More Than A Magazine, A Movement
Last month, the Alabama State Supreme Court ruled that frozen embryos are children. The result: In vitro fertilization, or IVF, was paused for women across the state.
Can you imagine the frustration that those women must be feeling? I can.
In Congress, I will continue to fight so that no one else has to go through the devastation that Alabama women are facing right now.
Part memoir, part sociological study, (M)otherhood: On the Choices of Being a Woman is an intimate exploration of author Pragya Agarwal’s own experiences as a mother, first unexpectedly and then through the use of a surrogate. She brings forth voices, thoughts and realities often kept behind closed doors.
She highlights the ways in which women are discouraged from understanding and knowing our own bodies and the ways language around pregnancy and fertility remain gendered, biased and patriarchal.
During her historic confirmation hearings, Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson saved a “special moment” to address her two daughters directly: “Girls, I know it has not been easy as I have tried to navigate the challenges of juggling my career and motherhood. And I fully admit that I did not always get the balance right.”
Imagine being at the pinnacle of your career, writing a speech that would be heard by millions—but, at the same time, apologizing to your daughters, for whom you wished you’d done more. Like many other working moms, I could imagine just that. But, in many ways, what Jackson was expressing is unique to Black women.
In her debut, The Three Mothers, author Anna Maliaka Tubbs tells the stories of Berdis Baldwin, Alberta King, and Louise Little—the mothers of James Baldwin, Martin Luther King Jr., and Malcolm X respectively. Tubbs emphasizes that although these men are some of the most recognizable names in the Civil Rights Movement, the movement didn’t start with them.
Born into a Tamil, Catholic family, poet Divya Victor spent her childhood in India, her teen years in Singapore, and now lives and works in the United States. Her latest poetry collection, ‘Curb,’ is an unflinching exploration of the inequities that the South Asian community face in the United States.
In the middle of the night on April 2, 2020, buried in a 400-page state budget, a provision to make commercial surrogacy legal in New York was adopted despite a campaign against the move by leading advocates of women’s reproductive health and rights.
There is perhaps no better (or eerier) reminder of the insidious, underlying idea that women are destined to be mothers than the nomination of Amy Coney Barrett to fill RBG’s spot on the Supreme Court.
Barrett is not “the new face of feminism”; this is a repackaged misogyny guised behind a smiling mother—a mother that values this identity so much, she wants to create a world where giving birth is no longer a choice, but a legal mandate.
As the value of essential work is increasingly appreciated, parental leave needs to be expanded to all workers as the country rebuilds from this crisis.
Both Aimee Liu and I now find ourselves sheltering at home and woefully contemplating a social and commercial landscape that is forcing booksellers, publishers and authors to reinvent the very definition of a book launch.
The World Health Organization recently reported a global decline in the maternal mortality rate over the past 20 years—but pregnancy related deaths in the United States more than doubled across the same two decades. Why is motherhood such a precarious state in a prosperous country like ours?
