birth unites

Earlier, in the post called "Feminism and Women as Birthers," I talk about the tension between feminist and traditionalist views of women as birthers. The funny thing is, I have found that the "natural" birth movement is one place where feminists and traditionalists, liberal and conservative women, unite. The participants of my doula training workshop represented these two groups that are often considered polar opposites. The same goes for the participants of my childbirth education class. Maybe tension does exist, but I think the commonality is much more interesting--and much more overlooked.

In a study of an evangelical women's prayer group, Marie Griffith found that feminist and conservative Christian women actually have a lot in common; one shared belief is that "social and cultural tasks, traits, and affinities traditionally coded as 'female' or 'feminine' ought to be accorded greater respect and value than they have been."

In chapter 4 of Blessed Events, Klassen juxtaposes two of her informants. One spent her third birth at home, surrounded by sculptures of Goddesses and a women friends. She wanted to "honor and explore her developing fascination with feminist spirituality and empower herself in the process. The other gave birth at home with only her husband's help, because "she wanted to follow the commandments of her Christian God." Klassen makes the point that while their religious traditions and beliefs are very different, their religiously informed approach to childbirth is the same. They both see birth as "not simply a bodily process to undergo, but an experience to be chosen."

If you are interested in how this overlap manifests in Orthodox Judaism, specifically in the Chabad Lubavitch movement, check out this list of inspirational articles on pregnancy and birth. Some of the article titles are: "The Most Joyous Pain," "A Spiritual Delivery," "Midwives," "The Torah as a Process of Birth," and "The Power of the Mother." Almost all of the articles are written by women. All of them view birth as a spiritual experience that empowered them and brought them closer to God. Of course, Orthodox Judaism has been criticized for being patriarchal and sexist, and is often pitted against feminism. These articles make such a simplistic distinction much more nuanced.

In a journal article called "Sifting through Tradition: The Creation of Jewish Feminist Identities," Lynn Resnick Dufour identifies three types of Jewish feminists: inclusionists, transformationists, and reinterpretationists. I consider the authors of these Chabad articles reinterpretationists. Reinterpretationists are comfortable with practices that others might view as non-feminist or even sexist. They reinterpret traditional practices as in line with their feminist beliefs. Unlike inclusionists, they often view men and women's roles as distinct but equally important and valuable.

religious vs. spiritual

Try this experiment. Next time you read or listen to something related to childbirth--a movie, class, book--see how many times the word "spiritual" is used to describe the experience. Since my tutorial focuses on religion and childbirth, I have been listening for religious language throughout the doula certification process. Every time I hear someone's birth story, whether I'm at the Bradley class or watching a documentary, I notice that she uses the word "spiritual."

It seems important, and definitely worth unpacking. But the meaning isn't clear. The woman doesn't elaborate or explain what she means by spiritual. Furthermore, I hardly ever hear someone describe her birth experience as "religious." If I were conducting an ethnographic study, I would ask these women what they mean. There are a few things I think might characterize this spiritual experience. 1) The perception that it is extremely important or ultimate. 2) The perception that it is transformative; the experience changes the woman. 3) Going along with the first one, the perception that it is set apart and special, i.e. sacred. 4) The perception that the experience transcends the body or physical world.

It fascinates me that many women who identify as atheist or agnostic describe their birth experiences in these terms. I found a 2002 study called "'Being Religious' or 'Being Spiritual' in America: A Zero-Sum Proposition?" The study asks, is there a difference between being religious and being spiritual? Can you be one but not the other? What do religiousness and spirituality mean? In every survey the study cited, the majority of people said they were both religious and spiritual. But after that, the next biggest group were those who said they were spiritual, but not religious.

Overall, the study concluded that "being religious" and "being spiritual" were most often seen as distinct but interdependent concepts. Surprisingly, most religious people also tend to be the most spiritual people. This finding combats the notion that the United States is becoming more spiritual and less religious, or that religiousness and spirituality are mutually exclusive. There are a few common characteristics of those who describe themselves as spiritual but not religious. Some scholars call these people "seekers." Seekers tend to be agnostic, not attend church, and to be independent (from a religious group). They also tend to "experiment with New Age or Eastern practices."

That being said, the birthing women to whom I refer do not describe themselves as spiritual, but rather describe their births as spiritual. The study is still helpful, because it shows that most people associate religiousness with external institutions. It makes sense that women would call birth spiritual but not religious, if "religious" connotes church or some other organized structure. Now I understand why birth is not always considered religious, but I have yet to understand fully what it means for birth to be spiritual.

doula workshop

Last Friday and Saturday I attended a DONA birth doula workshop. It was amazing; I learned so much. If you ever want to take a doula workshop in Florida, let me know so I can put you in touch with this instructor. In other news, this Thursday is my last Bradley class. A longer update is coming soon!

Andrea Smith: beyond pro-life vs. pro-choice

Andrea Smith is a Cherokee scholar, feminist, and anti-violence activist. A lot of her academic work focuses on the intersections of Native studies, feminist theory, and theology. She co-founded INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence, the Boarding School Healing Project, and the Chicago chapter of Women of All Red Nations. Smith is brilliant; I strongly recommend all of her writings. She spoke at my school a few years ago on state violence against women of color, and I got to have lunch with her.

Anyway, today I read a paper she wrote in the National Women's Study Assocation (NWSA) Journal titled, "Beyond Pro-Choice Versus Pro-Life: Women of Color and Reproductive Justice." I have always been pro-choice. In high school, I volunteered at Planned Parenthood. This paper really opened my eyes and made me think more critically about the problems with both movements. She argues that ironically, the pro-choice and pro-life movements "are more similar than they are different." Both movements marginalize women of color, poor women, women with disabilities, and women from other marginalized communities.

On the side of the pro-life movement, she points out that even if one does believe that a fetus is a life, it doesn't necessarily follow that someone should be punishment for it. She proceeds to debunk the criminal justice system in the United States, also known as the prison industrial complex. Basically, since the prison system in the United States completely fails to address social problems (except to make them worse), it is actually counterproductive for someone who supports life to support the criminalization of abortion. And it is defintely counterproductive for women of color and other marginalized women, because the prison industrial complex is extremely racist.

Like I said, I considered myself pro-choice, so it's not like I need to be persuaded against aligning myself with the pro-life movement. But it was interesting to read a new argument instead of the usual ones that constantly get rehashed. Which reminds me of why this topic has everything to do with religion and childbirth. I am becoming a birth doula. Doulas are there to support whatever choices a mother makes. But how can we talk about birthing options and choices when not every woman has a choice? (See previous posts for more on that.) And the choice to not have a child is not a separate issue; that is also a reproductive choice. So social issues like this are certainly relevant to childbirth. Furthermore, the pro-life movement makes many religion-based claims. It's important to keep in mind that these sociopolitical issues are very tied up in people's religious and spiritual beliefs.

Her analysis of the pro-choice movement is what really surprised me. I had known that Margaret Sanger, the founder of Planned Parenthood, was involved in Eugenics, but I thought that Planned Parenthood and the pro-choice movement in general now made an effort to cut ties with Eugenics and to truly support women of marginalized communities. Smith argues that the pro-choice movement "often supports population control policies and the development of dangerous contraceptives that are generally targeted towards communities of color." She provides solid evidence that Planned Parenthood is invested in population control and sterilization in third-world countries.

Finally, back to the question of having true reproductive choice, she points out that "both positions do not question the capitalist system—they focus solely on the decision of whether or not a woman should have an abortion without addressing the economic, political, and social conditions that put women in this position in the first place." Definitely read this paper if you get a chance. You can find it here, but unfortunately access is restricted to those with a subscription to Project Muse. I can send a pdf to your e-mail address, though.

Demographics of Home Birth

In the second chapter of Blessed Events, “Cultural Contexts of Home Birth,” Klassen describes the demography of home birth in the United States, tells a brief history of childbirth practices in America, and frames home birth in the context of anthropological studies on the meanings of childbirth. The demographical sketch confirmed my observation that most home-birthing women are well-educated, middle-class, and white. They are more likely than hospital-birthing women to be married, and less likely to smoke or drink while pregnant.

But what surprised me is that home-birthing women cluster in two groups. To quote Klassen, who cites a 1995 study, “The first group is the ‘older or more formally educated mothers who are likely to prepare themselves prenatally for a home birth.’ The second is made up of ‘those who are younger or have less formal education for whom home birth may be a result of lack of planning or other manifestation of problems with health care access.’” Race plays a big role in the distinction as well. According to Klassen, African-American birth-birthers tend to have less formal education and poorer birth outcomes than other African-American women. They struggle for access to good quality health care. In situations where women birthing at home have to be transported to a hospital, white women are “much more likely to know that they have adequate insurance that will both pay for their hospital stay and grant them access to health care that they need, and they are much less likely to suffer from racism in the hospital environment.” Klassen reminds us that choice is a privilege that only some people have.

There are people working to make birthing options a right, not a privilege, for all women. Miriam Zoila Pérez, a self-proclaimed “radical doula,” keeps a blog that deals with issues like access, choice, birth activism, and reproductive rights. The Doula Project is an organization in New York City that “provides free compassionate care and emotional, physical, and informational support to people across the spectrum of pregnancy.” I have heard that many doulas are willing to charge clients on a sliding scale. I have one friend who is going to be a volunteer doula. Once I become certified and get more experience, I definitely hope to make my services accessible.

birth plans and videos

Last week I was looking forward to my second Bradley class. When I decided to take the course, I was excited to learn more about childbirth, but I still feared that a weekly two-hour class would just become one more thing on my to-do list. To give you an idea of how busy I am: this semester I’m working two part-time jobs, writing my senior thesis, taking three college courses, applying to a teaching assistantship in Spain, participating in Hillel activities, and serving as a representative for student government. Enough about me—the point is that I couldn’t wait to go to the Bradley class last Thursday night. Like I mentioned before, it feels really special to observe someone’s pregnancy. But on top of that, I think the class is so pleasant because the instructor, in keeping with the Bradley Method philosophy, makes it really relaxing and positive.

The topic of the class was birth plans. The instructor strongly recommends creating a birth plan—a plan that you give to everyone on your birth team. You outline all of your wishes for the birth to ensure that your team knows what you want. We looked at a bunch of different examples, which I’m sure you can also find online. Aside from the content of the plan itself, the main question to consider is: “would somebody actually read all of this?” You may want to use a bright-colored sheet of paper, limit the plan to a single sheet, use bullet points, put some of your medical information at the top so it looks like an official medical form, or separate the points into different categories. Here you can select options from a checklist to create your own birth plan.

In the beginning of the class, we watched a video of a really beautiful natural homebirth. I will find out the title so I can share it with you. [ETA: It was called Birth Day.] The video itself was beautifully done—it featured music, artsy camerawork, and good editing, unlike the ones I’ve seen online. The mother, who happened to be a midwife herself, spoke poetically about birth as a creative process. I can’t remember what exactly she said, but it made me realize that not only do we ascribe religious meanings to birth, but also we constantly use birth metaphors to talk about religion. Just as birth can be a religious experience, religion is often described as a birth experience. I realized that nothing she said was explicitly religious, but I read religion into it. Creating life—that’s a pretty literal definition of birth, but it conjures up associations with creation stories, innocence, conversion, spiritual rebirth, renewal, and oneness with the universe. In Orthodox Judaism, women are considered closer to God because we have the ability to create and sustain life.

feminism and women as birthers

In Chapter One of Blessed Events, “Procreation Stories,” Klassen lays out the purpose of her study, the issues at stake, and the questions she hopes to answer. She frames the study within the context of childbirth in North America, where nowadays medicalized hospital birth is ubiquitous. She focuses on women who chose to birth (an intentionally active verb) at home because these women all share a strong conviction that childbirth is a natural process and not a disease.

Klassen points to two tensions that guide her exploration of the religious meanings these women ascribe to childbirth: “one, tensions between feminist and traditionalist appraisals of the symbolic meaning of birth, and two the kinds of agency afforded to or denied women as they derive religious meanings from childbirth.” (pg. 4) These tensions underlie much of my academic interest in the topic of childbirth, and I want to keep them in mind throughout my own exploration. In light of these tensions, Klassen gets at the crux of childbirth as an issue that implicates women as gendered and religious beings. This is important:

“does this supreme valuing of women’s roles as birthers and nurturers define women solely as procreators and caretakers, or does it open up new realms of cultural and social power for women?”

Scholars of gender studies and religious studies, as well as religious women themselves, have been asking this same question in different ways for a long time. It is a constant struggle in Jewish feminist discourse and practice. One the one hand, there is the traditionalist view, which essentializes women’s roles and, you could say, reduces them to baby-making machines. On the other hand, there is the feminist view, which obliterates separate gender roles and runs the risk of not recognizing or valuing real differences. When gender is completely ignored, male is still normative. For example, Jewish feminists want to increase women’s participation in ritual practices. Some women think the solution is to let women do everything that men already do. Men wear kippot (skullcaps)? Then women should start wearing kippot, they say. Other feminists argue that this egalitarian method just encourages women to be more like men. What about women’s specific needs that aren’t met by these rituals? Instead, they argue, we should create special rituals for women. But what would these rituals look like? Wouldn’t they just reinscribe the gender roles we’re trying to escape? If they are women’s rituals, how are we defining “woman,” and who are we excluding by that definition?

When you extend this reasoning to the question Klassen posed about valuing women’s roles as birthers and nuturers, you can imagine how complicated the answer is. In fact, I don’t think there’s a definite answer, but I think that for people invested in childbirth and feminism, this constant tension exists. I am eager to discover the conclusion Klassen reaches.