Drops in the bucket

A couple of years ago, I hopped into the Facebook controversy over breastfeeding with this post and this followup. I haven't been so involved in the continuing controversy in the last eighteen months. I weaned the boys, got busy with our growing family, had a little PPD inspired nervous breakdown, and healed marvelously and beautifully. And so it goes.

Last night, I got an email from a researcher named Caroline Jack at Cornell University. She is working on a research project that "looks at how social media affect the ways we make sense of contentious social and political issues, and how the policies set by social networking sites may influence the conversations that individuals and communities can have about those issues" (to quote directly from her email, because I certainly can't paraphrase this concisely). As part of this research, she's interviewing people who were involved in the Facebook controversy over breastfeeding. She asked me for an interview, and I excitedly said yes. (We're finalizing a date in August).


And then I started reminiscing. It was so exciting to be involved in the Facebook breastfeeding debate. It felt important. Relevant. It might have been a small drop in the bucket of all that needs to change in our society, but damn...it was something. It felt hopeful. I believed. 


I believed that if we all kept trying, we could make a difference. I believed that we could educate our communities, convert our neighbors, and gain some true publicity to get the word out there. And through all of this, I believed that the world would be a little bit better.


So it's two years later. I haven't posted any breastfeeding pictures of Anwen and I, and I'm not up on the current state of Facebook with breastfeeding. The reality is, breastfeeding, in many ways, is simply one of many aspects of life that we can look at to see how women are being treated/perceived/censored (controlled) -- by society as a whole.  We live in a world that is not equal. It's not equal if you're a woman, if you're gay, if you're part of a racial minority...I could go on and on. I fear that we're often lured into believing that things are better. That we're not still living under the heavy thumb of patriarchy. Wake up. The truth is ugly.


But back to breasts and Facebook for a moment. In the spirit of the second of my above mentioned posts, I did a quick search on Facebook...I typed the word "boobs" into the search bar. I immediately was presented with four different apps, all creatively named "boobs" with a combined 39,000 monthly users. The first app listed included the description, "send a pair of boobs to your friends! Some are hot, some are NOT!" So then I searched four more terms for breasts. Here are the images that immediately popped up:

                     

As recently as February, Facebook had this to say about pictures of "nude" breasts: 

When it comes to uploaded photos on Facebook, the vast majority of breastfeeding photos comply with our Statement of Rights and Responsibilities, which closely mirrors the policy that governs broadcast television, and which places limitations on nudity due to the presence of minors on our site. On some occasions, breastfeeding photos contain nudity – for example an exposed breast that is not being used for feeding – and therefore violate our terms. When such photos are reported to us and are found to violate our policies, the person who posted the photo is contacted, and the photos are removed. Our policies strive to fit the needs of a diverse community while respecting everyone¹s interest in sharing content that is important to them, including experiences related to breastfeeding.

There are tens of thousands of fans of these pages. Pages that are heralded by pictures of hyper-sexualized and often disfigured breasts. Apparently, this content is considered within the realm of appropriateness for "minors on (Facebook's) site." I mean, it took me, a thirty one year old mother of three, less than five minutes to pull up these images. Certainly a tech savvy thirteen year old is equally capable, no?

I'm not pointing this out to be the boob police. I'm not posting these images for anyone's entertainment. I'm not making a judgement on what is or is not appropriate content for thirteen year olds. I'm trying to bring attention to the fact that breastfeeding is the tip of the iceberg.  In at least half of these pictures, the women shown have no face. No head. They are pieces of meat. In the vast majority of images, the bodies have been cut off. In most cases, the breasts have been altered, either on the screen or in the flesh, or both.

It's not about Facebook and breastfeeding. It's not solely about gender equality. It's about our world.

When I first posted on this two years ago, I posted all of the images I could find. There were four of them. Two years later, and in the same brief search, I found twenty-two. Twenty two images of somebody's daughter. Somebody's sister. Somebody's friend. I posted twenty two pictures of human beings, their bodies morphed and de-personalized, degraded.

In spite of all of this effort by tens of thousands, here we remain. Here we have progressed. 

My heart breaks. I brought children into this world. This world, where the KKK goes to court over their right to adopt a section of the highway. (Excuse me while I stop to vomit. Writing "KKK" and "their right" in the same sentence makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.) But children. My children. Your children. This is the future we offer them. Where the fucking KKK goes to court over a highway, and yet women have not been granted the legal protection to nourish their babies in the most accessible, simple and natural way they can. Where Chick Fil A throws homophobia around like a banner of patriotism for the first amendment, and yet thousands of people are dying at the hands of their own governments. Where a man walks into a movie theater and senselessly opens fire on innocent people, and yet money still wins out in the debate over gun control.

This is our world. This is what we have created. Our willingness to go along with it is our vote for things to stay the same. My heart breaks. I want more. I want better. I want to believe.

I want my children to grow up with hope.

I want my daughter to never know there was a time where she could have been an object. Where she could become a commodity for her breasts. I want my sons to never know a time where having a penis meant an automatic ownership. I want them all to know a world where we are born equal. Where good wins and where evil isn't worth it. Where they will have the opportunity to prove their excellence because of what they become, not what they are born with.

I want to believe.

And I'm terrified. I'm terrified that we're exhausted. I'm terrified that we're blind. I'm terrified that we're all too willing to turn our heads and look the other way. I'm terrified that we think this is good enough. Or that we think this is as good as it gets. I'm terrified...at the idea that we all think somebody else is going to fix it.

That "somebody else" ...? The one who's going to fix it?

Put the computer, the tablet, the phone...put it down. Go look in the mirror. 

It's you. 

It's me. 

It's all of us. And if we don't?

This is our world. 

Beyond Attachment

When I was pregnant for the first time, I threw myself into preparing for motherhood. I researched gentle parenting techniques. Kyle and I prepared to rearrange our lives to accommodate and nurture our baby twins in the most loving way possible. I couldn't wait to change their tiny cloth diapers. I couldn't wait to snuggle them close to me in the Moby wrap. I felt peaceful in the idea that attachment parenting would provide us with the right tools to gently nurture our little family.

When the boys were born seven weeks early and whisked off to the NICU, our plans for the early days with our babies changed dramatically. Instead of taking a quiet few weeks together at home to bond, the boys were kept in plastic isolettes amidst the constantly chiming monitors. When I was discharged three days after my Cesarean, I was told to go home and visit the boys during the day, rather than staying with them in their room as I desperately wanted. Weak and overwhelmed, I agreed. I was petrified for my tiny babies alone in their fancy plastic bins. How would this time impact our bond?

Somehow, as time went on, in the blur of postpartum depression and sleep deprivation, I began to think of those first few weeks as my first transgression against attachment parenting. Every AP article I read talked about the shoulds and should nots. I should always respond to my babies' cries. Did they do that at 3 AM in the NICU? I should not allow my baby to spend hours a day laying alone in a plastic bin. Nothing addressed things not going according to plan. In whatever big or small way, I felt I had failed.

Fast forward several months. I persevered with attachment parenting, trying my best to live up to what were beginning to feel, at times, like pretty exacting standards. As time wore on, that early NICU experience started to feel like the first of many stumbling departures from AP. At nine months, there was sleep training - a desperate and heartbreaking solution to my extreme sleep deprivation from getting up to nurse the boys every two hours at night. Skip ahead a few more months. At some point I yelled for the first time. At some point, I swore. At some point, I tried time outs. In my head, all I could hear was "failure!" "Failure!" "Failure!"

Here's the thing. I think attachment parenting offers some wonderful tools. I believe the world would be a better place if more people adopted its principals. However.

I AM AN IMPERFECT HUMAN BEING. I am not always entirely zen. I am emotional, sensitive, and quick to react to my environment. No matter how hard I try, I can never be true to myself AND fit my circular body into a square shaped box. But it goes further than that, too.

I'm concerned about the ominously missing coverage of "what if" situations in AP literature. No parent is perfect all of the time. I'm wary of any parenting advice that quickly and harshly judges those who chose other paths, and I can't help but feel horrified by every AP article I've ever read that warns of the brain damage! and antisocial behaviors! suffered by non AP children.

As a feminist, I'm left feeling icky about the implications of AP on women. AP is child centered, but I'm not sure that it's family balanced. In college, I spent my senior year completing a capstone project on women and self-help culture. My overwhelming conclusion was that our society's plethora of self-help books and television, largely aimed at women, lead to the message that we're somehow not good enough as we are. Forget that we're all supposed to look like super models. We're also not centered enough on the inside. At some point, AP advice has started to feel the same way to me.  I need to be more patient. I need to do a better job of empathizing with my child. I need to be gentle and maintain my child's dignity when disciplining. If I do not do these things, I bear the weight of harming their very sense of self.

I offer these thoughts not to condemn AP or those who practice it. In most ways, I continue to parent in a very AP fashion. What I want is to be honest with myself about how and why I choose to parent. I want to challenge and examine it. AP is becoming increasingly popular. I suspect I'm not the only one who at times feels confused by a parenting style that centers around the gentle treatment of children yet leaves me feeling like my own sense of self has taken a beating. In the end, I pick and choose. More than anything, I strive to parent mindfully, in a way that is gentle for our entire family. As a mother, I know that I am not now and never will be perfect. I'm learning that this little fact isn't a failure on my part. In all reality, it's one of the best parts of this journey.

Somewhere in a dark corner, Facebook is eating the tiniest morsel of crow. At least for the moment.

Remember the misogyny fan page on Facebook that I recently wrote about?

It's gone.

Just like that.  The only way I know it is gone is because I've been checking in regularly.  Facebook doesn't seem to communicate with the account holders who report offensive content, which seems to be a poor choice in customer service to me, but I suppose that's their right.

Either way, the page is gone, even though I'm not exactly sure how or why Facebook finally chose to remove it.  I think it's reasonable to believe that enough of us reported the page and pushed Facebook to act, so I'm going to count this as a small victory.

The disappointing thing is that originally, I was counting this as a big victory.  After I wrote about  the hypocritical Facebook policies regarding images of women's bodies and showed images of the highly sexualized and objectified pictures of women's breasts that Facebook allows next to my banned breastfeeding picture, most of the objectifying images and applications suddenly disappeared from Facebook.  Since that post had a lot of exposure, I was hoping and believing that the hundreds of people who reported those images had helped to get them removed.  So before writing this post, I decided to check back in and see how Facebook is doing on equally applying their policies regarding images of breasts.  We know they're still removing images of women breastfeeding, so I had foolishly hoped that they're at least also applying their ignorant policies to the content that objectifies women and is actually offensive.  No such luck.  A quick search for "tits" and "boobs" on Facebook brought up many of the images from my original post that had initially been removed.   Even more disheartening were the many new fan pages and applications that go even further to objectify women's bodies.

Maybe I'm just paranoid.  Maybe I'm starting to reek of Facebook conspiracy theory.  But any way I look at it, I cannot find any reasonable explanation for why Facebook would remove misogynistic content when they're getting a lot of negative publicity over it, and then quietly re-instate that content when the buzz dies down.  From every angle, all I see is Facebook contributing to a social structure that allows for violence toward and hatred of women.

Will the misogyny page come back in a few weeks?  I don't know if it even matters.  The real misogyny page is the one that opens when you visit www.facebook.com.

Facebook...apparently a safe harbor for misogyny

A few days ago I wrote about quitting Facebook.  Here's the thing...

I'm not going to quit Facebook.

I'll be honest, there are a couple of selfish reasons why I'm going to continue to utilize a company whose morals  threaten to make Ted Nugent sound like a good guy.  I like staying in contact with friends and family who I don't get to see regularly (yes - I could do this via another social networking service - but until THEY all move over too, well...) and a lot of my blog readers connect to my posts via Facebook.  I'm no Dooce - I need every reader I can get.

But selfish reasons aside, there's a more compelling reason that I'm not quitting Facebook: I think Facebook sucks.

I also think that Facebook is not going away any time soon.

So I can take a stand, pack up my principals, and leave (which, to be honest, is exactly what Facebook probably wants from its less-than-cooperative users - after all, they kick people off for swimming upstream, and with 400,000,000 users, they certainly don't need me), or I can take a stand, gather my principals around me, and stay.

I don't plan to stay quietly.

I plan to regularly, methodically, and insistently expose Facebook's misogyny and lackluster corporate responsibility.  I plan to blog, Tweet, and yes, use Facebook, to reach as many people as possible to work together to ask them to change.

Facebook has no reason to care if non-users think they suck.  But if Facebookers start complaining, start suggesting, start reporting content that spreads hate and perpetuates inequality, then maybe, just maybe, Facebook will start to have reason to care.

That said, today I'm focusing on the Facebook fan page titled "Misogyny."  Since misogyny is defined as hatred of women, I would have expected that when I and several of my Facebook friends reported this page, it would have been removed.  After all, Facebook explains in their Terms of Use that:

We remove content that harasses an individual or group. Facebook also must honor requests to remove content that draws unwanted attention to specific people. To prevent this from happening in the future, please be careful to review the content of any group you administer.

And,

Facebook thoroughly reviews every report we receive to determine whether or not the content violates our Terms of Use. Any content that is considered sexually explicit, violent, malicious or otherwise offensive will be removed. If you received a warning about an item that was taken down, then we have established that it violated these terms.

I would consider a fan page dedicated to the hatred of women as containing content that "harasses an individual or group."  And as a woman, I also have to say that the type of attention drawn to woman from such a group is "unwanted."  They claim to "thoroughly review every report" they receive to determine if there's been a violation.  I wonder how they could review this page, multiple times, and NOT conclude that it is "violent, malicious, or otherwise offensive."

And so I have to ask, why is it that Facebook is knowingly allowing a group dedicated to the hatred of women?

***

Click here to visit the Facebook misogyny page - on the left hand side near the bottom is the link to report the content...you know what to do.

Keep on keeping on...

Facebook is waiting for us all to go away.

Supporters of breastfeeding have been fighting against Facebook's hypocritical and discriminatory policies towards breastfeeding for over three years now, and yet Facebook has pretty much been eerily silent on the whole matter.

I find that infuriating. I find it patronizing. I find it unacceptable.

There is too much at stake to move on and accept the idea that the world's largest social networking site declares breastfeeding to be obscene. We cannot slowly dissipate and forget it ever happened. We CAN make a difference. We need to make a difference, because if we don't, it will be our sons and daughters and their sons and daughters and theirs and theirs and theirs who will fight this fight after we are long gone. I don't want that for my children. I don't want that for any children.

I'm not going to go away. I hope you won't either. Facebook can hide, Facebook can ignore this issue, but Facebook cannot out-will the strength or stubbornness of thousands of passionate mothers (And fathers! And babies!) who demand to be treated with respect.

I find it easy to get swept up in the excitement of activism when the energy is high and things are moving fast. It becomes more challenging as time goes by, people move on, and we start to lose focus. It is in these moments of losing focus and moving on that Facebook wins. It is in these moments that patriarchy - a system that is failing humanity - wins.

Forget breastfeeding for a minute. Let's talk simply and plainly and honestly about humanity. People. Human beings. Mothers, fathers, babies. Children. Let's talk about a world where we're not afraid to love and nurture, and where we prioritize the well-being of individuals and communities rather than corporations and greed.

Our passion and conviction over what is RIGHT is stronger than Facebook's passion and conviction over what is wrong.

It's time to continue taking action.

A few action steps to show Facebook that this - and we - are not going away:

1. Use social media to our benefit. Retweet, Digg, and Share on Facebook. (This post, earlier posts, posts from other blogs, news articles, your own words...send the message loud and clear!)

2. Continue to share breastfeeding pictures on Facebook.

3. Write to Facebook. Tell them they're wrong. If you can't find their contact information (good luck...and please share if you do!), make your letter to Facebook public and share it openly with the world.

4. Ask Ellen (and other public figures) to join in the effort to normalize breastfeeding in our culture.

This has gone on long enough! It is 2010! Don't let Facebook get away with telling mothers that breastfeeding is obscene. Do not give up.

It goes so far beyond Facebook...

Standing up and demanding that breastfeeding be normalized in our society goes far beyond the issue of whether some people are uncomfortable with the sight of a mother nourishing her child in the best way possible. If this video doesn't give you chills, doesn't outrage you, and doesn't make you question the corporate corruption that too often drives our society, I'm not sure what will.

We need to demand change.

And as a breastfeeding mother who fiercely and adamantly believes that breast is best - I think it is incredibly important, essential even, to point out that this is NOT an attack on mothers who choose not to breastfeed or are not able to. This is an attack on the societal pressures that contribute to an environment where the benefits of breastfeeding are incredibly marginalized and where mothers who choose to breastfeed are often stigmatized, judged, and harassed. Despite the fact that the WHO recommends exclusive breastfeeding for the first six months of life, 2003 CDC data shows that in the US, only 14.2% of mothers were following that recommendation. And did you know that in 2006, the United States had the second worst infant mortality rate in the entire developed world?

Where are our priorities?

A society that surrounds young girls with Barbie and her ridiculous body measurements, where approximately one in four females experiences sexual violence, where breastfeeding mothers are asked to leave public places , and where a major formula company can net profits of over 9 billion dollars a year, I really wonder HOW we expect mothers to choose breastfeeding and stick to it. US hospitals are notorious for giving babies bottles even when asked not to by mothers attempting to establish breastfeeding. I've posted about my own experiences struggling to teach my preemies to breastfeed and the hurdles I ran into with lack of hospital support, and I assure you that I am not alone - not by a long shot - in that experience.

Facebook, I'm afraid, is only the tip of the iceberg. It is simply symbolic of the environment we sit in.

But.

We have to start somewhere. We have to start everywhere.

I don't know about you, but I don't want to be defined by the society I described above. To the core of my being, I believe that we are better than this.

You can learn more. You can help.

• This earlier post lists things we can all do to help...here are some additions to that list, many of them courtesy of your comments...thank you!
• Baby Milk Action - helping to protect babies from unsafe breast milk substitutes and protecting breastfeeding
• Help get Ellen on board - it may sound silly, but we NEED mainstream media support and exposure
• Offer to become a Roots of Empathy family, or become an instructor. Roots of Empathy brings attachment parenting, including breastfeeding, into the classroom.
• Offer to visit your a local classroom or daycare as a pregnant woman, and then do follow up visits with the baby.
• Support the Nursing is Normal initiative: http://www.kathyobrien.org/NINgallery.htm and on Facebook.

This list is a small sampling of how you can help - if you have an idea or know of a resource, please share and I will post.

Censor-Book

Yesterday, FOX news out of Washington aired this piece detailing the hard work of thousands of mothers across the country and around the globe. It is amazing and exciting to see that people are starting to pay attention, and to help spread the word that breastfeeding is healthy, normal, and nothing to hide.

Imagine my surprise when I went to share the link with a group on Facebook and got this message:

And what exactly is it, Facebook, that you found to be abusive about this piece? The part where breastfeeding mothers speak up against your misogynistic and sexist policies? Or is it just women taking a stand that bothers you?

You can censor us Facebook, you can delete our photos and delete our accounts. We'll still be the ones who are right.

Let's get Ellen to help!

So Facebook doesn't like breastfeeding.

Let's use Facebook against itself.

I've started a Facebook group titled, Hey Ellen, we could use your help...please do a show on breastfeeding!.

I invite you to join and to invite your friends. Attention from the mainstream media will help accomplish exactly what we need: to bring breastfeeding out from the corners, under the blankets, and in bathroom stalls and back into the light.

Fixing things.

How does one change the world? Or at least the parts of the world that need fixing?

Society has continued, generation after generation, because women breastfed their babies. Maybe not every woman. Maybe not every generation. But if you take the formula and bottles out of the equation, society would still exist. Take the breasts and breast milk out of the equation, and we would have never arrived at a point where we decided to see if science could out-do the human body.

And here we are. It's 2010. Breastfeeding is still met with controversy. Stigma. Enough is enough. Enough. Let's fix this. Throughout history, women have overcome amazing obstacles - bigger obstacles than this. We can overcome this obstacle. Once and for all, let's work together and put this issue to rest. Let's create a world where women feed their babies in peace, and where the act of breastfeeding is viewed as the loving, natural, necessary, and important act that it is.

Change doesn't happen overnight. It happens when a group of people refuse to give up. Dedicate themselves to taking the small and large steps necessary to make things right as many times as it takes. Organize themselves. Persist.

Here are some of my ideas. I want to hear yours. If you send them to me as comments or email, I will continue to post on this topic and include them. If you've already sent me one that I haven't included here, I apologize. I'm going to comb back through comments and pick up any I've missed.

1. Next time you see a woman breastfeeding in public, say thank you. Say good job.

2. Visit http://squishybummum.blogspot.com/2010/03/bugger-having-dreami-have-plan.html. She offers a good plan for helping to "normalize" breastfeeding - she needs our support, our participation, and our help.

3. If you're a breastfeeding mother, get out there and do it in public. Our society needs to see that breastfeeding is normal and healthy.

4. Learn about the breastfeeding legislation in your state. http://www.ncsl.org/default.aspx?tabid=14389. If your state protects your right to breastfeed in public, print out the legislation and carry it in your diaper bag. Show it to anyone who questions you or asks you to go somewhere more private. If your state doesn't protect your right to feed your baby in public, contact your elected officials and ask them to help.

5. Write a letter to the editor in support of breastfeeding.

6. If you're a blogger, blog about the importance of breastfeeding, or your experiences with it.

7. Post pictures of breastfeeding on Facebook. Make it your profile picture. Emma from Montreal offers support and a challenge to all of us at http://www.facebook.com/topic.php?uid=2517126532&topic=18640.

8. Join pro-breastfeeding groups on Facebook, including Hey Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene! and If breastfeeding offends you, put a blanket over YOUR head!

9. Talk to your children about breastfeeding. What it is and why it is important.

10. If you're a business owner, make sure that your business is breastfeeding friendly. Display the international breastfeeding symbol. http://www.breastfeedingsymbol.org/

11. Visit http://thenursingcircle.com/ and share your breastfeeding story.

12. Push for media attention. Write to the media you feel are influential and important. Ask them to help in these efforts.

13. Wear pro-breastfeeding clothing. Have your baby wear it. Get a bumper sticker. Visit http://www.breastfeedingsymbol.org/ or make your own.

14. Become familiar with the World Health Organization's recommendations on breastfeeding. http://www.who.int/topics/breastfeeding/en/. Share these recommendations with friends and family.

15. Learn about the Baby Friendly Hospital Initiative. If you are pregnant, try to find a Baby Friendly hospital in your area. Let local hospitals know that you want them to adopt the BFHI standards. http://www.babyfriendlyusa.org/eng/01.html

16. Let hospital staff know that you don't want your newborn to be given a bottle, and explain why. Visit http://web.me.com/jodieisner/Site/Hat.html for hats that remind hospital staff that bottles are not welcome for your baby.

17. If you have a surplus in your milk supply, donate it to a baby in need. http://www.breastmilkproject.org/ http://www.hmbana.org/.

18. Learn about the benefits of breast milk. Tell your friends. Tell your family.

19. Ask new moms if they have support with breastfeeding. If they don't, offer to be that support.

20. Speak up when you hear or see breastfeeding mothers being treated with disrespect.

What are your ideas? How are you going to make a difference?

Stand and Speak

When Rhys and Quin were born, they were admitted to the NICU for several weeks. They had feeding tubes and were kept in hard plastic isolettes for warmth. It wasn't what I'd envisioned for my babies' first days in the world.

We were allowed to visit as much as we wanted, but were warned about touching them too much for fear of over-stimulation. I remember the trepidation and heartbreak I'd feel every time I'd reach my hand through the little porthole into the warmth of the isolette and feel their soft downy skin and delicate tufts of hair. I longed to pick them up and hold them close. Sometimes the nurses would come in and see me standing there with my hand on one of my babies and give me a chiding look. "They need to rest." I had to ask permission to change their diapers. They were almost 24 hours old by the time I got "permission" to try breastfeeding.

It wasn't what I'd envisioned for my first days as a mother. I kept waiting for their real mother to sweep in - a more competent and therefore deserving woman who I imagined would wear peach lipstick and smell faintly of mint gum. The days came and went, but she never appeared. I trudged on. Back and forth to the hospital every day, a hunched and spent shell of my former self. At night I'd set the alarm to go off every two hours so that I could wake up and pump. I'd sit in the dark of our bedroom and cry alongside the whoosh and whir of the Medela, covered in postpartum sweat and sticky from milk. Each morning I'd deposit my night's work with the nurses in the NICU, and I'd ask them to count my supply. I'd anxiously await the results, frantically calculating in my head whether I'd supplied enough milk to get both babies through the day without the nurses supplementing with formula. Formula. Nobody ever asked my permission.

When I finally accepted that the lady with the peach lipstick wouldn't be waltzing in to save us, I realized I would have to muster up my strength and figure out how to be the mother my babies needed. The NICU staff was starting to talk about removing the feeding tubes and starting the babies on bottles. Breastfeeding wasn't going spectacularly, but we were making progress. I knew I didn't want my tiny new babies to have bottles. I did my research. Talked to the lactation consultant. Talked to family and friends. Armed with a page of researched rationale, I walked in to the babies' hospital room one morning and requested to speak with the provider on duty. When the young PA arrived, I took a breath and started my rehearsed speech.

"I want to talk about how we can avoid putting the babies on bottles. I want to exclusively - "

She turned briskly to face me and cut me off. "Not gonna happen." She then opened the porthole on the isolette and reached her hand in to stroke Quin's back. She didn't have to ask anyone's permission. I watched her touch his tiny arms and legs the way I longed to. She smoothed the fuzz on his head. I tried to swallow and couldn't. Four year's worth of wanting and waiting lodged in my throat and refused to leave.

Later that day, the lactation consultant tried to console me. "Just do what they say and get these babies home. Then you can do whatever you want. Sometimes you have to lose a battle to win the war."

An hour later, I was sitting in a rocking chair, feeding one of my babies a bottle while every last frail thread of motherly confidence quietly withered and fell away.

***

It seems that Facebook has removed some of the hyper-sexual pictures of breasts that I included in Monday's post. But there are more. And there will be more. So while removing all of the sexualized images of women might make the playing field more even, that's really not what I'm aiming for. What I'm aiming for is for Facebook and for society as a whole to start viewing breastfeeding with respect instead of disdain, and with support rather than stigma.

In the past three days, over 25,000 people have visited these posts. Many have shared their support. I am overwhelmed and energized. Let's not stop here.

Facebook has offered no direct response. We need to show them that we're not going away. This matters. We matter. Our babies matter.

The woman with peach lipstick never came to save me. She doesn't exist. For Rhys and Quin, I'm what they've got. I lost a battle but I will not lose the war. These are my babies. I'm going to make the world right for them. I believe I can.

***

What next? Where do we go from here?

We need to keep standing up. We need to keep SPEAKING up. If you agree, share these posts. Post them on message boards, post them on Facebook, send them to your local news. Or write your own and share them here. Or on Facebook. Or wherever you feel most comfortable. Share your own mothering story. How did you fight the battle to become the mother your baby(ies) needed?

Write to Ellen. Write to Oprah. Write to NPR or Good Morning America or whoever you think has influence.

Stand. Speak. Don't stop.

If it were men who could breast feed, I'm not sure we'd even be having a conversation.

And that's really the issue here.

Because if men could breast feed, I think we'd have special massage chairs in every public establishment in the US for men to get comfortable while they sustain the next generation and laud breast milk as the global super-food.

I'm a feminist. I'm shocked by how many people are scared of that term. It scares me that so many people are scared of that term.

Things aren't equal, my friends. Sure, we've come a long way from the days of burning women at the stake. Right? But even if that is true, we haven't arrived at some mecca of gender equality. Far from it.

Women in the US are still earning on average about 20% less than their male counterparts. And there are organizations that are outraged by this - great organizations like the National Organization for Women who have been fighting the good fight for a long time. But what about the collective masses. Where are we? Have we forgotten that we can change things?

One of every four women in the United States experiences domestic violence in her lifetime. One. Out. Of. FOUR. Do you have a daughter? A mother? A sister? A friend? Look around you.

I'm not simply angry at Facebook. I'm angry that Facebook has the opportunity, as a powerful social utility, to contribute to gender equality and a better world. But Facebook is acting like a bunch of juvenile frat brothers and doing what has been done throughout the ages - continuing the marginalization of women and women's contributions to society by dosing out patriarchy in teensy, palatable doses.

I was nauseous watching this year's Superbowl ads. The Dodge Charger, amping men up to believe that they are repressed by women - Dockers chanting at men to start wearing the pants again...and I say come on already, America! In a world where patriarchy still reigns supreme - where we go to war and send our children to war, where there is rape and battery and child abuse around every other street corner, isn't enough finally enough?

Whether it's the big-deal issues like the wage gap or the "smaller" issues like Facebook removing pictures of breastfeeding mothers, we need to start standing up. We need to start speaking up. It is these issues, large and small, that work together to create a world where we are so programmed to find gender inequality palatable that we don't say anything.

And that would be scary, if we said something. If we all stood up and said something. Because change is scary. People don't like change. And if we stood up, one by one, stood together, and said "ENOUGH!" things might actually start to move in that scary, changing direction.

Stand up. Please. Stand up.

Defense.

Most US states have laws protecting a breastfeeding mother's right to feed her child in public. And last time I checked, the entire nation was protected by a tiny little concept we call freedom of speech.

Apparently Facebook is above these ideals. Apparently Facebook is really quite invested in making sure that the images we see of women are sexualized rather than celebratory.

I'm told that Facebook has blocked the link to my post "Offense." (Update at 8:00pm EST...am told that people are now able to link to it again.) It was reported as violating the terms of use for Facebook. Funny. Because I reported every truly offensive picture included in that post and when I checked one minute ago, they are all still up on Facebook.

But I get it. Facebook is a private entity and they make their own rules. That doesn't mean their rules are right.

Not only is Facebook treating women in a misogynistic manner, apparently they're quite terrified of free speech as well.

Facebook, you're wrong. And the 6,700 + people who have visited my blog today seem to agree with me.

I'm not stopping here.

(And if you want to link to this post, please feel free. You can do so by copying the blog URL of http://eclecticeffervescence.blogspot.com/, this post URL of http://eclecticeffervescence.blogspot.com/2010/03/defense.html or my original letter to Facebook at http://eclecticeffervescence.blogspot.com/2010/02/open-letter-to-facebook.html.

Linking to my post from yesterday, http://eclecticeffervescence.blogspot.com/2010/03/offense.html, may or may not be allowed on Facebook.)

Offense.

Facebook hasn't written back.

And Ellen hasn't called and said "yes! I will do a show on breastfeeding and fill my audience with lactating mamas who I will shower with lanolin cream and fancy nursing bras. Yes!" Oprah hasn't called either. And Tyra hasn't. And NPR hasn't. And my local news station hasn't.

And you know what? I think they're missing out on an opportunity. Because this image is still on Facebook, as the profile pic for the Big Boobs application, which has 55,842 monthly users:

And this image is still on Facebook, as the profile pic for the "Tits" application with 12, 260 monthly users:

And this image is still on Facebook, the profile pic for the "T i t s" fan page, with 1,863 fans:

And this image is still on Facebook, the profile pic for the group "Titties" with 580 members:

And I'd like to say I'm surprised. Because Facebook has a policy against sexually offensive material. And given the context of each of these pictures, I'd call them pretty damn sexually offensive. So I reported them. Each and every one. And included my letter to Facebook as my comment for each one. No response. No removal of the pictures.

But you know what picture Facebook did remove?

This one. Originally posted on the "Hey Facebook, breastfeeding is NOT obscene" group, with 258,448 members.

Here, where, after three years of infertility and a traumatic and pre-term birth, I finally tandem nursed my babies successfully for the first time. Facebook told me this picture was offensive. And warned me that they will delete my account if I continue to break the rules.

Hey Facebook?

Fuck you.

An open letter to Facebook

Dear Facebook,

Last year, you were hard at work as the world's largest social networking site. You have created a space for people to communicate, waste time playing mindless games, raise money for important causes, become the recipient of endless marketing scams, connect with long lost friends and loved ones, and send one another virtual gifts such as flowers, drinks, even sets of voluptuous female breasts.

While you were entertaining the virtual masses, I (along with millions of other women around the world!) was busy creating and nourishing human life. Not just one life, but two. That's right, Facebook. I grew two tiny people inside my womb, birthed them, almost died in the process, and then set my own needs aside to carry out the grave responsibility of sustaining those lives by creating nutritionally perfect food within my body and feeding it to them using my (GASP!) breasts. That's right, Facebook. I had twins and breastfed. In fact, I'm still breastfeeding. Isn't that amazing? I think it is. The World Health Organization (WHO) agrees with me. This is what the WHO has to say about breastfeeding:

Over the past decades, evidence for the health advantages of breastfeeding and recommendations for practice have continued to increase. WHO can now say with full confidence that breastfeeding reduces child mortality and has health benefits that extend into adulthood. On a population basis, exclusive breastfeeding for the first six months of life is the recommended way of feeding infants, followed by continued breastfeeding with appropriate complementary foods for up to two years or beyond.

To enable mothers to establish and sustain exclusive breastfeeding for six months, WHO and UNICEF recommend:

• Initiation of breastfeeding within the first hour of life;
• Exclusive breastfeeding - that is, the infant only receives breast milk without any additional food or drink, not even water;
• Breastfeeding on demand - that is, as often as the child wants, day and night;
• No use of bottles, teats or pacifiers.

Breast milk is the natural first food for babies, it provides all the energy and nutrients that the infant needs for the first months of life, and it continues to provide up to half or more of a child’s nutritional needs during the second half of the first year, and up to one-third during the second year of life.

Breast milk promotes sensory and cognitive development, and protects the infant against infectious and chronic diseases. Exclusive breastfeeding reduces infant mortality due to common childhood illnesses such as diarrhoea or pneumonia, and helps for a quicker recovery during illness.

Breastfeeding contributes to the health and well-being of mothers, it helps to space children, reduces the risk of ovarian cancer and breast cancer, increases family and national resources, is a secure way of feeding and is safe for the environment.

While breastfeeding is a natural act, it is also a learned behaviour. An extensive body of research has demonstrated that mothers and other caregivers require active support for establishing and sustaining appropriate breastfeeding practices.

Did you know that, Facebook?

And here's what I have to say about breastfeeding:

Breastfeeding mothers are responsible for the continuation of humanity. It is because of women who breastfeed that YOU, yes YOU, are alive today. Even if your mother did not breastfeed. Even if her mother did not breastfeed. And even if hers didn't. At some point in history, millions of women made the beautiful and giving decision to breastfeed so that humankind could continue. Women who breastfeed are heroes.

Did you know that, Facebook?

Did you know that breastfeeding is really hard? That it can be quite painful to have a small being suck on your flesh for hours each day? That overcoming the social stigma in patriarchal countries like the United States is a brave and admirable act? For some silly reason, millions of women have been taught that our biggest value comes from our sexuality. Isn't that weird? Considering that women have the ability to create, birth, and sustain life, it seems awfully skewed that we would be systematically taught to believe that we are worthless unless we are beautiful and highly sexualized. But you see, Facebook, that's exactly what patriarchy does. It marginalizes the contributions of women. How shameful. How ignorant. How embarrassing.

Remember how humanity continues because of women?

Why am I sending this to you, Facebook?

Last week, I posted a picture of myself breastfeeding my newborn twins using my Facebook account. I posted this picture to a pro-breastfeeding fan page, to help encourage other mothers. My picture was one of thousands uploaded to the page. What a beautiful site. All of these experienced breastfeeding women, supporting each other. Helping to say, "breastfeeding is normal!" "Breastfeeding is beautiful!" It really is an amazing page.

But you took that picture down. You took hundreds of pictures down. You told me my picture is offensive. Inappropriate for children.

You know what I find offensive? The "Big Boobs" application that lets users send each other cartoon drawings of over-sexualized breasts. And the many "boobs" fan pages created by ignorant minded people who devalue women and their beautiful and amazing abilities. And the YoVille advertisement that assures me that I can look fantastic in my virtual bikini this year even if my real bikini looks terrible. And the many females showing ample cleavage in thousands of pictures where they're too drunk to know better. Facebook, I could go on and on.

Facebook, you're powerful. You have over 400 million users around the globe. Is this how you choose to hold this power? Are you afraid to take a stand against the oppression of women? Do you really devalue women this much? Do strong women make you feel threatened?

Or are you better than that? Braver?

I spent this last year putting forth every effort of my being to make this world a better place. I contributed two beautiful children. My first and last priority in life is helping them become amazing and happy people in every way I know how.

And so, Facebook, I wonder. I really wonder. What did you do last year?

Four.

We have four frozen embryos.

The leftovers.

The ones that weren't chosen. If the doctors had chosen differently, Rhys or Quin could be neatly preserved in a medical freezer in Boston right now, instead of playing happily on our living room floor.

At first I was thrilled with our four frozen embryos. I felt so lucky - to suddenly be pregnant with twins AND have four more embryos sitting quietly in wait should we need them.

And now the thought sickens me. Haunts me.

My four little embryos. Waiting. With uncertain futures.

I am a card holding member of the National Organization for Women. I will always stand up for, support, and believe in a woman's right to choose. I hate the way pro-lifers make the right to choose about something other than a most basic human right. They make it about "when life begins" and the "rights" of a fetus. Or an embryo.

It's not the pro-lifers who have gotten to me. I don't care what they think about infertility or infertility treatments or frozen embryos. But I have gotten to me. The mother that I have become has gotten to me.

When we chose to freeze them - or back this up even more - when we chose to create them or maybe have them created for us, I understood what we were doing. What I didn't understand was how it feels to be a mother, or the painful pull of the love I would feel for my children.

I feel that painful pull for our embryos.

I let my mind go all of the places that logic tells me not to go. I wonder about the children they might be. Would they coo like Quin? Give big open mouthed kisses like Rhys? Or have their own endearing traits to make me fall helplessly in love? Do they have souls yet? When does that happen, that an embryo, a fetus, a baby grows a soul? Why do I sound like I should be standing outside of an abortion clinic thumping my bible?

We don't know if we want any more children.

And if we do want more children, maybe we would want to see if it could happen without medical intervention this time.

But what about our embryos?

I consider donating them to "the right" couple. And believe almost immediately that I love them too much to chance that. To chance that they wouldn't be loved enough, or that I couldn't live knowing they were out there, mine but not mine.

I consider how selfish it would be to try and have a baby "naturally" when we have four we already started just sitting there waiting for us. I consider what that would say to Rhys and Quin about how they came into this world.

I watch Rhys and Quin play. I listen to them babble together. I look into their big blue eyes and am awed by their simple innocence. Behind the love is a layer of guilt.

Four embryos, waiting.

What this feminist looks like.

My mother is mad at feminism.  

While this is somewhat troubling to me as a feminist, I can't say I blame her.  For better or for worse, sometimes one bad experience is enough to sour us on something that is otherwise wonderful.  My mother happened to become a mother in the midst of the second wave of feminism, when women were divided over whether to choose mothering or to choose career.  Her children grew up in the midst of debate over "superwoman syndrome" as women attempted to re-forge the divide between work and family and "have it all."  My mom spent time in both camps.  As small children, we were lucky to have her at home with us.  As we grew older, she went back to school, got her Masters degree in education, and went to work a second job (the first being mother) as a teacher.  I know that all of these decisions were difficult and the result of careful thought.  I know that no decision was without sacrifice.  So I can understand why this woman, very much a feminist herself, was hurt when the implications came that women who stayed at home to mother were doing a disservice to women by leaving the workforce.

As a proud third-wave feminist, I know that whether she identifies as one or not, my mother is still very much a feminist.  I've tried to explain this to her.  I've encouraged her to make up with feminism - to cozy up with a nice glass of Cab and Manifesta or to hang out at  http://www.3rdwwwave.com/ and see for herself that things have changed.  

But doesn't this point out that beyond the obvious work that still needs to be done, feminism needs to reach out and make amends?  Toes were stepped on in the getting to today - and crushed toes aren't likely to go running back for more.  Feminism needs to reach out and make up.  As a mom to two sweet boys, both future feminists, I have a role to play here.  All feminists have a role to play here.  The third wave is fabulous - all third wavers (and hopefully most feminists) know this.  But me knowing that I'm great only takes me so far.  At some point, I need others to recognize it, too.

One of my favorite shirts is one that says, "This is what a feminist looks like."  Shouldn't all feminists make a pact to wear this slogan once a month, all on the same day?  I've had this shirt since my college days as a member of my school's Feminist Collective group.  Back then, my favorite way to wear it was with a mini skirt, killer heels, and some trashy makeup.  A few years out of school, it became my favorite shirt for chores around the house; a second and equally important manifestation of my feminist identity.  Eventually, paint stains rendered it inappropriate for anything other than manual labor and trips to the hardware store.  

As a mother, my "what a feminist looks like" shirt has come into use again.  Clothes designed to make breastfeeding convenient and discrete do no favors for women, in my opinion.  Don't we want to make breastfeeding at least a little bit obvious?  Is it so shameful that it must be covered up by matronly dresses with discrete flaps for ever so careful latch-ons? And let's not discuss the inequalities of cost associated with nursing wear.  Shouldn't clothing with holes cost less?  Isn't it bad enough that women pay more for clothes than men?  With nursing wear, aren't we just financially sticking it to breastfeeding mothers a second time over?

I decided to design my own clothes for breastfeeding.  Out from the bottom of my drawer came my feminist shirt.  With a pair of dull kitchen shears, I cut a ragged hole over each boob for easy access.  I was quite satisfied to find that my craftiness didn't require cutting over any of the text. So now my shirt reads: (boob) "This is what a feminist looks like" (boob).  And since I burned all my bras, all I have to do is layer a shirt on top, and when it's time to nurse, I have an easy access, ready to go, insta-meal.

A baby on each boob, paint stains on my shirt.  That's what this feminist is looking like these days.