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Dorothy RobertsA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
For white women, particularly middle-class white women, “birth control has been an emblem of reproductive liberty” (58). However, racism has long affected women’s access to contraception. For much of the 20th century, the government sponsored family-planning programs that targeted Black women. Some programs coerced Black girls and women into sterilization. In this chapter, Roberts focuses on the use of birth control for social engineering. The relationship between birth control and racism divided the Black community: Some considered birth control essential to elevating the community; others argued that abortion and contraceptives encouraged racial “genocide.”
In the late 19th century, numerous states passed laws banning the distribution of information about contraception. The Comstock Law, a federal law passed in 1873, classified all information about contraception as obscene. Those who distributed such information by mail would be subject to criminal charges.
The Supreme Court wasn’t involved in arguments about birth control until 1965. In Griswold v. Connecticut, the court ruled that Connecticut’s ban on contraceptives violated the right to privacy. The decision was “the culmination of a movement for access to birth control that began in the early twentieth century” (59). When Margaret Sanger began her activism for reproductive rights, the eugenics movement was in its early stages.
White Americans feared that immigrants, particularly those from Eastern and Southern Europe, were reproducing faster than those of Anglo-Saxon descent. Meanwhile, fear of African Americans’ social advancement after the First World War prompted “a race riot in Chicago in the summer of 1919” (62). Lynching, usually of Black men, was prevalent throughout the South. In 1903, President Theodore Roosevelt condemned what he called “willful sterility” among American-born women.
The philanthropists Andrew Carnegie, Mary Williamson Harriman, and John Harvey Kellogg financed the American eugenics movement. Activist Angela Davis has posited that the movement helped justify the West’s imperialist activities throughout the world, as well as the continued exploitation of African American agrarian laborers in the South. Swedish writer Sven Lindqvist traced the Nazi Holocaust to European imperialism: Imperialists attempted to use racist ideas about the people who inhabited other nations to justify their conquests of those countries.
Initially, American eugenic policies mainly targeted white populations, particularly undesirable immigrants, and people with personal flaws, such as people with alcoholism. The practice of sterilization, which had been common in the Pacific West, especially in California, shifted to the South. Physician Thurman B. Rice wrote in his book, Racial Hygiene (1929), that the Black birthrate would outpace that of white births. In addition, concern arose about the intermingling of Black and white people, centering on interracial children and the elimination of the white race. Walter Ashby Plecker, the Virginia registrar of vital statistics, and eugenicist Harry Laughlin amended the Virginia anti-miscegenation law in 1924 to prevent interracial marriages between white people and “anyone with a trace of Negro ancestry” (72). Plecker sought the support of other eugenicists in gaining access to “better census records to verify the racial history of families” (72). In a 1936 issue of Eugenical News, a member of the Ku Klux Klan, Earnest Sevier Cox, advocated repatriating all African Americans of childbearing age back to Africa.
When outlining her proposal for a “Negro Project,” Sanger quoted an essay by writer and early civil rights leader W.E.B. DuBois, written for the June 1932 issue of Birth Control Review. Du Bois, who held that the contraceptive movement needed to address the needs of African Americans, was on the Birth Control Federation of America’s (BFCA) national advisory council on Negro issues. Other board members included educator Mary McLeod Bethune, executive director of the NAACP Walter White, the sociologist E. Franklin Frazier, and Abyssinian Baptist Church minister Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. Sanger received a grant from Dr. Clarence J. Gamble, a member of the board of directors and “heir to the Proctor and Gamble fortune” to disperse birth control information to Southern Black sharecroppers (77).
Black people, however, were often suspicious of white-run birth control programs. In 1939, the Division of Negro Service launched two key projects in the South. The first project, in Nashville, “operated clinics at a Black settlement house called Bethlehem Center and at Fisk University, staffed by Black doctors and nurses” (78). Public health nurses, all of them Black women, visited domestic workers who couldn’t visit the clinic during the day. The second project ran programs in a few rural counties in South Carolina, where Black nurses received training to offer contraceptive advice and instruction. The BCFA, however, firmly controlled each project’s policies. To assuage Black people’s suspicions that the programs were extermination plots, the BCFA made it appear as though Black people were operating the programs.
Black people throughout the US availed themselves of the few birth control clinics that opened in their communities. Black activists played a crucial role in establishing those clinics. After emancipation, newly freed Black women continued to use folk methods for contraception and abortions. The Women’s Era, a newsletter for Black women, advocated reproductive choice when it printed, in 1894, that “not all women are intended for mothers” (82). Black newspapers published in the 1920s and 1930s mentioned the prevalence of both contraception and abortion, usually in their advertisements.
Between 1880 and 1940, Black birth rates dropped. Some demographers attribute this to “higher rates of venereal disease, tuberculosis, infections, and rickets” in the 1930s (82). This hypothesis didn’t account for the use of contraceptives. Moreover, middle-class Black people, who were least likely to contract diseases that caused infertility, had the fewest children.
During the years between the world wars, numerous activists published articles on the need for birth control in Black communities. Birth Control Review published a special issue in September 1919 called “The New Emancipation: The Negroes’ Need for Birth Control, as Seen by Themselves.” The issue included a one-act play by Mary Burrill and an interview with the editor of The Messenger, Chandler Owen. A 1932 issue of the same journal likewise addressed the need for birth control and featured articles from Opportunity magazine editor Elmer A. Carter, Du Bois, Fisk University professor Charles S. Johnson, and Dr. W.G. Alexander, general secretary of the National Medical Association. These leaders promoted birth control to avoid high maternal and infant death rates—and as a way for Black people to improve their standard of living.
Du Bois was one of the first leaders within the Black community to promote birth control. He fought for women’s rights and particularly worked to defend Black women, “whom he admired for their triumph over adversity” (83). In his view, birth control would support economic independence for Black people and women’s independence from traditional roles. He promoted these ideas in his 1920 book Darkwater: Voices from Within the Veil. Du Bois disagreed with the notion that a high birthrate could solve Black people’s subordination. Oberlin College professor Newell Sims agreed and wrote, in his 1932 article “Hostages to the White Man,” that the strategy of outbreeding white people might backfire and result in even more repressive measures to circumscribe Black people’s lives. However, Du Bois wasn’t immune to elitist thinking. He and some other civil rights leaders “sometimes advocated birth control for poorer segments of their own race in terms painfully similar to eugenic rhetoric” (84). Conversely, Marcus Garvey, leader of the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), condemned birth control at his organization’s 1934 annual convention, claiming that it interfered with nature and God’s purpose.
Black leaders who supported birth control never presented it as a means of weeding out those with hereditary defects. Du Bois and others opposed sterilization. In a column for a 1936 issue of the Pittsburgh Courier, he wrote that sterilization programs usually target Black people. Meanwhile, Black women’s clubs in cities throughout the country “worked to educate their less fortunate sisters about birth control” as part of their racial uplift efforts (85).
In 1924, James Hubert, executive secretary of New York’s chapter of the Urban League, asked Sanger about opening a birth control clinic in a Black community in the city. Sanger’s organization had operated a clinic for white women for more than a year. Over the next few years, Sanger met with members of the Urban League to talk about setting up a clinic in Harlem, and a clinic opened in the neighborhood in February 1930. It offered the same services as the main branch dedicated to white women, including gynecological examinations and contraceptive services. Two thousand patients visited in the first year and several thousand in each succeeding year. However, until 1933, about half the patients were white women referred to the clinic from downtown.
Despite support for the Harlem clinic, some members of the community suspected that it practiced a form of racial genocide. Its name, the Clinical Research Bureau, fanned those suspicions. After the clinic moved into the Urban League building and hired Black staff members, including a Black physician, more Black women visited. Sanger resisted giving the Harlem Advisory Council control over the clinic. Moreover, she never invited Black council members to participate in national planning efforts or allowed them to manage clinics that catered to Black patients. In 1935, due to difficulties with funding during the Depression, Sanger “relinquish[ed] the clinic’s management to the New York City Committee of Mother’s Health Centers, affiliated with the American Birth Control League” which cut the clinic’s services and “treated the advisory council with even greater paternalism than Sanger had” (87). The League shut the clinic down a year later.
By the 1940s, eugenics had fallen out of fashion. Critics regarded it as bad science that attempted to legitimize racism. However, between 1929 and 1941, more than 2,000 eugenic sterilizations occurred each year in the US. More than 70,000 people “were involuntarily sterilized under these statutes” (88). Even after the Second World War, Black women, particularly those in the South, underwent involuntary sterilization procedures. All 23 patients sterilized at South Carolina’s State Hospital in 1955 were Black women. In addition, Black men underwent involuntary castration and vasectomies at a much higher rate than white men. This was particularly prevalent at the State Hospital for Negroes in Goldsboro, North Carolina, where around 200 such surgeries occurred.
The sterilizations performed on Black women weren’t part of any official eugenic efforts but were conducted by doctors whom the government paid to provide health care to Black women. In the 1970s, sterilization became the most common form of birth control meted out to Black women. Black Southerners held that Black women were frequently sterilized without their consent. Teaching hospitals often “performed unnecessary hysterectomies on Black women as practice for their medical residents” (89). By the middle of the decade, hysterectomies cost $800 compared to $250 for tubal ligation. Surgeons, who received reimbursements from Medicaid, found more financial incentive in performing hysterectomies—despite the risk that the procedure might kill the patient.
Unnecessary hysterectomies also occurred in Northern hospitals. In 1972, a group of medical students issued a complaint that Boston City Hospital “was performing excessive and medically unnecessary hysterectomies on Black patients” (89). The director of obstetrics and gynecology at a municipal hospital in New York City reported that Black and Puerto Rican women often underwent hysterectomies for training purposes. Another tactic in such hospitals was to offer tubal ligations to Black women while they were still in labor. Some doctors confessed that they considered sterilization the best method to obstruct the growth of poor populations. Social workers sometimes colluded in sterilization plans, threatening women that if they didn’t get sterilized, they’d lose their welfare benefits.
In the 1960s, state legislatures issued numerous proposals ordering the sterilization of single mothers, most of whom were Black. Louisiana and Mississippi successfully passed laws that made it “a crime to give birth to two or more illegitimate children” (92). For a few decades, the Puerto Rican government and the International Planned Parenthood Federation used federal funds to sterilize Puerto Rican women. The project, managed by Dr. Clarence Gamble, who had spearheaded the Negro Project in the South, resulted in the sterilization of over one-third of all Puerto Rican women of childbearing age by 1968—“the highest percentage in the world at that time” (93). A similar effort on Indigenous reservations in the 1970s left a quarter of Indigenous women sterile. One doctor reported sterilization of every female member of Oklahoma’s Kaw tribe.
While coercing Black, Puerto Rican, and Indigenous women into sterilization, health authorities usually deterred white middle-class women who sought sterilization. They typically needed “the endorsement of two doctors and a psychiatrist” (93), although a woman with three children would be ineligible for sterilization until age 40. If they had no children at all, they were denied the procedure. These disparate experiences led to disagreement between Black and white women regarding sterilization. When women activists formed the Committee to End Sterilization Abuse in the late 1970s and introduced guidelines to the New York City Council “to prevent coercive sterilization” (94), other birth control advocates balked, claiming that the guidelines would only make birth control more difficult to obtain.
In 1978, the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare restricted “sterilizations performed under programs receiving federal funds” and demanded both “informed consent and thirty-day waiting period requirements” (94). The department also banned hysterectomies “for sterilization purposes” and prohibited the use of federal funds “to sterilize minors and mentally incompetent and institutionalized persons” (94-95). Physicians and other health care workers, however, continued to pressure women of color to agree to sterilization. By 1990, around 24% of Black women, compared to 17% of white women, had undergone sterilization. Additionally, 9.7% of college-educated Black women had the procedure “compared to 5.6% of college-educated white women” (95). The rate increased with less educated Black women. For several decades, sterilization was the only birth control method that Medicaid funded.
In the 1960s and 1970s, Black nationalists usurped Marcus Garvey’s theory that birth control was a surreptitious method of genocide. The Nation of Islam vociferously opposed birth control. The Black Power conference organized in Newark, New Jersey by poet and activist Amiri Baraka “passed a resolution denouncing birth control” (96). The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), the Urban League, and People United to Save Humanity (Operation PUSH) also voiced concern about the government’s interest in family planning.
Many Black women, however, countered the notion that birth control was a means of genocide. In addition, they sought independence from white-dominated reproductive organizations such as Planned Parenthood and rejected the urging of some Black men to have more children, declaring their right to decide when it was in their interest to have children. The Black Panther Party had divided views on the issue. While some male members opposed birth control, the organization “offered contraceptives as part of its free health care program” (98). A study published in 1970 discovered that 80% of Black women living in Chicago supported birth control and 75% used contraception. Part of this support was likely because Black women had disproportionately been the victims of unsafe abortions before national legalization of the procedure in 1973. Half of all “maternity-related deaths among Black women in New York City in the 1960s were attributed to illegal abortions” (98-99).
Society has forced thousands of Black American women to receive the subcutaneous Norplant contraceptive as part of a campaign to decrease the birthrate of poor Black women. In this chapter, Roberts focuses on how Norplant, a highly effective contraceptive, became yet another means to control the reproductive lives of Black women instead of offering them more reproductive freedom.
Policymakers and political pundits seized upon Norplant to control and limit the birthrate among poor Black women. On December 12, 1990, two days after the Federal Drug Administration (FDA) approved Norplant for sale, Donald Kimelman, deputy editorial-page editor of the Philadelphia Inquirer, penned an article claiming that Norplant could become “a solution to inner-city poverty” (104), arguing that those who have the most children are the least capable of caring for them. He discouraged coercion but supported “giving women on welfare financial incentives” to use Norplant (104). Norplant’s inventor, Dr. Sheldon J. Segal, wrote a letter to the New York Times sharply disagreeing with the use of Norplant for the purpose of social engineering. Black reporters and editors at the Inquirer protested Kimelman’s editorial. At a meeting, some Black staff members were in tears. Editorial-page editor, David Boldt, who permitted the article’s publication, said that his staff’s negative reaction stunned him. Meanwhile, major news outlets, including Newsweek and The New Republic, supported Kimelman’s article. David Frankel, director of population sciences at the Rockefeller Foundation, and then-mayor of Washington, DC, Marion Barry, also supported getting women on welfare to take Norplant. Barry even said that Norplant should have been mandatory for women receiving welfare benefits. Louisiana state representative and Ku Klux Klan Grand Wizard David Duke suggested that women on welfare receive $100 per year to use Norplant. In 1993, then-governor of Maryland William Schaefer agreed with Barry that Norplant should have been mandatory for women on welfare. Mississippi and South Carolina legislatures introduced bills demanding that mothers on welfare get Norplant as a condition of “receiving future benefits” (107). Another Black mayor, Baltimore’s Kurt Schmoke, also endorsed Norplant.
In the 1990s, when legislatures began to cut social programs for the poor, they included line items for Norplant. Washington, DC, “made Norplant available to poor women through Medicaid” (106). Tennessee and Washington state ensured that poor women got information about Norplant. In addition, some efforts were made to get Norplant services to women who were ineligible for Medicaid.
Though most families on welfare in the US aren’t Black, Black people “disproportionately rely on welfare to support their children” (108). When Roberts published this book, Black women made up only 6% of the population but a third of welfare recipients. Also, more Black Americans than white Americans are poor. Black women are five times likelier than white women to live in poverty, to be on welfare, and to be unemployed. While most people on welfare aren’t Black, Americans generally think that most welfare recipients are Black. The media has, for decades, depicted Black mothers when reporting about public assistance.
In addition, policymakers have supported Norplant’s use to deter teen pregnancy. Promotional videos for Norplant featured teenage Black girls. While most teenage mothers are white, in the 1990s “the teen birthrate among Blacks [was] more than double that among whites” (110). Black girls are also likelier to have children out of wedlock. The gap in the unwed birthrate is narrowing, triggering the fears of commentators like Charles Murray, who depicted the “white illegitimacy rate as an impending crisis, destined to cause the same social catastrophes he attributes to Black single motherhood” (110).
Baltimore became “the first city to distribute Norplant aggressively to teenagers” (111). The state paid for the implantation. In the 1990s, Baltimore had one of the nation’s highest rates of teen pregnancy. In addition, school clinics offered Norplant to girls without requiring parental consent. Urban high schools in Los Angeles and on Chicago’s West Side followed suit. These programs outraged some community leaders. A group of Baltimore ministers protested, claiming that such a program wouldn’t have been foisted on teenage white girls. The Nation of Islam followed suit: Its leader, Louis Farrakhan, denounced what he deemed a destructive reproductive policy. Former surgeon general Joycelyn Elders denounced Norplant’s opponents, saying that the contraceptive would prevent more children being born to children.
The US has the highest teen pregnancy rate in the Western world. Teen pregnancy became regarded as a public crisis in the 1960s, though the rate of teen pregnancy was higher in the 1950s than in the 1980s. Declines in teen birthrates over the decades are more likely due to the availability of legal abortion. Roberts wonders if Norplant solved any of the concerns people have around teen pregnancy: teens having sex, getting pregnant, raising children, giving birth out of wedlock, or having babies and going on welfare to support their families.
Many infants born to teen girls “are fathered by adult men” (114), while studies show that at least a quarter of girls are sexual abuse survivors. According to a national survey, which Roberts cites, 75% of teen girls who had had sex before age 14 “reported having coerced sex” (114). Conservatives who think that Norplant signals approval of teen sex consider abstinence the only acceptable way to curb teen pregnancy. Others don’t have a problem with teens having sex; instead, they want to avoid unwanted pregnancies. Teens in Western Europe are as sexually active as those in the US but have much lower pregnancy rates. Western European governments often subsidize contraceptives and instruct teens on how to use them. In the US, however, while public schools typically offer some form of sex education, they don’t typically cover issues regarding abortion, consent, and contraceptive use.
Much concern around teen pregnancy arises from the fear voiced by Joycelyn Elders: that children will be raising children. Roberts posits that teen girls may have babies not because they desire motherhood “but because they have little incentive to avoid it” (115). Additionally, some don’t think that having a child will ruin their prospects for success. A study that followed Black teen moms in Baltimore over two decades found that most later graduated from high school, found full-time jobs, and no longer relied on welfare benefits. Conversely, most teenage mothers who don’t finish high school dropped out before becoming pregnant. As for potential health concerns, the risk of infant death is lower among teen mothers than it is for babies born to older mothers.
Some worry surrounding teen pregnancy is based on the value that only married couples should procreate. While some hold that marriage to a financially secure man improves a young mother’s prospects, it could result in additional problems, such as leaving school, having more children she can’t afford, and getting divorced or separated. A teen mom who remains unmarried is likely to remain with her family, who would typically offer financial support, as teenage mothers usually have children with young men who are also unemployed. Finding permanent work, Roberts concludes, would be more sensible for teen moms than getting married.
Another complaint about teen pregnancy is its burden on taxpayers. However, as Roberts notes, the notion that federal and state aid will encourage teens to have children is unfounded. European countries and Canada have better social safety nets than the US and much lower teen birthrates.
Norplant’s long-term health impact on teens is unknown, as most participants in clinical trials of the contraceptive were women over 18. Clinical trials “conducted in Bangladesh between 1985 and 1987 on 600 urban slum women” (121) revealed problems with medical ethics: Participants in the trial weren’t informed about Norplant’s side effects, and workers at the clinic failed to obtain participants’ consent for the trials. Finally, the clinic gave participants “monetary incentives for the insertion” (121) and discouraged them from reporting health complications.
As a long-term contraceptive option, Norplant is best for women who have sex regularly; however, teens usually have intercourse sporadically. Thus, government officials who press Norplant on teens haven’t done “cost-benefit analysis” (122). More alarmingly, many doctors who inserted Norplant didn’t take advantage of the removal training that Wyeth-Ayerst offered, and their inexperience has resulted in serious injuries. When the implants were too deep under the skin, doctors have had to dig around to find them, which caused the formation of keloid scars and nerve damage. The health complications have led to class-action lawsuits against Wyeth-Ayerst. The plaintiffs alleged that Wyeth-Ayerst promoted Norplant without notifying women of its potentially adverse effects. Class-action suits filed in Missouri and New Mexico claimed that the company profited from marketing Norplant to poor women of color.
The coercive nature of Norplant marketing, in addition to the inability of women to remove the inserts themselves, places control of the contraceptive in the hands of healthcare providers. Removal of Norplant is time-consuming and costly. In some instances, women for whom Medicaid covered the insertion procedure didn’t have access to those benefits when they requested removal. Such circumstances resulted in girls and women taking desperate measures, including cutting themselves with razor blades to try to remove the implants. Some states would remove Norplant capsules at their own expense only in cases of “documented medical necessity” (126); otherwise, removal had a five-year waiting period. Other women who had Norplant implants suspected that they were “used as guinea pigs to test the drug’s safety” (128) and that doctors refused to remove the implants so that they could observe the side effects.
Roberts notes that the government’s willingness to pay for poor women to take Norplant but not to pay for basic needs like food and shelter shows that it’s more interested in reducing certain populations than in personal welfare. This view was particularly ostensible in Bangladesh, Indonesia, and Peru, where officials threatened women with the loss of their jobs and even their lives if they refused to comply with implantation. In Bangladesh, only a quarter of the women who sought to have Norplant removed successfully got doctors to comply with their first request, and some women received food aid only after showing a card to prove their sterilization.
By the mid-1990s, clinics in the US saw a drastic decline in Norplant use. Patients seeking long-acting contraceptives began to turn to the contraceptive drug Depo-Provera. Contraceptive programs heavily marketed this new method. One such program in Maryland offered the drug to low-income women in 1993, which resulted in 360 women receiving the drug “in the program’s first three months” (140). The following year, Indiana “approved a $175,000 contract with Upjohn that allow[ed] the state to offer Depo-Provera free at family-planning clinics” (140). This was more than what had been allocated to distribute Norplant.
In these chapters, Roberts explores the debate on birth control as an emblem of women’s liberty and as a method of control over Black women’s reproduction. The argument that developed between Black and white women activists over the issue revealed the chasm in cultural and historical contexts, which connects to Black women’s forebears living in bondage.
Roberts mentions that the Red Summer riots of 1919 evoke images of Black men beaten, lynched, and murdered in other ways, though this season of domestic terrorism mutilated and killed Black women as well. Red Summer refers to the flow of blood in the streets of Northern and Southern cities. A year before the Armistice that ended World War I, an uptick in Ku Klux Klan activity resulted in a remarkable incidence of lynching. The worst riots were in Chicago and Omaha. In Chicago, tension had risen over housing: Southern Black people who migrated to Northern and Midwestern cities found a dearth of housing available due to de facto segregation, which excluded them from many neighborhoods. The riot’s trigger was supposedly that a white man had caused a Black boy to drown after he drifted into the “white section” of Lake Michigan. President Woodrow Wilson, himself a racist nostalgic for the antebellum South, blamed white people for instigating the riot.
Not coincidentally, the uptick in violence toward Black people coincided with two key events: the return of World War I soldiers to the US and women’s right to suffrage. African American soldiers had returned home from fighting in Europe, where they’d experienced greater freedom and respect than they did at home. Some Black soldiers chose to remain in Europe. Domestically, concern arose among many white Americans that Black soldiers, who had fought gallantly in the war, would return home and assert their citizenship. This prompted a violent backlash to remind Black men of their place as subordinates in the white patriarchal social structure. Additionally, all women had received the right to vote, though Southern Black women were unable to realize that right fully until 1965, with the passage of the Voting Rights Act. Concerns over women’s increased liberties, as well as the loosening of sexual conduct during the Jazz Age (a period that was inextricable from the influences of Black music and dance), caused white Southern men to become ravenous in their efforts to lynch Black men, on whom they projected their sexual insecurities and fears of losing gender dominance.
Meanwhile, advocacy for birth control in Black communities soared. This support often depended on activists’ Socialist and Communist politics, which encouraged equality between the sexes, as well as Black women’s embrace of independence outside socially constructed roles. Leaders of birth control reform within the Black community were overwhelmingly male, as Roberts makes clear in enumerating the writers who covered the subject in the early 20th century. W.E.B. Du Bois, who gets the most frequent mention, was the most important civil rights figure of the period. Though he was a preeminent advocate of birth control, he believed in the Talented Tenth—a select group of people within the Black community, usually middle-class, who would provide moral leadership for others within the race—and in birth control. Roberts alludes to this when she connects some ideas that circulated among Black leaders during this period with those of eugenicists. Moreover, the relative absence of Black women’s voices on this issue, except for Bethune, underscores the gender discrimination that existed in the Black community in all classes and educational levels.
Had more advocacy supported Black women early on, it might have helped stem the wave of sterilization policies that befell the Black community in the midcentury and, particularly, in the 1970s. Another motivation for sterilization efforts, as Roberts explains, was monetary gain. Doctors’ disregard for Black women’s health in favor of earning money, coupled with experiments on Black women at teaching hospitals, underscores the perpetuation of abuses committed in earlier centuries by figures such as J. Marion Sims. Though Black women were no longer slaves and, later, could check into integrated hospitals, healthcare providers’ views of Black women had evolved little—that is, the sense that their care mattered less than that of white patients persisted along with less recognition of their humanity.
This obliviousness was also apparent in Donald Kimelman’s reaction to his colleagues’ hurt. He’d singled out poor Black women as prime candidates for Norplant, unaware of the possibility that some of his co-workers may have grown up in impoverished households. The implication was, yet again, that poor Black people were incapable of producing viable members of society. Those who agreed with Kimelman, notably Marion Barry and Kurt Schmoke, may have internalized racism, leading them, too, to single out Black women for long-term birth control. Plenty of sexism persisted in this view as well: No one seemed interested in pursuing long-term birth control options for men, such as state-sponsored vasectomies.
Meanwhile, the panic over teen pregnancy generated no plan to grapple with root causes. Roberts points out the link between sexual abuse and teen moms. The coercion to get long-term birth control unfairly places all responsibility for pregnancy on a young woman, encouraging her to internalize her shame around abuse. Roberts’s mention of the Baltimore study helps dispel the notion that carrying a pregnancy to term dooms teen moms, but she’s arguably dismissive of Joycelyn Elders’s legitimate concern about children having children. The consensus among Western societies is that people are better parents when they’re older—that is, when they’ve become more educated and gained enough life experience to better understand the tremendous responsibility of parenting.
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