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When feminist writer, Jessica Valenti had a baby it turned out to be a life-threatening experience for both her and her daughter. It was an immediate introduction to the ambivalence that is possible in motherhood. In fact, Valenti described her early months in motherhood as being – “(c)rippled by fear and post-traumatic stress.” It’s the kind of gut-wrenching description that stops a reader in her tracks. There’s a great potential to trivialise motherhood and in doing so we miss out on understanding both its bleakest moments and its soaringly romantic ones. I suspect ambivalence is a near universal experience for women but it’s so taboo we rarely fully identify it in parenting books. This book, more than anything else, is attempting to fully examine that ambivalence.

Why Have Kids?  is an interesting and brave approach to the conversation about parenthood because it frames the discussion in a political sphere. At one point the book quotes Katie Allison Granju and Jillian St. Charles as saying – “many women will tell you that becoming a mother was the most politically radicalizing experience of their lives”. Absolutely, and it is refreshing to see an author treat the subject with just this level of seriousness. Valenti covers a range of topics that deserve attention but which rarely get featured in books about parenthood like, the history of state control over women’s bodies and child-rearing practices; the infantalising pregnancy diet and the alcohol-abstinence messages; the incessant downplaying of the role of fathers; the success of non-nuclear families; the classism around how we view at-home mothers differently according to their wealth; the tensions in achieving work-and-family balance; and the predatory success behind the ‘parenting expert’ anxiety industry. Because this book is a commercial one about parenthood, rather than an academic book, these topics are probably ground-breaking for the genre.

The chapter, “Bad Mothers Go To Jail” is particularly thoughtful. Here, Valenti examines the phenomenon of child abandonment and neglect as the heartbreaking evidence it provides that motherhood is not nearly as serene and unconflicted as we are led to believe. It is a chapter like this that makes you appreciate a feminist like JessicaValenti taking on parenthood for her book. This chapter also highlights the sense of losing oneself that is common for women entering motherhood and one of the book’s strengths is the manner in which it normalises the desire in some women not to be parents. As Valenti goes on to argue, most women spend a great deal of their lives using contraception to avoid getting pregnant; so, it would seem strange that we stigmatise women for not wanting to ever be pregnant, given that it is a view we can all relate to ourselves for much of our lives. Why Have Kids? is not going to offend those readers who are ultimately deciding against parenthood, Valenti is clearly wanting to draw the non-parent and parent communities together and it’s an excellent ambition for a parenting book. This means the book doesn’t touch on any of the extreme individualism that is sometimes being directed towards mothers and children by elements of the childfree movement and which leads to a misogynistic judgementalism about mothers, but deciding that is beyond the scope of the book is reasonable.

Why Have Kids? is occasionally prone to some simplistic generalisations about attachment/natural parenting that can come across as divisive. For instance, elimination communication (EC) is labelled a “feminist’s worst nightmare”, staggered vaccination schedules are seen as helicopter parenting, and the backlash against French feminist, Elisabeth Badinter’s anti-breastfeeding book is described as “(h)ell hath no fury like La Lech League scorned”. Why Have Kids? is right to critically examine parenting trends, given their impact on women’s lives, but broad sweeping statements are likely to alienate some mothers. Valenti, a mother who breastfed initially but who chose formula-feeding when the breastfeeding became part of the trauma she was experiencing with her premature baby, is particularly concerned with the heavy-handedness of the breastfeeding message and it’s a very important story to be telling. But it is frustrating in a book like this one, that seeks to debunk myths, that scrutiny is not being applied with the same persistence to the misogynist barriers against breastfeeding. The ways in which public space, workplace practices and marital expectations are arranged is actively hostile to women trying to breastfeed and tend to their infants, and this is a serious feminist issue. I feel quite certain that Valenti gets all this; she selected quotes from an interview with me where I am making some of these arguments and she ultimately ends this particular chapter by acknowledging that “(p)arenting and caretaking are only as oppressive as our society makes them.” But still, the discussion around attachment parenting is uneven and could benefit from more nuance.

However, where Why Have Kids? gets it exactly right is where Valenti confronts the perfectionism and policing that happens in motherhood these days and some of this is coming from the attachment/natural parenting movement – “(i)t may be that American mothers are so desperate for power, recognition, and validation that we’d rather take on the burden of considering ourselves “expert moms” rather than change the circumstances that demand such an unreasonable role for us”. These will be uncomfortable truths for motherhood experts and websites that make their money by schooling us in exactly these pursuit, but, yes and yes to what Valenti is saying here.

As well as the attachment parenting chapter I also found myself somewhat conflicted when reading the chapter, “The Hardest Job in the World”, where Valenti justifiably questions what can be a patronising and exploitative message for women about the role of mothers. It is sexist that the boring, mundane tasks of mothering are sold to women as some kind of special task for which we are biologically designed and therefore not entitled to reward or status for doing them; but it is equally sexist to reduce all caring tasks to the trivial, the mindless and the twee. Mothering can be complicated and compelling and also, intellectually and emotionally satisfying. The fact that we describe it as involving problem-solving no more difficult than “kissing boo-boos” is telling. Given all this, what does it say when we characterise some women as falling “for the trap of believing that parenting is the most important job they’ll ever have”? This is a difficult balance to strike in feminism – between denigrating ‘women’s work’ and liberating women from domestic servitude, but it is one where white, middle-class feminist mothers, like myself and Valenti, risk universalising our experiences at the expense of disabled mothers, mothers of colour, trans parents, mothers in incarceration, poor mothers and other marginalised people who are still fighting for their mothering to be respected and for whom mothering can be a radical feat of activism and community building. The availability of high quality childcare is not the answer to every problem.

Why Have Kids? is probably at its strongest where it approaches tricky subjects but openly acknowledges its own bias. So, for instance, the chapter “Women Should Work” is buoyed by this rather lovely piece of self-reflection from Valenti after admitting that she thinks women should generally avoid being at-home parents (a view I share, in part): “I’m not sure how to reconcile these beliefs with my feeling that people’s life choices should be honored. I think there’s a way to discuss and think critically – and be critical – of parents’ choices without resorting to personal attacks and hyperbole. And I trust women and mothers to be able to have this conversation with the knowledge that we want to make parents’ lives better”. There is some great stuff in here on what the studies are really showing about long-term outcomes for mothers and children when mothers stay attached to the workforce and it refutes conservative propaganda. The chapter also includes the most interesting and humanising interview I’ve seen with Linda Hirshman in some time. In it, Hirshman notes the social impact of elite stay-at-home mothers on the rest of us in terms of raising unrealistic expectations  – “Setting aside for a moment the people who have to work, an important question is why do they do it? It’s like the really skinny models; it’s some bizarre norm of female accomplishment that no one can really achieve”. Hirshman has her blind spots (some of them large) but she makes solid points in support of women’s participation in the workforce – “If the rulers are male, they will make mistakes that benefit males” – and her interview reminded me that Hirshman is mostly motivated by a desire to improve the lot of mothers.

For all the doubts raised about the over-prioritising of parenthood in women’s lives in Why Have Kids?, Valenti arrives at a conclusion, not unlike a lot of us: “I, unfortunately, didn’t have a choice in deciding whether or not she would be the center of my life. She just was; her health and survival depended on it”. Making peace with this fact – that children are vulnerable little beings who will sometimes justify great sacrifices on our part and yet, somehow we must be allowed to remain intact as ourselves – is important feminist work. Personally, I would love to have seen more sharing of experiences from Valenti in Why Have Kids? because I eat that stuff up with a spoon, but I can see that a memoir is not the book Valenti set out to write here. You won’t agree with everything in this book no matter which direction of parenting you’re coming from, Valenti acknowledges that, but it is taking the mainstream conversation about parenting to a meatier level and it’s about time that happened. When the book ends with its wonderful conclusion about why we need to move away from individualism – because when one mother is punished, we are all punished – I am hoping all readers hear that.

In accordance with disclosure guidelines, please note that I was sent a copy of this book for review by the publisher and I am also quoted in the book. 

(Cross-posted at Hoyden About Town).

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The writer of The Mamafesto and I are watching True Blood together because everyone should watch TV with someone else and then talk it to death. We’re doing our best to occasionally apply some feminist analysis but this has been a bit of a dull season.

Sorry for the lag in getting this particular discussion up. With the value of hindsight you can watch us make lots of predictions for the final episode and get lots of it wrong. (NSFW image below).

Episode 1.

Episode 2.

Episode 3.

Episode 4.

Episode 5.

Episode 6.

Episode 7.

Episode 8.

Episode 9.

Episode 10.

And proceed no further if you don’t want spoilers for episode 11.

(more…)

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I have an article up at Essential Baby “In Defence of the Mothers You Hate”.

However, there’s one mother for whom we reserve a special place at the Table of Hatred, and she is the ‘militant mother’. A woman proud of her intervention-free birth makes us feel … what? Guilty, less-than, unwomanly, judged? One thing I know for sure: the militant mother makes us angry. She was recently derided by Mamamia’s Mia Freedman as a “birthzilla”, someone who cares about her birth more than her baby. Except Freedman set the benchmark curiously low for a militant mother; she was anyone with a birth plan. Consequently, a whole bunch of us were forced to consider ourselves “birthzillas” and wonder whether other militant mothers were similarly misunderstood.

The militant mother feels strongly about what happens to her body during birth – and to her baby’s – and she wants women to know about their options. She’s also readily marginalised by powerful institutions. In pro-choice circles we otherwise call the women fighting for rights like these ‘activists’. As a feminist, it concerns me that we’re so intolerant towards birth activism when abortion activism is core to our understanding of bodily autonomy. The activist mother’s beliefs are dismissed as inflexibility, but I’ve had just as many mothers recommend an epidural to me as I’ve had women recommend drug-free births, and they all did so with equal enthusiasm.

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Vagina

Conservative Republicans in Michigan made sure that everybody said ‘vagina’ yesterday.

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There is a lovely interview here with Dr Willie J. Parker, a Christian obstetrician in the USA who performs second trimester abortions, explaining his reasons for providing this essential women’s health service.

Q. Why did you change your outlook on abortion?

A. I wrestled with the morality of it. I grew up in the South and in fundamentalist Protestantism, I was taught that abortion is wrong.

Yet as I pursued my career as an OB/GYN, I saw the dilemmas that women found themselves in. And I could no longer weigh the life of a pre-viable or lethally flawed fetus equally with the life of the woman sitting before me.

In listening to a sermon by Dr. Martin Luther King, I came to a deeper understanding of my spirituality, which places a higher value on compassion. King said what made the good Samaritan “good” is that instead of focusing on would happen to him by stopping to help the traveler, he was more concerned about what would happen to the traveler if he didn’t stop to help.

I became more concerned about what would happen to these women if I, as an obstetrician, did not help them.

Q. You say women in their second trimester often have the most compelling need for an abortion. Why?

A. They lack access to health care or don’t have an understanding of their body changes, and often figure out later that they’re pregnant. Or they find out early enough that they’re pregnant, but their lack of access to health care or volatile, dysfunctional relationships delay seeking help.

The women most likely to be in those situations are trapped in poverty, often women of color or poor socioeconomic backgrounds, less education, and women and girls at the extremes of reproductive age. Women beyond the age where they think they can become pregnant, or young girls who have infrequent and irregular sexual activity and aren’t conscious of it.

Starting with those women as the ones you’d cut off is kind of ironic, because they have the most compelling reasons to consider abortion in the first place.

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In media reports on women’s issues—abortion, birth control, Planned Parenthood—men are quoted around five times more than women, a new study shows.

Among 35 major national print publications, including The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal, men had 81 percent of the quotes in stories about abortion, the research group said Thursday, while women had 12 percent, and organizations had 7 percent.

In stories about birth control, men scored 75 percent of the quotes, with women getting 19 percent and organizations getting 6 percent. Stories about Planned Parenthood had a similar ratio, with men getting 67 percent, women getting 26 percent, and organizations getting 7 percent.

Women fared a bit better in stories about women’s rights, getting 31 percent of the quotes compared with 52 percent for men and 17 percent for organizations.

From here at The Daily Beast. And my god, even on women’s rights men get quoted more than women.

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You must read this by Erin Solaro. I would argue with a couple of her points, here and there, particularly about whether we’re designed for birth or not, but essentially it’s a pretty devastating piece about the current state of politics in the USA and why a war on contraception and abortion is every bit a war on women. All women, whether you can or want to have children yourself, or not, and whether you have sex with men or not. It is a war on you that sees all women as second class citizens.

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Recently I had the great pleasure of interviewing the legendary midwife, Ina May Gaskin after she wrote the new and very well-received, Birth Matters: A Midwife’s Manifesta. The book is published by Seven Stories Press and is available here.

I have given birth twice in my life and I will come clean and admit that I am not one of nature’s ‘birth lovers’. My first baby was born in a birth centre and my second was born in a mainstream hospital. Both babies were vaginal births, the first a ‘no intervention style birth’ (but a long, painful, posterior labour) and the second birth an epidural birth. They were pretty successful births, all things considered – my babies were alive and well and I recovered quite quickly, but in both cases I had a lot of fear to overcome and I did not quite make it in my quest to put that fear aside. However, to this day I remain awestruck by the process of birth and my own incredible encounters with that.

Birth Matters is a profoundly encouraging book arguing a way forward for reconciling our modern lives with the act of birth. At its core, Birth Matters recognises that birthing is a feminist issue. In interviewing Ina May Gaskin I asked her all the difficult questions that had been bubbling around in my head since my own birth experiences and I am delighted to say that she was very generous, and not unexpectedly, quite fearless in taking my questions on…

blue milk: I saw your interview on a big feminist site recently and the discussion was quickly bogged down in the comments section by a very heated discussion along old lines around the debate about the obstetrics versus midwifery models of birth. Although many of us, as feminists, are natural allies to you, do you feel like feminism still doesn’t understand what you’re trying to do in some ways?

Ina May Gaskin: I feel this very strongly and have since the mid-1970s, when it became clear to me that becoming a mother was viewed by most prominent feminists as an “anti-feminist” course to take. Those who did become mothers were told that they could do it all, but their true needs were seen as detrimental to the branch of the women’s movement that was emphasizing the need for women to get out of the house and into the workplace.

I found it odd that the one creative act that no man could ever do, was put down and written about in disgusting terms by feminist writers such as Simone de Beauvoir and Shulamith Firestone (who gained far more attention from other feminists than those writers such as Barbara Katz Rothman and Gena Corea, who wrote cogently and intelligently about birth issues). I think this led de Beauvoir and Firestone, among others, into philosophical nonsense that led to a great deal of confusion and poor policy. This is probably one big reason that we have ‘one-size-fits-all’ birth care policy and virtually no regulation of assisted reproductive technologies in the US (no laws, no rules against the implantation of multiple embryos even though these involve great risks to the health of the mother).

blue milk: A big part of the modern birth experience for women is fear, it is the way we portray birth in film and on TV, it is the way we pitch public health messages to women about pregnancy, and it was certainly a big part of my experience of birth (both times) in spite of efforts on my part to overcome that by going to a birth centre instead of a mainstream hospital. Your philosophy, in many ways, is trying to redress that isn’t it? To overcome ‘fear’ as the dominant message for women about birth?

Ina May Gaskin: You’re right. The women I selected to be work as midwives with me and I were able to establish a birth culture in our small community that minimized fear and was, for at least a decade, isolated from the fear that could have been imported via television, films, and the worries coming from anxious relatives. We were successful enough in the beginning years of our practice that the evidence then spoke for itself.

This is why I like to send women to watch other mammals give birth—to see what it’s like when a female moves freely and feels what is happening, without being afraid. YouTube is good for this, especially for: “the dramatic struggle for life” (an elephant giving birth and reviving her baby who isn’t breathing in an animal park) and “chimp birth Attica zoo” for a creative way to save the perineum during crowning and birth.

blue milk: Many women my age are sceptical of anything seen as ‘spiritual’ – I think I was among them, and we were shocked to discover that we were capable of strong feelings about low intervention birth once we became pregnant because we were so certain that we were not hippies and that low intervention births are ‘hippy stuff’. Is the birth movement doing enough to reach women like me – Birth Matters is certainly impressively broad in its pitch – or should women like me ‘get over’ this aversion to spirituality (an aversion, which at its core is surely a little misogynist)?

Ina May Gaskin: I’ve long been aware of your generation’s aversion to ‘hippy stuff’, which is why I chose the bland-looking cover of Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. That was one of my ways of reaching out, and I tried to do that with language, too. I agree with you that a reflexive aversion to spirituality is misogynist. I was amazed that women who wanted to be strong were willing to so blindly trust a medical profession that had so thoroughly destroyed, discredited or marginalized midwives for no reason (in the US) other than to claim that field of activity for itself. US obstetricians in the early 20th century realized that they didn’t know much, because women preferred midwives. Because they wanted to know what midwives knew, they decided to discredit midwives and make them illegal so they could use poor women as teaching material.

We should also recognize the reality of how mysterious birth is and how many different ways it may be perceived. We need to understand the main historical developments of midwifery and medicine if we want to grasp how important it is to find some balance between midwifery and medicine as we go forward.

blue milk: It is difficult for any movement to be both the activists and the advocates – sometimes these goals will be in conflict. For instance, I think it is a problem for the pro-choice movement in feminism to properly acknowledge the feelings of the small minority of women for whom abortion is a traumatic or regretful decision, and I wonder if you think there has been a similar problem for midwives, as well?

Ina May Gaskin: I agree with your take on how the pro-choice movement carried on in a way that allowed a backlash to develop, and I have to say that I saw that coming. When it comes to midwives, though, I think our problems in understanding what has destroyed or weakened women’s confidence in their ability to give birth go much deeper than the pro-choice movement’s lack of acknowledgement that some women regret abortions they’ve had.

Dutch obstetrics from 18th century forward found a way to exist in balance with Dutch midwifery through the 20th century in a way that was an example to the world. It’s a shame that the US model of maternity care was the one that the rest of the industrialized world imitated instead of the Dutch model.

From my perspective, it’s pretty easy to see how much the rest of the world has imitated US obstetrics, apparently unaware of the ignorance of women’s bodies upon which this model of obstetric care was constructed. Australia, for instance, imitated the UK during the early 20th century, by keeping midwifery (but a midwifery that accepted the dominance of medicine). Midwives had a certain amount of autonomy until the move came to make every birth take place in hospital. When a few women rebelled during the 1970s against the lack of choice this meant for them and started Australia’s home birth movement, organized medicine’s attack on home birth practitioners was swift and savage, with the de-registration of Dr. John Stevenson, the family physician who stood behind some of those first home birth midwives. According to what I’ve been told by countless Australian moms and midwives is that it has gone pretty much downhill since then.

I don’t know enough about the history of birth in Australia to know if there was anything close to a 67% forceps rate during the 1950s or 1960s, as there was in the US. This was a product of how ignorant US obstetrics got after half a century of there being no midwives. That 67% forceps rate went with a c-section rate of 5%, by the way, but when the late 1970s brought along a new generation of women demanding midwives, and along with that, the electronic fetal monitor and the epidural, forceps were quickly outmoded and replaced by a suddenly increased tolerance for cesarean section.

What further confused the picture was that during this period, the US reported maternal death rates that were not very different from the levels reported by other countries. The trouble was that the US figures were and still are much less accurate, because the US has never had a real health care system with consistent methods of reporting and reviewing maternal deaths—something I wasn’t able to unearth until 1999.

When medicine rules or obliterates midwifery, it becomes difficult for women to understand the power that midwifery could have if it were once again a profession whose power equaled that of the obstetric profession.

blue milk: But in an individual birth experience, sometimes the politics of the birth debate, which is such high stakes now, means that a woman’s desires are potentially in competition with both the obstetrician’s and the midwife’s interests, would you agree or not?

Ina May Gaskin: To begin with, women may easily desire the impossible—that every baby can survive if we apply enough technology and expensive medication. Too many have been seduced into thinking this is true. Women have been infantilized to a great degree, another factor that hasn’t helped. We can’t count how many women fell for the line that their sex lives would be enhanced by having a cesarean instead of a vaginal birth on the grounds that the vagina through which a baby has passed has been stretched out and ruined. I just spoke this morning with an Israeli woman who had a c-section for her full gestation twins 9 years ago and still grieves about the loss of the body she once had. Her figure is beautiful—that’s not the problem. But lovemaking has been painful for her ever since the surgery, and no surgeon can tell her why or fix her. And she knows that her surgery wasn’t an emergency but more a product of her doctor’s discomfort with the possibility that her second twin might be breech.

It would be good if we could get women, midwives, and obstetricians all to agree that it is not good for midwives or obstetricians to lack the knowledge and skills that were once considered essential to both professions. Skills that are being lost already at a rapid rate include: the ability to diagnose a false pregnancy before a cesarean is performed, the ability to safely assist vaginal birth of breech babies or multiple gestation babies, and manual palpitation and pelvimetry. I could go on, but you get the idea.

blue milk: I love that you see fathers as the great untapped resource in the movement towards kinder, gentler births. Can you expand upon your thinking here?

Ina May Gaskin: Fathers really have a strong instinct to protect their partners during pregnancy and especially during labor. Lots of men have told me that my chapter on ‘sphincter law’ in the Guide to Childbirth is what helped them understand what helps and doesn’t help their partners during labor. It also helps them to know that women’s genitals have the spectacular ability to swell and expand temporarily during the birth process and then to go back to their formerly small size without being ruined, in similar fashion to what happens during a male erection. Knowing that it is the blood flow to the appropriate organs that is needed and that this can happen only when the laboring mother is not kept from getting into the good birth trance empowers her partner to help create the conditions that help her get there.

blue milk: For people who don’t understand why birth continues to be such a hot button issue, can you explain to them, in a nutshell, why it is important that women have choice about the way they birth and why so many people want to control that decision?

Ina May Gaskin: It was an enterprising US obstetrician in the early 19th century who got the idea that medical men could entirely take over maternity care from women if they just became fear merchants instead of caring physicians or scientists. Never mind producing any evidence, he said in many more words than I just used in paraphrasing him—just scare them. That’s easier and very effective. That was Dr. Hugh Hodge, and he was right. Now we have to recognize how much harm has come and spread globally from his selfish advice, and we can then start a world-wide movement to dispel this fear and reverse the damage that has been done. I’m excited about what we can do with this now that it has become possible to piece together the long story of how fear came to dominate birth in our species.

Once fear becomes the norm, it becomes possible for a lot of profit to be made from the materials, medicines, delivery systems, advertising, conferences, and so on that pertain to high-tech maternity care as the norm. More profit is made when the number of people involved in care is diminished (especially in the US, where health insurance is so expensive). This means that fear, ignorance, and greed are interwoven and tend to cycle to ever higher levels that have already reached madness in countries where caesarean rates exceed 50% (China, for instance). Midwifery knowledge can disappear in a remarkably short time (10-20 years), to the point that women can no longer imagine what it might be like to have a midwife. (I know this, because I was that woman when I was pregnant and giving birth to my first). This is how you get a mass of infantilized women who may put up with dangerous and uncomfortable practices for a couple of generations before they get enough gumption to put things right. This is what a growing number of us are working on now in the US!

Many thanks for this opportunity.

blue milk: Thank you for the very thought-provoking responses.

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I am very much interested in your own response to this interview as a reader, but please, let’s not get overly side-tracked by old arguments that have been more than thrashed out in other forums. I would really like the discussion to move on to some of the more interesting and challenging directions that Ina May Gaskin’s thoughts have taken us.

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Having discovered that Womanist Musings and Viva la Feminista are both Walking Dead fans and then there’s also me and one of my bestest and oldest feminist friends who are completely mad for zombies, I think we can safely say based on my sample of four – feminism/womanism and zombies, it’s a thing. Are you watching The Walking Dead? It has a lot of the stuff I like – zombies!, survivalist drama and then also some brilliantly eery apocalyptic landscapes. The zombie apocalypse theme brings up some interesting questions for the role of women. It’s the end of the world as we know it, will we be doing all the cooking and cleaning in our little band of human survivors or will we, men and women alike, share the load of domestic work and warrior work according to our skills and enthusiasm? Think carefully about this, because gender discrimination costs us significant output in the world right now and one can only image what that cost would be when the zombies try coming for us.

There is some interesting discussion happening about The Walking Dead and these questions over at Balancing Jane and here on Huffington Post and also, on Tom and Lorenzo. (Spoiler warnings for all those links, they’re variously progressed through the series further than Australian television). It is lovely to see so many fan discussion boards lighting up over the issue of better character development for the female characters in the show, too. There’s definitely some writing problems happening in The Walking Dead and that’s all being duly noted at those links – all the survivors in the show are annoying, in fact so much so that the love triangle going on has absolutely no sexual tension. And I normally have quite the weakness for shaved-head, shouty men but I’m not getting anything for Shane. Still, there’s zombies and you already know how I feel about zombies.

Finally, SPOILER, it is interesting to see how the topic of abortion is handled in season 2. If there was ever a time when you could justify abortion then surely the zombie apocalyse is it, but this is television so the ‘nobody ever gets an abortion on TV ever’ rule endures.

Cross-posted at Hoyden About Town.

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You will adore these political posters from Favianna Rodriguez over at Color Lines. Check them out.

Perfection.

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