When I was young and learning reproductive health care for the first time, my stance on this issue could easily be explained by a single, sinister slogan: My body, my choice. It took me a while to learn the difference between what I thought was an unreal reality and an immovable reality of reality.
Although I still firmly believe that my body and what happens to it should ultimately be my choice and mine alone, I now know that the US government has a vested interest in interfering in this choice. And she has been doing that for centuries. Even at the time of its inception, the nation’s ancestors debated ideas that for centuries explained how families were formed, who was able to create them, and whether these families could be man or property. Will be categorized as
Today, the fight continues in the state legislature as legislators fight to limit or systematically eliminate access to abortion and sex-certified health care. Over the past few years, reproductive policy trends have been looked at, including the successful nomination of Amy Connie Barrett to the Supreme Court, and the constant pressure on Brennan’s “personality” bills – or legislation to begin with. Explains the time when sperm is an egg – it’s not too long to say that infertility care is after the cutting block.
While defending infertility care is undoubtedly a cornerstone of the fight for access to reproductive care, infertility is often portrayed as affecting only affluent white people. There is a good reason for this belief. A Pew Research Center survey published in 2018 found that 37% of respondents who had been treated for fertility or knew someone else were white, while 22% were black. The survey was also clear on socio-economic lines, with almost half (48%) of all respondents reporting an annual income of over $ 75,000.
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Infertility care is expensive, even with insurance. A cycle of in vitro fertilization costs an average of $ 10,000. The cost of one cycle alone is a barrier to access, but a 2015 study found that it takes an average of three or four cycles for IVF to be effective in treating infertility. This means that people with infertility can plan to spend at least $ 40,000 over a few years in the hope of starting a family. Faced with these numbers, it is perhaps easier to understand why infertility care is often viewed as an issue that only affects white people with money.
But the truth is that infertility affects people of all races equally, regardless of whether care is accessible to them. And while the testimonies of Michelle Obama and Gabrielle Union may at first glance sound like anomalies, the research points to a systemic issue that disproportionately affects black people. A study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that while people with higher education and household incomes are more likely to seek medical help in pregnancy, infertility among black people across the board Pin care was less likely.
Beyond the question of affordability, the healthcare system’s treatment of black people has been well documented through evidence such as Beyonc اور and Serena Williams, both of whom died during pregnancy and at birth. Complications were encountered. The fact is that black people are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than their white counterparts, when combined with ways to limit access to reproductive health care. Presents a clear picture. For centuries, eugenics has been guided by the United States government’s approach to reproductive care. When policies, practices, and price increases try to shape the belief that only whites and the rich should have children, charging eugenics is the only truth.
I began to realize this when I was studying in college for my first class on African American history at Chatel Slavery. I learned that slave owners were used not only to control when and how black people were enslaved, but also whether their families were separated during the slave auction. These decisions were made, in part, in terms of profitability – who would sell more and why. But slave owners also knew that if they wanted to weaken a black person’s relationship with their community, they could start by destroying families.
After learning this, it became impossible for me to separate the issues of reproductive health care and physical autonomy. Reproductive health care policy is informed by the state’s desire to control a person’s ability to form a family on their own terms. Using reproductive policy to eliminate the notion of physical autonomy, the state places institutions and “personality” in its sphere, rather than the individual.
That is why I am so frustrated by the apathy surrounding the attacks on infertility care. Although popular framing may indicate that infertility care is a problem for white people, history has shown that this is not the case. If it weren’t for the importance, there wouldn’t be the constant pressure to define “personality” that is clever enough to threaten IVF treatment and other forms of fertility care. In January, South Carolina lawmakers introduced another personality-building bill that explicitly defines an unborn child as “an individual human being from fertilization to live birth.” And although the state senator who introduced it disagreed that the language would give the state a broader license to outlaw fertility treatment, the passage of this so-called personal law would make the IVF procedure in South Carolina a reality. Giving will be difficult and dangerous.
The fight for reproductive health care must also include defending and expanding access to infertility care. Although it took me a while, I realized that infertility care is at the root of the problem of physical autonomy. However, when we look beyond fabricated slogans, we realize that the battle for reproductive health care is one in which we need to ask ourselves who we can be, our families. Who can be, and what can be our communities, when we are free. State intervention