Happy 40th Anniversary Roe v. Wade!

As part of Blog for Choice Day sponsored by NARAL Pro-choice America and the anniversary of Roe v Wade, I’ve decided to be a part of their discussion this year:

“…we’re asking you to share your story about why you’re pro-choice.”

At first I was reluctant to use the words “pro-choice” to describe my views on reproductive rights. I was hesitant to be categorized within an extremely polarized and political issue that is so frequently associated with violent images and protestors. I myself am preferentially non-political in nature and usually don’t endorse a platform so passionately. As a young woman, however, all I knew was that my body was my own- and no one, least of all the state or the government, should have any compulsory power over my health.

I viewed it as a logical progression, if the state couldn’t force me to get an annual flu shot or my teeth cleaned, why should they decide what happens with my pregnancy? It’s fair to say that I didn’t understand the nuances of the debate until several years ago. Weren’t all those people opposing a women’s right to choose just religious fanatics?

Things changed when I discovered a surprising piece of news. Someone very close to me confided that she had gotten an abortion, and for many years I had no idea. Suddenly I felt, almost outside myself, a sense of horror bubbling up. It was an involuntary reaction that I was emotionally detached enough from to analyze a bit. If I was so pro-choice why did I have this vague sense of moral outrage? I suppose I had previously looked at abortions as a last resort, mostly unnecessary if only people were a little bit responsible. I received, and therefore supported, sex education and family planning. I still do. But until that moment I didn’t understand the more complicated feelings: the helplessness, the trapped and conflicted feelings, the fear of being judged.

People like to be morally unimpeachable, and too many people rush to support what they feel is right, without stopping to think about the other lives involved, and how what is right can differ for everyone.

Recently I also read the book (and watched the recent PBS documentary) Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn. It was an eye opening and surprisingly riveting read highlighting the dangers of limiting women’s rights, whether it is their right to an abortion, a marriage, a family, or running a business. The author makes the points that how a society treats women is proportional to how well they function, that women “hold up half the sky.” Countries that restrict women’s rights sacrifice substantial  gains in GDP and countless opportunities to climb out of poverty. Microfinance operations in the third world have consistently demonstrated how much more effective supporting women is then supporting men.

I’m pro-choice because I support women. I support organizations that support women. I support a women’s right to choose, whatever choice that may be. I think it’s dangerous to restrict women’s rights, and Roe v Wade went a long way to make sure women have options. Sure, not everyone agrees with how other people use their freedoms, which is why I feel grateful to live in a country that values freedom, and strives to protect it. I remain optimistic, and I believe that as long as those women are empowered, making their own decisions, doing what’s right for their health and/or their family’s health, then our communities, our nation, and our lives will be the better for it.

Awkward Encounters with Job In-security

As the unprecedented front of Hurricane Sandy draws near I find it harder and harder not to believe in climate change, and I’m constantly flabbergasted by those who still maintain that humans have nothing to do with our shifting global temperatures. Do you really need a PhD to understand that we have to make changes to our current treatment of the environment? Unfortunately, PhD’s are simultaneously distrusted, misunderstood, and held aloof by many people today. That outlook is bleak for me.

Firstly, everyone in Sandy’s path, stay safe and best of luck.

Now, on to my current gripe. There are certain times when I become very bothered by the long held notion that scientists, (particularly those with the three letters P-H-D attached to their names) are so intellectually removed and above the general populace. It’s with a certain reluctance that I tell people what I’m in graduate school for, and it’s generally because they recoil from me like I must be an elitist prick, often with a wide eyed facial expression followed by a physical  inclination of the head backward. Don’t get me wrong, some people really enjoy this shock-inducing attention. I’m just not one of them.

This reaction is instantly uncomfortable because it labels me as different, as part of some alternate group that suddenly doesn’t include that person I’m talking to. Everyone likes to fit in and feel included, and that is definitely not what that reaction evokes. Instantly I feel forced into a corner where I can either try to explain my research in a simultaneously non-technical yet non-patronizing way (silently arguing that no, it’s really not that out there), or look down at my shoes and mumble something inaudible. I usually choose the latter. It’s no wonder that scientists have such a reputation for being anti-social wallflower types with less than optimal party conversation skills.

This reactionary treatment from strangers has happened to me on two occasions in the last two weeks. The first, I was actually attempting not to be a wallflower at a graduate student reception and asked a girl I didn’t know (but  was introduced to by a friend) what was her graduate major. Okay, admittedly this might not have been the best opening line. She replied she was a Theater major and inquired after me. I said awesome, I was doing Genetics. Then came the feared wide eyes, step back, the exclamation of wow, she could never do that. Perhaps what she failed to realize was that while my profession may make her feel insecure, her reaction makes me feel just as insecure and self conscious. I decided to explain to her how I really felt about her reaction. I replied that theater, well I could never do that. For me who suffered from nearly debilitating stage fright in high school, her job was hard and impressive, takes work, and in my book, enriches people’s lives. That’s important! It’s just different, plain and simple. Unfortunately she seemed skeptical and soon removed herself, leaving me standing awkwardly unoccupied. I regretted volunteering my views comparing our two fields.

I had the opportunity to try a different tactic a week later, when I decided to set up in my favorite Peet’s Coffee shop with a pumpkin latte and work on some Biochemistry practice exams. Instantly the older gentleman at the table next to me took a sidelong look and asked if I was doing homework. “Well yes, attempting,” I replied, and turned back to my coffee and structures. I’m already annoyed and very obviously flashing my sparkly engagement ring as a leave-me-alone-I’m-not-single-message. Learning from my earlier experience with the theater graduate student, I try very hard not to engage him in conversation without being overtly rude. A long pause. I may just get away with drinking my coffee in peace. “It looks hard, what you’re doing,” he ventures, pretty much apropos of nothing. Then he derides himself by adding, “I could never do what you’re doing, I just don’t have the brain for it I guess.”  I’m baffled: why the incessant need to judge what other people do against what you personally do with your life? I glance over at his table, getting a peak at a well worn philosophical novel and scribbled pages of handwritten sheet music. I suppose he’s attempting to complement me or fishing for one himself, but I’m not in the mood. He was clearly writing his own very complicated musical piece, something I myself could never do. I told him, “I don’t think it’s different brains, it’s just about what you enjoy doing.” I wanted to get across that it’s what you like to do in life that should drive your profession, and just because I enjoy it doesn’t mean I’m an instant wiz.  Everyone likes different areas and different fields, none of which are better one than the other. He looked sheepishly down at his musical composition, muttered he guessed so, picked up his coffee and left, telling me to “enjoy” my homework. Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say either.

So it’s really hard for me to talk in detail about what I do to those who ask, and I haven’t quite figured out how. I’d rather emphasize my interests, talking about my concerns for human health and disease, how I had family members and mentors die of  cancer, influencing my career path. I think those are things people can relate to because it’s your experience not your intellect that becomes the driving force. People are very insecure about their intellects (myself included), but as the NY Times reports, smart is the norm, not the exception.

But this knee-jerk “I’m so impressed” reaction is one of those things people think they should do, as if a PhD somehow demands respect or acknowledgment. Unfortunately, not all PhD’s are created equally smart nor does “smarts” have to be a prerequisite for that PhD. I think the social isolation presents a real barrier to emerging and amateur scientists, and worse, creates an artificial barrier to the public’s understanding and acceptance of science broadly. If people constantly and immediately view science as obscure and incomprehensible, how will we make connections to the issues that we face every day that are directly related: healthcare, clean water, climate change?