California Feminist Blogs

When I began my fellowship at the National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum (NAPAWF), I was thrilled to work for a progressive multi-issue organization whose focus was on API women and girls. Like many social justice advocates in law school, I had a hard time with the limited discussion of underlying factors which result in inequity that is glossed over during lectures in which we master the law of contracts, civil procedure, property, torts, and criminal procedure during our first year. I was so excited to find and join the Law Students for Reproductive Justice Chapter at my law school. Through the group, I found a space in which to create events and programs that fed my passion for social justice. I was also able to begin to connect the dots between legal theory and reality of communities.

I was thrilled to have the chance to continue that work in a professional capacity. What I soon discovered was that I was going to be living the idea that we become what we are seeking. At various point in my legal career, I wondered where the voices of women of color and low income people were, why they were not part of decision making that had a direct impact on their lives. During my fellowship year, I soon became consumed with increasing the voice and visibility of API women and girls. I did this through creating fact sheets, helping to mobilize our members to contact their representatives about various bills, working with coalitions on various pieces of legislation, participating in administrative advocacy around implementation of the affordable care act, and conducting legislative visits about the implications of various bills on API women and girls. I also had several moments of celebrity encounters for nerds as I got to be in the same space as the President, First Lady, Supreme Court Justices, advocates whose work I have admired, and members of Congress. I also feel like a big shot as I got to attend receptions, conferences, and meetings at the West Wing, Capitol and various congressional offices. I even had a moment of being tongue tied when I was in a meeting with Kalpen Modi.

My experience with public speaking was the biggest surprise of the year. I got to face my fear of public speaking pretty frequently. The challenge got heightened when I was speaking on topics that I knew the audience did not fully agree with me on and/or did not know much about; I felt like I was learning a dance in which I had to get people interested in the topic and then in agreement on the things we had in common. What began as an area in which I needed improvement turned into one of my strongest skills. I had become the voice I wanted to hear more of during my legal career. I also realized that transforming a perceived weakness into an actual strength was a way that I internalized NAPAWF’s work on increasing voice and visibility of API women and girls. During presentations, I inserted a bit of my personal story. During workshops on transforming a culture of son preference, I worked to make room for participants to share their story. The ways in which API women as a community and as individuals are seen and heard is when we speak our truth even when our voices shake and knots form in our stomach. Transformation does not wait for perfection; it needs action to be realized. Thank you LSRJ for the privilege of being part of the inaugural class and thank you funders for making it possible for me to have such an amazing year! As I go forward in my legal career, I know that the experiences I had at NAPAWF will make me a better advocate.

Jaspreet Chowdhary (’10 Seattle University School of Law)

2010-2011 RJ Fellow at the National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum

Last weekend I was grabbing drinks with a friend who used to work “in the movement” and she asked me, “So what’s going on with our reproductive rights? Are we doing anything about this?” As I started to explain the important work advocates are doing and my optimism about the fate of reproductive justice policy in the long-term, I found myself recounting many of the experiences I had during my fellowship year.

I was placed with the Women’s Health and Rights Program at the Center for American Progress (CAP). CAP is a think tank that develops new policy ideas, critiques policy that stems from conservative values, and challenges the media to cover the issues that truly matter and shape the national debate. The Women’s Health and Rights Program incorporates a reproductive justice framework into this work.

My fellowship year has been filled with invaluable opportunities for learning and growth thanks to the Director of the Women’s Health & Rights Program, Jessica Arons, and Senior Fellow Shira Saperstein, who are incredibly smart, quick, thoughtful, and creative (hence my aforementioned optimism).  But one of the most significant takeaways from my year at CAP is about the importance of collaboration.

It seems obvious, right? It is, especially since I’m not new to the DC machine. Yet CAP’s unique organizational structure – various teams and sub-teams divided by policy area, each with experts in the given field – gave me a lesson in how to strategically collaborate with seemingly un-usual suspects.

One example of this type of cross-cutting collaboration was on the issue of access to abortion for women in the military. Much has been done by reproductive rights and justice advocates to argue that servicewomen deserve coverage for the full range of reproductive health services. Congress gets it – the “women’s rights-ers” don’t like military health care. Perhaps we could use an additional messenger.

Enter Lawrence Korb, a Senior Fellow for CAP’s national security team and seasoned military expert.  Among other things, Korb served as Assistant Secretary of Defense during the Reagan Administration. He also thinks the military’s health care for servicewomen is inadequate. Thanks to this connection, the unlikely voice of a former Department of Defense official is speaking out about the DoD’s unfair reproductive health policy. (Read Korb’s op-ed here).

I was able to collaborate with many other teams at CAP on reproductive justice issues – not only broadening the available expertise, but also broadening the audience. Every little bit helps in this town. I am grateful to Jessica and Shira and LSRJ for showing me that although issues may appear siloed, there are opportunities for strategic collaborations!

Alex Walden (’10 University of San Francisco School of Law)

2010-2011 RJ Fellow at the Center for American Progress

This is the third in a series of reflection posts by our outgoing (and inaugural) class of Reproductive Justice Fellows. Click here and here for the first and second entries and visit the RJFP page for more information about the program.

Hard to believe an entire year has gone by!  It was just a year ago that I graduated law school, sat for the bar exam, and moved to the DC area.  As I finish my last full week at my host organization, the Asian & Pacific Islander American Health Forum (APIAHF), I find myself reflecting on the amazing year I’ve had in the policy world and the wonderful start to my career this provided.

As a fellow at APIAHF, I’ve been immersed in the world of health policy, working on a number of exciting issues, including the recently passed Affordable Care Act, or Health Care Reform.  Over the past year, I’ve been able to see firsthand how federal policy is made, including through legislative and administrative advocacy.  I’ve become friends with the Federal Register, a goldmine of information for all things federal, and learned the importance of making sure the voices of underserved communities are heard.

My time at APIAHF has been a whirlwind and has felt like policy boot camp.  I couldn’t have come to DC at a better time to work on health care issues, and I am excited for the newest LSRJ fellow to continue where I’ve left off.  I am indebted to LSRJ for funding this once in a lifetime experience, as well as my supervisor who gave me the support and strength to push myself each day.

Amina Farhadi (’10 UNC School of Law)

2010-2011 RJ Fellow at the Asian & Pacific Islander American Health Forum

This is the second in a series of reflection posts by our outgoing (and inaugural) class of Reproductive Justice Fellows. Click here for the first entry and visit the RJFP page for more information about the program.

Has it already been a year?  Although the bar exam seems like ages ago, it feels like I just moved to D.C. to start my LSRJ fellowship.  My placement was with the National Health Law Program (NHeLP), an organization that works to further access to quality health care for low-income individuals and underserved populations, primarily by providing legal expertise on Medicaid.

Looking back over the year, I am amazed at how much I learned.  When I started at NHeLP, I knew next to nothing about Medicaid.  There was so much to learn – and I was almost certain I would never be able to grasp the complexities in this area of law by the end of my fellowship.

Then, at around six months in, things began to click.  For the remainder of my fellowship, I actively contributed to policy strategy, and I finished research in almost half the time than when I started.  It was also around this time that I began feeling comfortable training and presenting on Medicaid coverage of reproductive health care.  Better yet, others at outside organizations began calling me for advice and input on issues around Medicaid and health care reform.

Now as my fellowship comes to an end and I prepare to transition into my new role as staff attorney, I am looking forward to helping the new LSRJ fellow learn the ropes.  I am incredibly grateful to LSRJ and am proud to have been part of the inaugural fellowship class.  Thank you LSRJ!

Davida Silverman (’10, CUNY School of Law)

2010-2011 RJ Fellow at the National Health Law Program

Thanks to my amazing host organization, the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health, my fellowship year has been amazing and I am sad it is ending so soon. On any given morning, I am throwing on a pair of heels and walking over to my first meeting. In that meeting, I sit around a conference table with ten other attorneys who know the games in DC; they know everyone in the administration and everyone in Congress. In this meeting, we create a plan for drafting official comments to Health and Human Services encouraging them to consider certain facts about women in the new health care reform. I add information about the health disparities that Latinas face.

Afterward, I grab the metro and pop up to Capitol Hill where I meet another group of activists in front of a Senators office. We gather the briefs we have been writing, confirm our agenda and then go in and introduce ourselves. We sit down with the Senator’s lead attorney to explain our issue. In this particular meeting, the Senator comes in after her vote on the Senate floor and sits down with us. She confirms that she does support this issue, appreciates the information we gathered, and explains that she is interested in speaking on the floor on behalf of women of color on this issue. Great! We let her know that we are prepared to help. Now, we have to go, we have two more meetings. Number two goes well, but the last is horrible and the legislative assistant is less than kind and barely lets us speak at all. There isn’t too much time to dwell on it. I’ve got to get back to the office to work on a memo that is due to my supervisor on yet another issue. It’s now 5:30pm and we have an invitation to see President Obama speak at a galla for immigrant rights, its time to thrown on a dress and make my way to the event. After waiting until the very end of the event to be sure to shake hands with the President, it is time to get home before it all starts again tomorrow.

This has been my life for the last year as an LSRJ Legal Fellow. It has been a non-stop whirl wind of advocacy work. I have had so many once-in-a-lifetime experiences in this one year that they are impossible to count. I have learned from the best about how to advocate for the most disadvantaged people in our communities, especially women and people of color. These skills, and the confidence that came with their practice, have shaped me into the advocate I have dreamed of being.

I am endlessly grateful to my supervisors who integrated me into even the most important pieces of the work the organization does, to the LSRJ staff who were always available for mentoring, and the funders who made this year possible.

Dani Hawkes (’10, University of Utah S.J. Quinney College of Law)

2010-2011 RJ Fellow at the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health

Listening to some Jamaican dancehall this morning, namely 1990s "dancehall queen" Patra.



This one features YoYo:



All of these videos are so siq!



The clothes! The dancing!



Enjoy.

I've been a little sad recently and haven't had much time to post, but I've been listening to Beat Happening a lot and remembered that I'm actually in love with Heather Lewis.



Mmmm.



And



I'm



officially



crying.

Before Beat Happening, Heather was a member of the Supreme Cool Beings. I could only find one track online:




Enjoy!

Good news!  San Francisco has become the latest city to propose regulating “crisis pregnancy centers.”  The Board of Supervisors recently introduced a bill that would prohibit fake abortion clinics (like Bay Area-based First Resort) from using deceptive advertising practices to scare or mislead pregnant women into foregoing abortion.  As I mentioned in a previous post, these clinics are particularly sneaky because they do not represent themselves as “pro-life.”  Instead, they purport to be medical clinics, and they sometimes even offer free medical services.  As a result, they create one more barrier to accessible abortion.

CPCs might be laughable—a fake abortion clinic really is a twisted idea!—if they weren’t so widespread and well-funded.  According to Legal Momentum, a women’s legal defense fund, there are between 2,300 and 3,500 CPCs in the U.S., as compared to…get ready for this…1,800 actual abortion clinics.  State and federal governments have placed innumerable funding restrictions on abortion clinics (or have attempted to de-fund them outright). Meanwhile, CPCs (most of which are not even clinics) receive abstinence-only federal and state funding.

Furthermore, city-wide legislation may not be the answer.  Legislation similar to SF’s passed in New York City, only to be enjoined by the federal district court on First Amendment grounds.  Unfortunately, CPCs really walk a fine line—what some people see as deceptive advertising, they see as constitutionally-protected free speech.

Which leads me to my newest idea—perhaps the way to go about this is to form non-profit “crisis pregnancy centers.” Bear with me here—what if we created a clinic, purported to be pro-life, and used CPC-style deceptive advertising? (their ads seem to favor pictures of happy pregnant women and little babies)  Then, we could apply for state and federal funding.  We could call ourselves “abstinence-only”—it’s not as if we would be an actual clinic providing actual contraceptive services.  Like one CPC in New York, lwe could even set ourselves up right across the street from a Planned Parenthood.  And then…here’s the sneaky part…when women come in, we could offer them non-judgmental, medically-accurate abortion information!  Ha ha ha!!

OK—I’ll need some funders on this one.  Anyone interested?

Seriously, for more information on CPCs, visit Legal Momentum and NARAL. For information on how to avoid visiting a CPC, check out the Feminist Women’s Health Center’s website.

Sharone Assa

Sara Taylor, former LSRJ national office intern, LSRJ resident blogger, ’11 graduate of the University of Michigan Law School, and new mother, wanted to share some of her hopes for her daughter.

Dearest Overlords,

Within days of bringing a little girl into “our” world, there are a few things I wish to discuss with you—some critiques and possibly some ground rules for going forward.  You seem to have convinced quite a few of us that we’ve come a long way, maybe far enough that we can stop “nagging” or else prove, as you said all along, that we’ll simply “never be happy.”  Knowing how sincere you are about this, I wish to point out (for my daughter’s sake, at least) some places where it’s possible you may have misunderstood what I want.

First of all, just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I automatically understand Roe; but, forgive me for pointing out the obvious, you’ll never understand it.  I know this because (a) you apparently can’t tell the difference between experiencing a wanted versus an unwanted pregnancy (hint: mine is wanted, the one in Roe was not); and, (b) you seem to think I need help realizing the implications of my choice.  It’s understandable, you have no frame of reference.  Not only do you believe “uterus” is a dirty word, but you also fail to grasp the subtext here:  I am the product of a society that consistently asks me to put my needs behind the needs of others.  Although you may ascribe some nobility to that, try instituting a military draft.  Let me make my own decisions, you are embarrassingly out of your element here.

Secondly, I asked for “equal access” and “equal pay for equal work.”  I think you sincerely believe I have these things.  After all, you gave me the vote, and I have a right of action for pay disparity.  You probably believe this is “equality” because you think we now have the “same” things, whereas a montage of reality snapshots since 1920 would confirm that we have been and remain miles apart.  A heap of things would be different if we had any substantial—rather than simply formal— access.  For starters, we’d likely have an equal rights amendment, respectful and functional rape laws, and enforceable domestic violence protection for all.

Furthermore, even when you do pay me the same, you won’t promote me.  At age 21, I asked to be promoted to the bartender position I wanted over the cocktail position I held.  You told me women make more money on “my side” of the bar.  And if I work even harder to “earn” that promotion, I’m not exactly getting “equal pay for equal work” anymore.  This doesn’t even consider my increased burden getting hired.  If I wore a wedding ring, you’d be worried I’d be starting a family soon.  If I was already pregnant and didn’t wear one, you’d be really worried (and, let’s face it, a bit judgmental).  You may not have intended to be worried, but you were, and I hope you come to realize that.

Finally, I am not the “same” as you, and I never claimed to be.  Why would I?  Being the “same” means calling affirmative action a preference instead of a remedy – it makes you feel comfortable denying me a leg up while ignoring that you cut me off at the knees.  Being the “same” means I get my own railroad car, just like you.  I am, however, loathe to call myself “different,” which, to you, seems to necessitate some gender-based value judgment.  If I am “different,” I cannot access rights reserved for the “similarly situated” without proving that my “difference” is either a generalization, off-topic, or worth protecting.  In a pluralistic society, I don’t understand the need for this dualism to govern our relationship.  Other than, of course, protecting the status quo and avoiding the hard work of change for the better.

My dream is that, when the time comes, my daughter doesn’t have to explain all this to you again.  I want to know that, everywhere she chooses to go, she is trusted and respected for who she is, where she comes from, and what she is capable of accomplishing.  When you’re ready, we can work on it together.

When I first heard about Law Students for Reproductive Justice (LSRJ), the strong ties between the national office and its campus chapters struck me. LSRJ is not just resume filler. The Easy-Events-in-an-Envelope and travel stipends for students to attend conferences are just two examples of dedication to cultivating active campus chapters. The annual Leadership Institute (LI) is another. Before the conference, I felt ill equipped to handle the challenges unique to doing reproductive justice work in the South. However, I now feel prepared and excited to help bring an LSRJ chapter to a conservative state.

The conference featured workshops on how to start a new chapter, how to talk to people about reproductive justice, how to diversify membership and how to leave a legacy through cultivating new leadership and institutional memory. With nearly one hundred attendees, the campuses represented were diverse. The schedule accounted for that with events ranging from how to address “social justice burn out” to how to organize on conservative campuses.

Social justice conversations on the coasts are sometimes dismissive of conservative states especially when people refer to residents as backward or beyond hope. But from Sabrina Andrus’ opening speech on moving past an “us versus them” mentality, it was clear that this would not happen at the LI. She asked us to be mindful of ways the word “crazy” can be alienating to both people with mental illnesses and to conference attendees who have family members with so-called “crazy” beliefs. Although it can be difficult to do this work in the South, there are amazing, dedicated law students working here, and I felt the LI took into account the needs of chapters from conservative states beautifully.

Some of the most helpful discussions occurred between the formal workshops as attendees shared experiences over pizza or coffee. Through these conversations, I learned that flexibility is key to effective organizing. Decisions about leadership structure and which issues to discuss need to differ with each law school, depending on the make up of the student body.  The friendships formed at the conference will continue online throughout the year and at regional LSRJ conferences. I am grateful for the opportunity the LI provided to learn, grow, and plan for the academic year with such inspiring attendees and speakers.

Mallory Carlberg