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Jeremy Bearer-Friend is a Visiting Fellow at Justice Now and a Leadership Academy Fellow with Young People for the American Way. An educator at heart, Jeremy has taught within public schools, private schools, home schools, after-school programs, museums, colleges and prisons.

Prisons are bad for everyone--not just for the people in cages within them, not just for the children who have lost their parents to them, or the social programs who have their budgets cut because of them.

Prisons distract us from the root causes of violence and ultimately exacerbate the deeply entrenched challenges of racism, sexism and transphobia facing our communities.

Over this past week, Justice Now posted on how prisons operate as a form of population control and gender oppression. In response to this rise of mass incarceration and the disturbing trend of “gender responsive� prison expansion, we have developed the following platform for gender justice:

1. Reduce imprisonment: Decarcerate by reducing the number of people in prison and closing prisons.

2. Support communities, not prisons: Strengthen families and communities by reducing barriers to family reunification and allocating resources towards community-run infrastructure.

3. Foster non-harmful responses to violence: Participate in critical dialogues and movement building to increase our communities’ and networks’ capacities to end all forms of violence.

We challenge you to reconsider the assumption that prisons make us safer, and invite you to consider new ways to address the root causes of violence. Together, we will work to imagine a world without prisons.

Allison Forth, former client coordinator for Justice Now, just finished her Masters in Social Work at Hunter College of Social Work. Allison hopes to help create accountable and sustainable community interventions and programs that are not a part of the criminal legal system.

California is taking a fast turn down the wrong path by building “gender-responsive� prisons. Instead of getting caught up in the urgency of the prison crisis by attempting to create “better� punishment, we should say no to “Female Rehabilitative Community Correctional Centers� on the state and county levels.

Some critical questions we need to ask ourselves include: is it ethical or even possible to create comprehensive and effective treatment in a prison setting? Will “gender-responsive� prison expansion help stop the suffering caused by imprisonment, or is it a band-aid solution that will result in only more lives caught up in the criminal legal system? Will this “gender responsive� prison expansion help solidify the fact that prison is one of the only places female-bodied people and trans women from communities of color and poor communities can access often neglectful and abusive treatment, whether it be healthcare, mental health services or substance abuse treatment?

“Gender-responsive� prison expansion is unethical: it expands a prison system that tears
people and their families’ lives apart. It masks the realities of continued imprisonment with words by calling these mini prisons “community-based facilities� or “group homes�.

Instead of pushing for more prisons, let’s invest in genuine resources for our communities. The challenge has been put forth: as social workers and social service providers, will we take part in prison expansion that will continue to harm individuals and families or help to build better communities?

Robin Levi, Human Rights Director at Justice Now , is a bi-racial Jewish woman and attorney who has been working to protect and promote the human rights of women worldwide, especially women of color in the United States. She tries, and usually fails, to balance this paid work with taking care of her two daughters (with some help from her husband) and doing unpaid work in her many communities.

At Justice Now we examine the way the California prison system destroys people’s reproductive capacity. First, long sentences can keep people in prison through their reproductive years. And second, abysmal health care has led a significant number of people to face infertility. For example, although people in women’s prisons are at high risk for cervical cancers, annual Pap smears are performed erratically and follow up is often nonexistent, thus permitting cancers to progress undiagnosed and unaddressed. We have been most shocked by the high number of people who have lost their reproductive capacity through the overly aggressive use of hysterectomies. Too often hysterectomies appear to be the first option for medical problems, such as fibroids, that may have more effective and less drastic cures. We also have spoken with many people who have had partial and full hysterectomies that were later deemed unnecessary. Almost all of the people receiving these questionable hysterectomies were Black and Brown, so we see these as a continuation of the historical forced sterilization of women of color.

We address this and other abuses through human rights. Although there are many international treaties and resolutions that define human rights, at Justice Now we believe that human rights are basically what you need to be fully human and that we must define human rights for ourselves. Thus we do human rights research in partnership with people inside women’s prisons – as they are best able to pinpoint what they most need, and to articulate the remedies to get there. After a training in formal human rights law and research tactics, we work with them to select which abuses they want to work on. They selected to work first on the right to family, especially Article 16 of the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (which is not ratified by the United States), which highlights the right to “decide freely and responsibly [] the number and spacing of their children.� Most recently, Justice Now worked with people inside and our allies at the Transgender, Gender Variant, Intersex Justice Project and WILD for Human Rights to author and bring our joint shadow report on the Convention on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination to Geneva.

Misty Rojo, age 32 and mother of four, believes, "you don't pity imprisoned women; instead, you question your own knowledge and belief in the society that has failed them and the system that has victimized them." Misty is a member of Justice Now’s Board of Directors.

When the Assignment Lieutenant wanted me to do vocational training in Cosmotology, I said "HELL NO!". Why me? Because I'm a petite 115lbs female? I wasn't a petite 115lbs female in danger from an abuser when the judge sentenced me to 12 years for a violent crime.

What I didn't know then was how fun and therapeutic welding is for me; I plan to make a career of it. Unfortunately, in a women's prison of 4,000 people, we have several vocational programs in cosmotology and office careers, while offering only one class in autobody, cabinetmaking or welding--vocations often referred to as "male oriented". So for many women like me who enjoy getting dirty, the opportunity doesn't arise. Even in Hobby Craft, we can knit to our hearts content (yuck), but can't woodwork or leather tool.

So many of us reentering the community can file your nails or knit you some booties, but can't get your car started or build your house.

Vanessa Huang is a queer Chinese-American organizer, writer, and artist born to immigrants from Taipei. Vanessa is the Campaign Director for Justice Now , and also organizes with Transforming Justice and the Bay Area chapter of INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence .

Our movements are at a turning point.

10 years have passed since Critical Resistance ’s founding gathering in 1998, when thousands of people converged in Berkeley to develop strategies to abolish the prison industrial complex. Back then, I was 14 years old and just beginning high school, unaware of this historic gathering taking place just across town.

As a queer female- and able-bodied kid of immigrants who came to the U.S. with papers, I’ve grown to understand my experiences along a spectrum of migration, recognizing the histories of coerced migration to this land connected with colonialism and slavery, and their legacies in ongoing U.S. confinement practices spanning ICE and the prison industrial complex more broadly. I’ve also grown to accept my role as a bridgebuilder for movements for collective liberation, and to understand that role stemming from both my experiences of not ever quite fitting in because of where my family’s from, my relationship with my body, how I present myself, and my sexuality – and from my ability and class privileges.

Since 1998, I’ve joined the prison industrial complex abolition movement at the tail end of conversations bringing the experiences of people locked in women’s prisons into public consciousness. Most recently, I’ve been able to help bring this organizing into conversation with emerging work centering transgender and gender non-conforming people targeted by the prison industrial complex. In this back-and-forth, the movement challenging the imprisonment of people in women’s prisons has shared lessons we’ve learned, i.e. how we’ve contributed to the rise of dangerous policy trends (“gender responsive� prison expansion) , and the movement challenging the imprisonment of transgender and gender non-conforming communities has significantly deepened our broader movements’ understandings and embodiment of gender justice alliances – across gender identities, gender presentations, and experiences of gender oppression.

This past weekend, Justice Now convened 17 key leaders engaged in work at the intersections of the reproductive justice and anti-population control, gender self-determination, prison industrial complex abolition, and anti-violence movements. We spent the weekend building groundwork toward a cross-movement effort to challenge “gender responsive� imprisonment as a form of reproductive and gender oppression – and to strengthen existing strategies to proactively reduce imprisonment; support communities, not prisons; and foster non-harmful responses to violence.

Right now – as my comrades and I shift gears into the final few months before CR10 : Critical Resistance’s 10th Anniversary Celebration and Strategy Session this fall in Oakland – I’m particularly present with the feeling of struggle, hope, vulnerability, and excitement that comes when we embrace and nurture our movements’ growing edges. Join us September 26-28!

Monica Wade was born and raised in Oakland, CA. She is now the Office Manager of Justice Now and is also the founder and director of Tender Care, transitional housing for those who need and want to be in a safe and healthy environment. She was incarcerated for 10 years of her life and knows what goes on behind prison walls and the torture and pain people go through.

Once a person is released, then what? What if they’ve been there 25 years? Then what? Children are all up and grown; rest of the family is dead or married. Where do they go? And how do they support themselves?

Once you’re incarcerated and you get out, things change. The people that you know have changed. The job fields have changed. So you’re dealing with all these changes all around, and you, personally, are changed.

You have to have a Plan A, Plan B and Plan C. You have to be able to take care of yourself. When you’re starting all over from scratch, that takes money. It costs to live.

And that’s where transitional housing comes in. I started Tender Care as support for people coming back to their community. “Community-based� jails and prisons are not the answer. The answer is to provide people with what they are lacking, whether it be a place to stay, a skill, or just a caring hand.
I’ve been around re-entry for over 40 years of my life. I can tell my clients, “I’ve been in your shoes before�. But we need more support for transitional housing that is community-run. All the programs that we offer at Tender Care are by organizations run by ex -felons that have made a difference in the community. We have our own solutions.

Michelle “Cookie� Concepcion works with Justice Now for the benefit of all prisoners by exposing Correction’s lies of discipline, security and rehabilitation with the truths of abuse, fear and indoctrination.

Wearing boxers makes women less female and more violent. Well that’s the perception by officers and staff at the Central California Women’s Facility (CCWF). I know this because I am an inmate at CCWF and have been harassed because of the type and sizes of the clothes I wear. I also prefer to wear boxers instead of panties. This is a rule violation. I have been verbally counseled, written up and charged money for possessing the less female, more violent boxers.

How does the size of my clothes or the type of underwear I have on change my character of affect my behavior? I have asked staff that question numerous times. The answer I receive is usually, “you are a female you should dress like one.� I promise, if allowed to wear boxers, I will not fall prey to their negative influence on my femaleness.

Lately a lot of time and money has been spent on mandatory “Gender Responsive� training for all the officers and staff. The objective of this training is to define differences between female and male inmates. The basic ideology is that females commit crimes because they are victims, whereas males are just bad and mean. This must be where they learned how dangerous it is for females to wear boxers.

To contact Cookie, email jeremy@jnow.org

I am very very excited this week to present our Voices of series for May featuring the amazing organization Justice Now. Justice Now is located in Oakland CA and works at the intersection of violence against women and incarceration and prison expansion. They are one of the amazing organizations that fights for prison abolition.

In their own words,

Our mission is to end violence against women and stop their imprisonment. We believe that prisons and policing are not making our communities safe and whole but that, in fact, the current system severely damages the people it imprisons and the communities most affected by it. We promote alternatives to policing and prisons and challenge the prison industrial complex in all its forms.

This weeks posts will blow your minds both from women inside the prison system to advocates working alongside them.

Thank you Justice Now for joining us in our Voices of series! Give em some extra love feministing fam!

Renee Morgan-Saks is a 24 year old native of Washington Heights, New York and a member of NOW-NYC. She is currently working at a women’s rights legal advocacy organization and plans to attend law school to study public interest law.

Don Imus is back on the air. Not that I need to remind you, but here’s a little recap of what lead to the Imus debacle:

IMUS: That's some rough girls from Rutgers. Man, they got tattoos and—
McGUIRK: Some hard-core hos...
IMUS: That's some nappy-headed hos there…. And the girls from Tennessee, they all look cute…
McGUIRK: A Spike Lee thing…
McGUIRK: The Jigaboos vs. the Wannabes — that movie that he had.

“That movie that he had� is School Daze. In the film, the Wannabees, like “the girls from Tennessee,� are considered good-looking because they are light-skinned with “good hair� (read: straight or wavy, most likely from being chemically processed). The Jigaboos, on the other hand, who have darker skin and natural hair (“nappy�), are considered less attractive.

Sara Kelley is an intern at NOW-NYC and is currently completing her bachelor’s degree in sociology and peace and justice studies.

Equal marriage is so hot right now. In the way of LGBTQQ issues, marriage is probably one of the only ones your average Joe or Josephine could pinpoint. Media won't stop covering it, politicians can't stop debating it. Now don't get me wrong, equal marriage is an extremely important issue but it's not the only LGBTQQ issue out there.

Flashback: It’s the summer after sophomore year, and I have finally gone through the arduous process of coming out. I naively breathe a sigh of relief as I pictured my new, easy life as a member of the lesbian community. Back at school I joined our gay/straight alliance. It was mainly a social club, and I was having fun until one of our members was threatened by a football player in her dorm. Claiming to be sent by God to kill gay people, he threatened to bring a knife to school to harm her and her friends. Our school was under-responsive; they moved the football player to a different dorm (next door!), but waited to do so until the following semester, so as not to "disturb him during finals."

I was incensed. Besides awakening in me an anger I did not know I possessed, the incident put me on the alert for LGBTQQ issues, especially at my school. I found that for most students, marriage wasn't the top issue. Rather, the attitudes and behaviors of our school community was a pressing issue. I find that very few students at my school are familiar with the words "heterosexist" or "unearned privilege." And somehow the word gay is now a synonym for stupid ("that's so gay"). These are small, everyday things that can have a BIG, everyday impact on the community.

Sonia Ossorio is the president of NOW-NYC, a position she has held since elected in 2004.

I know a woman from South America who spent her first night in the Big Apple in a brothel overlooking Roosevelt Avenue in Queens. With a timer at her side she “serviced� 19 men – a veritable United Nations parade of taxi drivers to restaurant workers who literally queued up for a turn to have 15 minute sex sessions with the women at this brothel.

If you never had a picture of what the low-budget, factory-style prostitution that makes up much of the local NYC sex industry, this is it – up close, uncomfortable and a mockery of sex and all it stands for – pleasure, sharing, sexual empowerment and women’s liberation.

At the beginning of each shift, the women are given a produce box top with two rolls of paper towels, a bottle of lube, alcohol and a baggie filled with unwrapped condoms. The condoms are prepped much like vegetables at restaurants before the rush hits. There are tips that go to the men who stand on the corners as dusk sets in and pass out business cards for the brothels and give directions to the houses where sex can be bought $30 for 15 minutes. The price went up this year from $25.

Maureen Shaw is the Chair of NOW-NYC’s Reproductive Rights Action Committee. She is currently pursuing her Master’s in Human Rights at Columbia University.

For years, Emergency Contraception, or Plan B, has been a hot topic of debate. Does it cause abortion? Should it be available by prescription only? Should minors have access to Plan B?

A quick run-down on Plan B will teach you that no, it does not induce abortion, but rather prevents pregnancy if taken within 72 hours of unprotected sex. And while I believe that it should be available to all women regardless of age, the FDA recently made Plan B available over the counter for women 18 years and older. And by “over the counter,� I mean dispensed by a pharmacist without a prescription.

While this is a step in the right direction, the price of Plan B is outrageous, particularly in New York City.

NOW-NYC’s Reproductive Rights Committee crisscrossed the five boroughs and found prices as high as $50 at some local pharmacies, and a study conducted by the New York City Council found the average price of Plan B at New York City pharmacies to be $41.84, which is higher than the price at which it was sold by prescription only.

Nearly 17 million women nationwide are in need of subsidized contraceptive services, and financial obstacles pose a real threat to low-income women’s ability to obtain Plan B. When the price of EC is out of reach for many girls and women, the hard-fought battle to make it accessible is defeated.

After receiving confirmation that retailers set the pricing of Plan B, NOW-NYC called on NYC pharmacies to lower their costs. We encourage everyone to do the same – the more voices that are united, the more potential for change!

Our Web site has letters available to download and send to your local NYC pharmacy, urging them to make Emergency Contraception more affordable and therefore more accessible for many women.

So please, join us, and take action against the unfair pricing of Plan B, which can have detrimental effects for women who can’t afford it at its current cost.

Bryn Taylor is a member of NOW-NYC’s Women and Girls in the Media Committee. She lives and works in New York as a freelance fashion writer and stylist.

With sex and violence running rampant throughout the entertainment industry, one might think (or hope) that regulations would become increasingly more strict as the entertainment becomes raunchier. Sadly, this is not the case. In fact, Hollywood’s guidelines are becoming more lenient by the minute, and everything seems up for interpretation.

A recent report by NOW-NYC’s Women and Girls in the Media Committee (WAGM) uncovered the startling fact that a number of films in circulation today fail to accurately warn against the sexual content they contain. The Motion Picture Association of America is in charge of assigning detailed and precise ratings to films. And they are not doing their job.

In response, WAGM spearheaded a campaign aimed at the MPAA and its failure to include warnings of rape and/or sexually aggressive behavior in movies where these abominable acts are clearly depicted. The committee compiled a list of 144 films released between January 1996 and March 2006 that had received either an R or NC-17 rating with mention of sexual content, but no specific mention of rape or sexually aggressive behavior (which we have defined as “any non-consensual sexual contact/behavior… that does not result in sexual penetration�). Of the 144 films screened, 31 depict rapes or attempted rapes, and 66 contain characters that are victims of sexually aggressive behavior.

The MPAA’s method of rating is subjective at best. There are no specific definitions as to what constitutes rape, or any type of sexual content. Without standards by which to judge, each film’s rating is prone to the whims and fancies of its raters. This leads to the inevitability of biased judgments and opinion-based decisions. Where one rater might find a scene to be sexually violent, another might judge it as harmless or even arousing.

In our last "Voices of..." series in 2007, NOW NYC will be contributing posts this week!

The National Organization for Women (NOW) is the nation's largest organization working to advance women's rights. The New York City chapter of NOW (NOW-NYC) is the largest chapter in the country and works to protect women's reproductive choices, end violence against women and eliminate sex discrimination in our schools, workplaces and the justice system in New York.

Thanks to Maureen Shaw for putting this all together!

Thank you to everyone (and Jessica and the ladies of Feministing particularly!) for reading our Voices of the Latina Institute series. The work that is being done on the ground and in the non-profit community rarely gets shared with the general public and we love any opportunity to talk about our work outside of conferences and grant proposals.

The work of the Latina Institute is only a small part of a broader movement for reproductive justice, just check out the Feministing blogroll for more of the awesome organizations doing this work. For change to happen in our lifetime, we all have to find ways to contribute to social justice movements, so pick an org and find a way to get involved.

To keep updated on what's going at the Latina Institute, check out our website for updates and join our listserve to receive our monthly e-newsletter. And to hear more from the staff and activists of the Latina Institute, check out our blog, Nuestra Vida, Nuestra Voz (Our Lives, Our Voice).

By Grace Kaissal, Summer Intern, National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health

“!Aye Mija! ¡Hablemos de eso otro día! ¡De eso no se hable! Cuando estes casada, okay?� These are the phrases and responses my friends and I have shared and laughed about when recounting the stories of our first family conversations about sex. I remember vividly when I was a scrawny ten year old pre-pubescent girl watching TV with my mother one evening and a “sex� scene came on in the movie we were watching. I remember getting so nervous and to my surprise, looking over to my mom and noticing she was really nervous as well. As she switched the channel she told me, “Hablare contigo acerca de eso cuando cumplas quince anos.� (“I’ll talk to you about this when you turn 15). Sure enough, by the time I turned 15, I was having my first experiences with the world of boys, crushes and dating. My mom never had a problem with that but she always told me, “Cuidate y no habras esas piernas.� (Take care of yourself and don’t open your legs). No talk of sex, love, or relationships not to mention birth control and condoms. My mother and I are very close and I confide in her about everything, but it still kills me to say that I never really had the “birds and the bees� conversation with her until recently, after my first year of college. Many things have happened since the last time I was sitting with her on that couch nervously.

Growing up as a first generation immigrant in the US, and attending a liberal arts college has really changed the way I view this aspect of my life. After watching the Sundance Film documentary Quinceañera with my mother this summer, we finally had the opportunity to talk explicitly about sex. Although we were both very uncomfortable, conversation flowed and I learned a lot about how she perceived sex, birth control, relationships and love. I also realized how different our worlds were, and how different her knowledge about STIs, contraception, and what happens during sex were from mine.

By Veronica Bayeti Flores, Research Assistant, National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health

We often think of immigration in the context of people leaving a “poor� country and going to a “rich� one. In some regards this is true – many immigrants do arrive at their new homes with the promise of a land filled with opportunity. But to think of immigration in terms of the movements of individuals is to obscure a large piece of the picture: the social and political forces that precipitate these movements and make countries “poor� or “rich� in the first place. As an immigrant who comes from a family of immigrants, it is clear to me that these forces have brought me, and countless other Latina immigrants, here today.

Jersey Garcia, Member of Miami International Latinas Organizing for Leadership and Advocacy (MI-LOLA)

Being an Afro-Latina and first generation Dominican American, I grew up knowing that many of the same reproductive justice issues affecting Latinas outside of the USA continue to plague their peers in the states. Poverty, lack of resources, violence, and no access to services or information are some of the issues that women continue to face here and abroad.

As the granddaughter of a poor, illiterate black woman living in a rural village in Dominican Republic, I know first hand what it is to not have choices or the resources to exercise our intrinsic right to sexual and reproductive health. My grandmother had 22 pregnancies, three miscarriages and two of her children did not reach the age of five. She never received prenatal care or contraceptives--and she never received information about her body or reproductive health.

My grandmother was a wise healer; she used plants and herbs to cure ailments from those who requested her help. But she did not know how to prevent pregnancy and was helpless under my grandfather’s sexual and emotional abuse. My mom and aunts eventually learned how to prevent pregnancies when they arrived in the US, but they still lacked access to reproductive health services, as well as resources and sex education to make informed choices. Some had unplanned pregnancies, and several, including my mom, had to undergo a hysterectomy at an early age.

At the end of the continuum are the granddaughters, who, because of to the lack of accurate sexual health education, at home or in school, were left with limited choices about their sexual and reproductive rights. Several of my cousins became pregnant as teenagers, and one almost died after attempting to self-induce an abortion by overdosing on misoprostol.

I joined the Peace Corps at the age of 23, and served as a Health Volunteer in rural Honduras. I provided sexual and reproductive health information to adolescents and adults. One day as I opened a sex education book to gather information for my first training, I finally learned why I got my period every month. I began to see the patterns of my life choices around reproductive health, as well as those made by my grandmother, mother, aunt, cousins, and the many women I met in Honduras. I realized in that moment that I needed to break the cycle and make sure that herstory did not repeat itself.

I am an educator and advocate for sexual and reproductive health rights because I want all our grandmothers, daughters, aunts, sisters, and cousins in the USA and abroad to live empowered lives, that are not limited by lack of access to resources, services or information, but that are full of unlimited potential

Jessica Gonzalez-Rojas, Director of Policy and Advocacy, National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health

I’ve heard it all: the misogynistic comments, the anti-immigrant rants, the accusations of being a ‘bleeding heart’ socialist with no pride in ‘America’. “If you hate this country so much, why don’t you go back?!� the detractors scream. “Baby-killer!�, “Spic!� “Liberal!� But still I march and still I fight.

This is a common experience for many activists. As a person committed to reproductive justice, an activist, a woman, a Latina, a daughter of an immigrant, a queer ally and a progressive individual, I find myself being constantly confronted by hate and fear. What’s most difficult is when the fear and distrust come from within our individual movements, further perpetuating divisions within the larger movement for social justice.

I once read a blogger who harshly asserted that immigrant rights is not an issue of concern to LGBT people of color. She claimed that queer activists should stick to fighting for their own rights before joining coalitions in support of immigrant rights. This ignores the entire population of queer immigrants who are denied the right to petition for the status of their partner because the government does not recognize their relationship as valid or legal. It also ignores the reality that many movements have a common enemy. As an ally, I marched on behalf of an immigrant rights organization in the St. Pat’s for All Parade in Queens, a parade centered on inclusion of LGBT people in reaction to their forced exclusion in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Manhattan. I am neither Irish, nor queer, but felt that it was important to participate in this parade. On the sidelines, conservatives and religious zealots displayed large signs, saying “Sodomy!� and “Stop Blaspheming our Lord!� Some could easily brush that off with “they are not talking about me,� but I know that those same people often stand on the sidelines at women’s marches with images of dead babies and anti-choice rhetoric “Stop Abortion Now!� and are also at the immigrant rights rallies with “Go back to your country!� and “Deport Illegal Aliens!� Unfortunately, many good-intentioned activists don’t get the connection and disjointed communities end up fighting their own often-parallel struggles.

By Ligia Rivera, Director of Community Mobilization Programs, National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health

“You are getting la operación? You’re going to be sterilized for the rest of your life?� I said to my friend Rosalía recently. “Yes, I will,� she replied. With those three simple words, my friend threw into question all the hours I’ve spent learning and training others on reproductive justice. What else could I have said to a single undocumented mother of two, working a low wage job? Rosalía, like many other immigrant women, came to this country to escape from extreme post-civil war violence, risking her life and the lives of her children by crossing the Rio Grande on an inner tube. After realizing how lucky she was to be living in one of the four US states that offer prenatal care to undocumented, uninsured women, she felt comforted when the medical staff at her local clinic sympathized with her daily struggles and encouraged her to get sterilized as a long term birth control option.

Is this just a new type of coercion meant to strip immigrant women of their reproductive freedom? While some white women still find it hard to convince their doctors to sterilize them, there is a long history of sterilization abuse against women of color. The sterilization of more than a third of women of child-bearing age in Puerto Rico in the 1940s along with the lawsuit against USC-Los Angeles County Medical Center in the 1970s for the coercive sterilization of low-income and primarily Spanish-speaking patients are both a testament to how women of color have experienced sterilization differently. Although significant progress has been made, including federal guidelines to regulate sterilization procedures, I wonder how much oversight still exists and to what extent our movement is aware of the continuing abuses and undercover coercive medical practices.

As I prepare to speak to my friend about the history of sterilization, abuses against women of color and the long-lasting effects of her decision, I examine my own motivations. Am I infringing upon my friend’s right to self-determination with my privileged Latina discourse? I think I am not. I am not only a Latina; I am a proud reproductive justice advocate for whom silence is not an option.

Karla Ayala, Office Administrator, National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health

As a young Latina who has had to face the realities and consequences of Human Papilloma Virus (HPV), I have been fortunate enough to be able to educate myself on the facts and to educate others through my work as a peer educator. While I have been lucky enough to possibly have changed someone’s life by providing them with this information, I always ask myself about the countless others left in the dark, especially those left behind due to a lack of communication as a result of a language barrier.

When my mom was diagnosed with cervical cancer in 1999, she had no idea what it was or how she developed it. Even scarier, 8 years later, she is just learning about HPV. You’d think some medical professional would have discussed this with her at some point, whether it was at the first sign of an abnormal Pap smear or sometime before her hysterectomy. But sadly, this wasn’t the case. My mother speaks primarily Spanish, and not only was an interpreter rarely provided for her, but when one was, they clearly did not take the time to discuss everything in depth.

My mother is not alone. At a recent workshop I hosted on HPV among young deaf women of color in NYC, more than half the women in the room had no idea what HPV was. Although they’d seen ads for the vaccine, they knew relatively little about it. Some thought HPV was actually herpes and most had no idea how prevalent it was among sexually active people. Clearly the message was not getting across to this group of women.

The media can infuse us with a million ads about HPV vaccines. But until health care providers and educators begin discussing HPV with women consistently, and start taking the time to break through to communities already at a disadvantage due to language barriers, HPV and cervical cancer will not simply disappear. Not speaking English, or not having access to comprehensive sexuality education should not automatically qualify you for a death sentence because no one took the time to reach out.

This fall, the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health will launch its Cuídate, �rmate, Edúcate: Latinas for Cervical Cancer Prevention campaign to continue the dialogue in the Latino community. For more information, visit www.latinainstitute.org.

By Silvia Henriquez, Executive Director, National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health

What is the first word that comes to mind when you hear the word abortion? For me it is relief. Deciding what was best for me at that time was a relief.

I know that not everyone shares my perspective or opinion. What I do know is that abortion and pregnancy stir up a variety of emotions, regardless of whether you consider yourself pro-choice or not. According to the Guttmacher Institute, ½ of pregnancies are unplanned—that means that many of us, at some point, have purchased a home pregnancy kit. For some women the little blue line is a blessing and for others it is a source of anxiety or fear. Regardless—we know that it is a life changing moment.

As a Latina who works in pursuit of reproductive justice, I am constantly searching for the perfect way to talk about abortion. I understand that our communities are somewhat conflicted on this issue. At the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health (NLIRH), we include abortion within a broader social justice framework. Abortion is just one of the many reproductive health and rights issues facing the Latina community. However, as the only national Latina organization advocating for abortion rights, we have a responsibility to not just protect and expand this right, but also foster dialogue and create a safe space to talk about abortion.

This week, the fantastic National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health is hosting our Voices of series and the gals at Feministing couldn't be more excited.

The Latina Institute's mission is "to ensure the fundamental human right to reproductive health for Latinas, their families and their communities through public education, policy advocacy, and community mobilization." You can find out more about their work here through their posts this week, or you can check out their website.

A big thanks to Miriam for putting this all together!

Another World is Possible Where Young Leaders Call the Shots

When you think of the US Social Forum, what things come to mind? Anti-globalization marches? Protestors against big business? Groups looking to infuse workers’ and human rights into international trade agreements? Calls for an end to imperialism? Anti-war activists? Maybe all of the above. However, we doubt, for many of you, reproductive justice issues ever come into play.

For far too long, the vision of an inclusive social justice movement has failed to conjure many connections with the basic reproductive health and rights movements in this country. Civil rights organizations have worked with labor rights movements. People’s organizations have worked with grassroots campaign organizers. Many of these collaborations have been around specific health and well-being issues, but frequently when the word “reproductive� is uttered, people draw lines in the sand and jump to one side or another.

Fortunately, as a social justice movement and a country, that is beginning to change. We’re pleased to say that a lot of that change has been initiated by new, younger leaders who not only care about the environment, but also sexual and gender identity issues. The newest generation of activists are working for labor rights, immigration reform, sustainable development, poverty, race and class divides, human rights, AND reproductive health.

Contributed by Eshanda Fennell, Pro-Choice Public Education Project

Why I Fight For Another World

I’m not a writer, like my ancestors I have a nostalgic belief in the oral tradition. While oral histories have always had a way of moving my spirit and providing a deeper level of understanding for my work, passion and commitment to social change, I know I cannot afford to romanticize or ignore the power of the written word. One lesson I have learned from those who have come before me is how the written word provides voice for many and opportunity for others to peek into a window of another’s view. This process of putting my thoughts into written words, has always been a journey—accordingly, my involvement in the movement has been just the same, a journey!

I like to describe my journey as starting in my mother’s womb… at birth and in the early years of my existence. You see, my mother is natural organizer! From a very early age I can recall how eager and full of grace my mother was with introducing herself to newcomers. She never missed the opportunity to learn a new face and was always busy figuring out ways to get people involved in growing community. Naturally, I learned a lot through watching my mother in action, even to this day, I find myself taking notes and attempting to model her selfless giving and belief in the betterment of humanity.

Like my mother and all the women of my family that have come before me, I enter this movement not as a feminist, and with very little thrill or frill of creating a name for myself. I enter this movement because of a little voice deep inside reminds me that “we can do better!� You see, feminism for my mother, grandmother and their mothers was a way of life and it was required for survival. Growing up in a single-parent household, you listened, watched and learned to do what needed to be done while the world before you - your home - was presented as a place of peace, love, and kindness. It is because of that world, the loving world my mother raised me in I know another world is possible!

Contributed by Maria Nakae, Asian Communities for Reproductive Justice

Reproductive Justice: A Vision of Another World

A new movement is gaining momentum and changing the way that we view our world, think about our lives and take action for change. It is a movement that is working toward a vision where all people have the economic, social, and political power and resources to make healthy decisions about our bodies, sexuality, and reproduction for ourselves, our families, and our communities in all areas of our lives.

What is so unique about the Reproductive Justice Movement that makes it so powerful and vibrant? It addresses our selves comprehensively, rather than singling out parts of our bodies and our lives. It pushes for an understanding of how reproductive oppression exists in all aspects of our lives – at work, at school, at home, and on the streets. It strives for the self-determination of those who are most impacted to be part of the solution and create change in their communities. And it recognizes that by working together to fight for the needs of all of our communities, we are much stronger and more effective than working on our issues separately.

By placing our reproductive health and rights within a social justice framework, the Reproductive Justice Movement offers an authentic way for us to understand how reproductive oppression – the control and exploitation of our bodies, sexuality, and reproduction – is a result of intersections of multiple oppressions based on race, class, gender, sexuality, ability, age and immigration status, and is inherently connected to the struggle for social justice and human rights.

At Asian Communities for Reproductive Justice (ACRJ), we believe in the centrality of organizing as a way for those who are most impacted by reproductive oppression to become the active agents of change in their lives and leaders in the movement, by directly challenging the power structures that try to control us. We also recognize that the issues we fight for intersect with a range of social justice issues such as environmental justice, immigrant rights, LBGTQ liberation, worker’s rights, and educational justice, and that it is essential to build alliances across social justice movements.

Contributed by Aimee Thorne-Thomsen, Pro-Choice Public Education Project

When people ask me what I do, I usually tell them I am a reproductive justice activist. When they inevitably ask me, “What’s that?� I tell them I am fighting to change the world. I work to lift the voices of those who have been silenced and to break down the walls that keep communities apart and isolated. For too long, social movements have focused on their own narrow interests, whether it be the environment, the War in Iraq, safer work conditions, or access to abortion. And while we have made great strides as separate movements, our true strength lies in working together.

The United States Social Forum (USSF) was an opportunity to do just that. Coming together under the banner of “Another World Is Possible� the USSF engaged activists from around the country to share information, strategies, and tactics in the struggle against injustice. Let me be clear: the USSF is not a conference. It is a social movement that creates a space for activists, organizers, non-governmental organizations, workers and other allies to explore opportunities to challenge the devastating effects of globalization, imperialism, militarism, racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, etc. through workshops, trainings, conversations, rallies, cultural work and other events.

As thousands of participants demonstrated, the USSF presented a critical opportunity for activists to build bridges between our movements. Those of us who fight for reproductive justice are working actively to center those issues within a broader, global, social justice movement, and the USSF is an important link in that fight. The USSF was an opportunity to share strategies and resources with colleagues from around the country and build solidarity. To that end, we created a new activist tool, the Reproductive Justice Briefing Book, as a way to educate allies about the connections between social and reproductive justice issues.

Another world is possible, but we can’t do it alone. By linking reproductive justice to other social justice movements, we can lift all of our voices to change the world.

Aimée Thorne-Thomsen serves as Executive Director of the Pro-Choice Public Education Project, where she focuses on creating spaces for and elevating the voices of young women in the reproductive justice movement.

A big thanks to the fabulous Aimee Thorne-Thomsen, of the Pro-Choice Public Education Project, for coordinating Feministing's second Voices of... campaign. Aimee is bringing together voices from the US Social Forum this week--so be on the look out for some great posts!

Poetry found a.m. wai on April 22, 2006. “Worthy� was her first inspired poem. A year later, her voice continues speaking truth on race, identity, love, and relationships.

EDITOR'S NOTE: This is the last post in this month's Voices of... series. We ran out of space last week (which is a great thing!) so we held this post over till today. Next month you can look forward to Voices of the U.S. Social Forum. Thanks again to Priscilla and the National Asian Pacific American Women's Forum for organizing this!

Friday Night Dinner

For so long
I kept trying to get
invited to your
Friday night dinner

I would
peep through
the window
gaze at the
fine china
salivate over the
3 course meal

Asking myself
what do I need to do to get in?

Every Friday night
I would stop by
wondering what
haute cuisine
would be served
who the guest
of the week
would be

For a long time
it was never
anyone I knew

I remained
still mesmerized
week after week
like watching an opera
for the very first time
from the standing room
only and miss my
Friday night dinner

Lisa Fu is the Western Organizing Director at NAPAWF. She is based in Los Angeles, CA.

Even though I read and hear about different racist, sexist and ignorant attacks that women of color face every day, every once in a while I’m caught off guard in a way that I can’t anticipate. Like this email our office got not too long ago:

Dear NAPAWF,

My name is _(omitted)_, I am a designer. I am looking for an experienced seamstress and have tried to find one for a long time. Someone suggested that I contacted your organisation [sic] since a lot of asian women sew there [sic] own clothing and there are some really good seamstresses.

Maybe you can tell me where I can put an add [sic] up?
Thank you so much for your help.

After reading this, my reactive-pissed off-high-speed-stream of consciousness went a little something like this…

“What? Are you kidding? Is she serious?? Is this a joke? I’m so sick and tired of your ignorance, stereotypes and sense of entitlement towards us… the fact that you're trying to wipe away the history of struggle and movement-building in our communities in a single email, a brief thought. And you’re perpetuating stereotypes of small, nimble, obedient Asian women that we fight against every day of our lives - (rumbling pit of anger broils in my gut)…

Hey, why should I be surprised?...Isn’t this how most of this country thinks? I can only dream that the answer is no…Yeah, I’m one of those people swimming in the big bubble of social justice work, surrounded by fierce sisters, allies and comrades that live, breathe, and play like me... getting emails like this remind me that there’s a lot more work that needs to be done, blah blah blah... Yeah. I get it…but sometimes I like being in the idealistic bubble… is it really a bubble anyways? Maybe east and west coast bubbles and a few in between…

Yes, there are a lot of Asian women who are seamstresses – but the stereotype goes way deeper than that. It’s about recognizing the struggle of immigrant women workers working in sweatshops and their right to a workplace with fair wages, better working conditions, and free from sexual harassment, exploitation and discrimination. And recognizing the intersections between the garment industry with that of globalization, capitalism, racism, sexism and all those other –isms… Damn, so thanks for reminding me that really this is why I do the work that I do...thanks for reminding me that another world is possible…

So that was my stream of thought. I’m curious… what’s yours? How would you have responded? Share!

If you’re interested in learning more about the struggles and fight to support Asian women in the garment worker industry, here are a few of the many resources you can check out: Sweatshop Warriers, Garment Workers Center and read about one of the most famous cases in the country, the El Monte Thai Sweatshop Workers. (And for those of you wondering how we responded to this email – NAPAWF’s fabulous Courtney Chappell schooled her.)

Fuifuilupe Niumeitolu is a member of the NAPAWF San Francisco branch. She is the producer and co-host of a Tongan radio program titled “Education is Powerful� broadcasted on Radio Tonga, San Francisco. She is also a PhD student and part of a grassroots movement working to implement Pacific Islander Studies at the University of California, Berkeley.

I’m the oldest daughter in a Tongan American family. Tonga, an archipelago located in the Pacific Ocean, neighbors the islands of Samoa, Fiji and Hawai’i. My new home here in the Bay Area currently hosts the largest Tongan community in the U.S. Although the 2000 census reports that we Tongans and other Pacific Islanders are some of the hardest working Americans here in California, our myriad contributions are often unrecognized and images of Tonganness are seldom painted with affirmative brush strokes.

Tongans are many times defined by our big bones and ample brown bodies. Our physical differences are “othered� and hyper visible in the media. These are crucial components in the systems of racializing Tonganness here in the U.S. According to a community based research report on Pacific Islanders released in 2006, the fingers and hands of young Tongan youths are frequently classified by the police as “weapons� similar to loaded machine guns and other dangerous ammunition. In the U.S. imagination, Tonganness is defined as an imminent threat, a “weapon� to be contained. Correspondingly, the hyper visibility of Tongans as athletes in the sports arenas and the simultaneous invisibility of Tongans in academia and other prominent institutions are a direct manifestation of these stereotypes.

Kiran Ahuja is the Executive Director of NAPAWF and has been involved with the organization since 1999 as a national board member and co-founder of the Washington, D.C. chapter. She has practiced as a civil rights lawyer with the U.S. Department of Justice, Civil Rights Division where she worked on desegregation, bilingual, race and national origin discrimination issues in education-related civil rights cases.

As a young leader and woman of color in the women’s and reproductive rights movements, I find myself in meetings with seasoned and more experienced leaders. They often emphasize how many years they have been “in the movement.� As a rite of passage or precursor to an important statement or opinion, time served has become a badge of honor in the movement. Indeed, as a young leader I understand that length of time stands for depth of conviction, expertise, commitment, and hopefully, even wisdom.
At 35, I cannot claim to be a young leader. I am positive my more youthful sisters would balk at the idea of a 35-year-old being called “young,� but that is a statement alone about the progressive women’s movement: the movement and our ideas are maturing.

That I am one of the youngest leaders in the national women’s movement is telling and highlights a serious challenge for the movement – where and when do we make room for new, young and diverse leaders, and when do we see that the inclusion of them determines the success of our movement?

Developing young and diverse leadership remains one of the foremost challenges for the progressive women’s movement. A 2003 report by the Center for the Advancement of Women, Progress and Perils: A New Agenda for Women, noted that few women belong to women’s organizations and that women of color – specifically African American (63%) and Latinas (68%)—had a strong desire for a women’s movement than Caucasian women (41%). These statistics highlight the awkward juxtaposition of a sputtering women’s movement and a growing, potent constituency who crave a movement that puts them at the center.

With the rise of national women of color organizations, an interesting phenomenon is taking place. Several of the newer organizations are being led by young women, including NAPAWF, National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health, and Refugee Women’s Network, to name a few. In NAPAWF’s case, though our founding sisters are now in their 40s and 50s, they consciously stepped back and created space that allowed for young leaders