A Virgin's Visit to Planned Parenthood

Before I left New York, I had one last very important thing to do: make an appointment at Planned Parenthoodfor a pap smear, a pelvic exam, and, most importantly, a prescription for birth control.

I've mentioned this need for the Pill before, way back in September. But changing pharmacies and states meant I couldn't transfer my prescription, so I had one blissful month on the Pill, with minimal cramps, before I returned to my normal debilitating pain. To get a new prescription required seeing a doctor, but I hate going to the doctor, and I was scared about facing my first gynecological exam. I kept putting it off, hoping my cramps would lessen each month, but they never did. So finally, the week before I moved to Toronto, I called Planned Parenthood and scheduled an appointment.

I have health insurance, but my network only includes doctors in my home state, except in the case of emergencies. Luckily for me, Planned Parenthood charges the uninsured based on our income. Unluckily for me, I still paid about half of what I earn in a week (well, half of what I earned before I received my raise for moving to Toronto).

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. Protesters waving brochures in my face, calling me a murderess, throwing pig's blood on my car? I've seen video footage and read firsthand accounts of how far extremists have gone outside clinics.

I was prepared, though. I was all ready to put on my most virginal smile and clasp my hands together as if in prayer. I envisioned myself approaching the protesters spewing hate and responding with a call to prayer. Then whilst praying, thank the Lord for blessing me with the strength to remain chaste and the opportunity to find like-minded individuals on my way to see a doctor. Spout off some drivel about Paul's call to singledom and virginity before praising the people around me for also remaining pure virgins as God intends. I was going to end with a plea that the doctors find something to relieve me of my monthly burden as it leaves me bedridden and unable to do God's work for two days every month.

(Un)fortunately, there were no protesters. So I'll have to save my shaming speech prayerful reproach for another time.

The first thing I noticed in the clinic was an overwhelming sense of sadness. I don't know what I was expecting, but not this. Sterile. Bare. Faded outdated posters on the walls. Signs in English and Spanish. Near silence in the waiting room, with just the drone of the television in the background. Mostly women, alone. An unsmiling teenage couple. Brusque receptionists.

Even though there weren't that many women there, I waited more than an hour past my appointment time, despite being 15 minutes early. Finally I spoke with a woman who took my medical history and confirmed the purpose of my appointment.

This was probably my favorite part, which I know sounds weird. Bear with me here.

Her reaction when I said I was a virgin was priceless. I could've knocked her over with a feather. I strongly had the feeling that none of her patients had ever confessed to being virgins before. And when she said, “Why were you so shy about it? It's nothing to be ashamed of!” (because when asking me my sexual history, I said sexually active, but not having intercourse at the moment... don't oral sex & mutual masturbation count as active?), I quickly reassured her that I wasn't. I was tempted to explain that I actually broadcast my virginity online via my blog and twitter, but instead I just said that the boyfriend and I are both waiting for marriage.

This segued into a line of questioning I've never received before, and even if it was unnecessary for me, I really admired Planned Parenthood's commitment to women's health and well-being. She started asking me about my relationship. First just casual questions, like how we met and how long we've been dating. Then slightly more personal questions, like how serious we were. Finally, the point of the inquiry: how did he treat me? Did he ever hit me? Did he ever threaten me? Several very specific questions to see if I'd ever been abused.

Obviously, the boyfriend treats me like [insert nerdy more rare than platinum metal here]. He would never hurt me, and he would do anything to protect me.

But that's not true for all men. Some men are abusive. I really appreciated that at Planned Parenthood, those questions were included as part of my medical history.

So this led to the actual exam and the discussion on how necessary a pap smear and pelvic exam were for a virgin.

Confession: I had never had a gynecological exam of any sort before, mainly because I was terrified. Technically women should start having them right before they start having sex or when they turn 21. If you turn 21 and you're not having sex, it's strongly encouraged, but not completely necessary. So I kept putting it off. But since my below-the-waist action is no longer strictly solo, I figured I should face my fears for the sake of my health.

I met the doctor who would be examining me. She said I didn't have to have a pap smear and pelvic exam that day since I was a virgin, but I should get one within a few months regardless. I agreed to it, and the other woman led me to a room. She took pity on my clearly terrified and ignorant self, and she told me everything I could expect. She then left the room so I could strip naked except for my socks (oh, hey, just like skype sex!) and put on a paper gown (not like skype sex).

The doctor returned and very kindly narrated everything as she went along. Not to insult the intelligence of most doctors (and dentists, for that matter), but I'm not sure they know the dictionary definitions of “pain” and “pressure.” Whenever a medical professional warns me, “You'll feel a little pressure,” I prepare myself for a hell of a lot of pain. The pap smear was no exception. Holy shit, that hurt. But it was over really fast. The pelvic exam hurt too, but not as much, and it was even faster. Then a quick breast exam, which is more about teaching me to do self monthly exams than anything else. Then, finally, I was done!

I don't have the receipt handy, unfortunately, so I can't break down the costs of everything for y'all. But the real cost of my appointment was much much more than what they charged me.

Which leads to my little PSA for today.

If you're pro-choice, rock on.

If you're pro-life, I beg of you to do some research and not just listen to the media and the pulpit. I'm a virgin who needed birth control and a gynecological exam. I have health insurance, but it doesn't cover routine exams out-of-state. I had no where else to turn. Planned Parenthood offered the services I needed, at a discounted price based on my income. It is not right for you or our government to dictate what sort of health services I can and cannot have. When the government restricts centers who offer abortion services, regardless of the other services offered, all women suffer, not just ones who seek an abortion.

Oh, and in case any Rush Limbaugh supporters are reading this...

I take birth control, but I am NOT a slut.

Why I'm a Feminist (Part One): Childhood Observations

I've been a feminist for as long as I can remember. I became a feminist at such a young age that I didn't even know what a feminist was. I didn't know there were adults out there who understood how I felt, adults who agreed with me, adults who had paved the way for me to notice gender inequality at a young age.

I realize this sounds dubious. But little kids notice their environment and react to it, even if they can't yet articulate what they're feeling inside. And when you have a twin brother, you notice when people treat you differently, especially since my parents did their best to raise us equally.

In no particular order, these are the things I noticed between second and fifth grade. (I'm choosing to start with the second grade because that was my first year living in the South; my family moved during the summer).

• I read every single biography my school library offered in the Childhood of Famous Americans series. I read about revolutionary patriots, from Crispus Attucks to Paul Revere to Patrick Henry. I learned about famous athletes, from Babe Ruth to Lou Gehrig, from Jesse Owens to Jackie Robinson. I discovered great presidents, from George Washington to Thomas Jefferson, from Franklin D. Roosevelt to John F. Kennedy. Yet the only women in my library's collection were Martha Washington, Molly Pitcher, Betsy Ross, Clara Barton, and Helen Keller.
• I didn't understand why there were so few male teachers at my school (two at the peak; then just one).
• When I was eight, my career goal was to be the first woman president. When I was ten, I decided the president is too scrutinized by the public, so I wanted to be a Congresswoman instead.
• I thought my friends were silly when they would doodle Mrs. Crush's Name on their notebooks. 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
• I liked Jo best in Little Women. Although I felt sorry for Laurie when she refused his proposal, I totally understood her. I thought Amy was stupid and annoying.
• One of my favorite books was Girls to the Rescue. I read it over and over and over.
• I also loved The Boys Start the War and its sequels. Finally a book with interesting boys AND girls!
  
  
  
  
  
• I didn't understand why Pocahontas’s father could choose who she married.
• I asked my parents why all of the elders and most of the deacons in my church were men. They told me that our church didn't allow women to be elders, and previously didn't allow women to be deacons. I was shocked.
• I also asked why we called God He. I understood that Jesus was a man, but wasn't God bigger than men and women?
• I felt sorry for boys because they couldn't wear dresses and skirts, but I could wear pants and shorts. I thought their wardrobe choices were limited.
• I felt babied by my paternal grandmother. One time I pointed this out to Daddy. I asked if she forgot I was the same age as H because I was so much smaller. Daddy said older people had different ideas about the abilities of boys and girls, ideas that were wrong but hard to change.
• I thought it was weird that brides always wore white. Why didn't they want to wear their favorite color? I told my parents that when I got married, my dress was going to be every color in the rainbow.
• My parents taught H and me all the same chores. We both helped Daddy clean the pool in the summer and rake the leaves in the fall. We both helped Mom deadhead flowers and pull weeds in the garden. We both helped both our parents with the laundry and the dishes.

So I think you can see how the feminist seed was planted early on. I noticed and disliked the limited number of biographies that featured women. I noticed our nation's lack of women in politics, so I decided to change that myself. My favorite books featured strong female characters. I thought the two women I most admired in my church deserved the same sort of leadership roles their husbands had as elders.

Did I know how to articulate this as a desire for gender equality? Of course not. Did I have any idea that my thoughts and observations were unusual in American society, especially for my age? Not a clue. I thought that people who believed I couldn't or shouldn't do something because I was a girl were either stupid, uninformed, or old-fashioned (like my grandmother). Oh, hey, I still think that!

So why am I feminist? My parents are an example that we've achieved it, right? Gender equality in parenting, woohoo! Yeah, my parents did an AWESOME job raising us. I truly believed I could grow up to be whatever I wanted as long as I was willing to work hard for it.

But what about all those other influences? My school, with its piddling selection of biographies on strong women. My church, which continues to bar women from ordained positions (although women now outnumber men in the diaconate). Washington, D.C., with its line of male presidents and its tiny number of women in Congress.

This is why I'm a feminist. Because little girls are still socialized today to do “girl” things and avoid “boy” things. Because they still lack strong female role models. Because they are still told, either directly or indirectly, that they are not as good as boys.

I want better for my son and daughter one day.

This is why I'm a feminist.