s hard to be certain). I cried after I read the letter – first, because of her loss of innocence (She’s grown up too fast!), second, because she was choosing to keep me informed of her most intimate secrets (Holy smokes! I thought she semi-hated me most days!), and, third, because I worried I might be responsible for nudging along the process (!). Just the week before, I told her she needed to get out more and have some fun while she was young. She doesn’t go out much. She’s never in trouble. She plays the flute. Her grades are incredible. And I have been getting her birth control for the last three years – not because she’s been sexually active but because she has awful heavy periods (a curse that runs in the family).  I suggested them to make her less miserable. Did I give her a green light? Should I throw up a stop sign now?

During a phone call, I told my older sister about this endearing letter. Maybe I was bragging a little, fluffing up the idea that my daughter and I have a relationship which consists of some near-to freaky trust and honesty. Of course, for all I know I suppose my daughter could’ve had sex with her boyfriend months ago. When I was a horny teenybopper, either I told my mother absolutely nothing or I lied impulsively, sometimes even when I didn't need to. Given the note, however, I think it's safe to call the bottom line more important (i.e., The wonder of the fact that she told me anything at all.).

Maybe I wanted some big sisterly advice on what to do now. My sister is five years older than me, and seeing as we grew up with a working single mother, my sister did a lot to mother me herself. She’s survived one hardass life; she’s in a better place now than she’s ever been – finally divorced from an dumbass and affording her rent. But she still works 40+ hours a week as a temp when she deserves the rank of an admin. She’s a good mother of four, including two exhaustively moody teenage daughters, and has recently become a grandmother.

I told my sister, “My daughter told me her and her boyfriend had sex.”

My sister responded, “And she felt compelled to dump that information on you?”

I laughed off her response. She wasn’t meaning to be funny, in fact, she was feeling kinda' end-of-the-day sleepy/grouchy. Still, her response made me think. We parents of teenagers are ever-haunted by these concupiscent heebie jeebies. It's hard to watch our big-eyed babies become creatures of curves and angles driven by lust. I was a teenage mother, so I fear I may have overcorrected. I bring up the myths and truths of sex, the responsibilities of birthing people, maintaining self-confidence and control amidst gender stereotypes, etc., at least once a week or more, and I've been doing this since my daughter first budded boobies (age 9?). I've always believed the sex talk sure as hell doesn’t end with the Birds and Bees speech or with the official display of whatever illustrated version of the “Tell Me About My Body” book otherwise hiding on the shelf.

So I ask fellow parents, would you want a little informative letter on your pillow? Would you pry for it? Would you hide from it? How much could you bare to know and what would you do with that information if you got it dumped on you?