Roundups Media

Global Roundup: Victory for Aung San Suu Kyi; Tracking Real-Time Rape in Syria

Jessica Mack

Weekly global roundup: Burmese democracy activist wins historic Parliament seat; the UN investigates honor killings in India; Open source rape tracking in Syria; and female condoms make a comeback in Nigeria.

Welcome to our new Weekly Global Reproductive Justice Roundup! Each week, reporter Jessica Mack will summarize reproductive and sexual health and justice news from around the world.  We will still report in depth on some of these stories, but we want to make sure you get a sense of the rest and the best.

In Myanmar, a Win for Women and for Democracy

Aung San Suu Kyi, an embattled democracy activist who spent more than two decades under house arrest, has won a groundbreaking election for a seat in Parliament. Her party, the National League for Democracy (NLD), says it is on track to win 44 of the 45 seats in Parliament this week, signaling that while much work is left to be done, the wheels of democracy are once again turning in Myanmar. Suu Kyi is a pivotal figure in democracy, human rights, and women’s leadership. The daughter of a democracy activist, she won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991 and spent decades being watched, threatened, and oppressed by Burma’s military regime. Her husband, Michael Aris, died of prostate cancer in 1999. The Burmese Government refused to grant him entry before his death to visit Suu Kyi, who was on house arrest at the time. Although they agreed to let her leave to visit him, she felt sure it was a ploy to keep her out of the country and ultimately decided to stay. She said Aris had “sacrificed the companionship of his beloved wife for 10 years so that she could stand with her people in Burma to struggle for human rights and democracy.” Her story is phenomenal and it’s not over yet. Suu Kyi calls the latest elections “a step towards step one in democracy,” but it’s a step nonetheless. If you think Suu Kyi should be on the 2012 Time 100, you can vote for her here. Via Al Jazeera.

UN Opens Inquiry into Honor Killings in India

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The UN Special Rapporteur on extrajudicial, summary or arbitrary executions, South African Christof Heyns, completed a two-week trip to India where he investigated the persistence of “honor killings” of women in the country. Heyns visited five regions, including far flung Kashmir, which has harbored tensions for decades, and will submit his findings to the UN Human Rights Council next year. Women in India remain at risk for “honor killings” and abuse at the hands of relatives for a range of reasons, including dowry disagreements, rape retribution, or general dissatisfaction. These crimes are rarely pursued or prosecuted because they are “socially sanctioned,” advocates say. The UN estimates that 5,000 women a year fall victim to these sanctioned killings. The issue is not confined to India; the practice is echoed elsewhere in the world and with the movement of people, has become a burgeoning issue in the US, Canada, and Europe. In January, three members of a Canadian-Afghan family were convicted of first degree murder for the “honor killing” of three daughters and the husband’s first wife. In 2010, the death of an Iraqi American teen in Arizona brought the issue home to the US. As straightforwardly gruesome as they seem, and oftentimes are, “honor killings” are a complex outcome with a diversity of underlying factors often misrepresented or misunderstood. Read six perspectives on the issue from leaders in the Muslim and Hindu communities here. Via TrustLaw.

Tracking Real-Time Rape in Syria

Just two months after launching, the women’s rights watch dog Women Under Siege, unveiled an innovative and interactive effort to combat rape in real-time. As conflict continues to unfold in Syria, the group has launched an open  source crowd map enabling victims of rape to identify where and that the event happened. Rape in conflict is rarely covered in full during conflict, but more often profiled after the fact. That sexual violence is both a strategy and outcome of war is not particularly novel, but renewed efforts to elevate this fact in the mainstream, and target this reality as it unfolds, very much is. That’s what Women Under Siege is doing. “We so often have to gather this information after the fact, after so much of it is lost, so anything we can do to get this information out can only help women,” said director Lauren Wolfe. The map serves as both an online and public electronic witness, and lets victims know they are not alone. The effort elevates rape to the urgency of all other civilian causalities in conflict settings, and could serve as a model for tracking other aspects of war as it unravels. Via Mother Jones.

In Nigeria, Female Condoms Offer Hope for an Abysmal Contraceptive Usage Rate

Stakeholders met recently to discuss progress on the Universal Access to Female Condoms (UAFC) Program in Nigeria, a countrywide effort to increase awareness and use of female condoms among women. The project found that female condoms had a 61 percent acceptance rate in 2012, up from a 39 percent acceptance rate when awareness efforts began in 2008. Approximately 10% of women of reproductive age in Nigeria report modern contraceptive use – a dismal rate. Social taboos around contraceptive use, and logistical barriers, like cost, convenience, and supply stock outs, contribute to low usage in Nigeria and across Africa. While female condoms are rarely a favorite, they do offer women a singular option when it comes to woman-controlled barrier method, and HIV prevalence in the country remains high. Female condoms are a great idea in theory, but have been the butt of jokes for many – they are often uncomfortable, loud, or awkward to use. But recent efforts have produced better, sleeker, and sexier versions that could live up to the potential this protection method has. In November, at the 2011 International Conference on Family Planning, the UK’s development program announced five million pounds for female condoms, specifically. Via Vanguard.

Commentary Violence

This is Not The Story I Wanted—But It’s My Story of Rape

Dani Kelley

Writer Dani Kelley thought she had shed the patriarchal and self-denying lessons of her conservative religious childhood. But those teachings blocked her from initially admitting that an encounter with a man she met online was not a "date" that proved her sexual liberation, but an extended sexual assault.

Content note: This article contains graphic descriptions of sexual violence.

The night I first truly realized something was wrong was supposed to be a good night.

A visiting friend and I were in pajamas, eating breakfast food at 10 p.m., wrapped in blankets while swapping stories of recent struggles and laughs.

There I was, animatedly telling her about my recently acquired (and discarded) “fuck buddy,” when suddenly the story caught in my throat.

When I finally managed to choke out the words, they weren’t what I expected to say. “He—he held me down—until, until I couldn’t—breathe.”

Hearing myself say it out loud was a gut-punch. I was sobbing, gasping for breath, arms wrapped as if to hold myself together, spiraling into a terrifying realization.

This isn’t the story I wanted.

Unlearning My Training

I grew up in the Plymouth Brethren movement, a small fundamentalist Christian denomination that justifies strict gender roles through a literal approach to the Bible. So, according to 1 Corinthians 11:7, men are considered “the image and glory of God,” while women are merely “the glory of man.” As a result, women are expected to wear head coverings during any church service, among other restrictions that can be best summed up by the apostle Paul in 1 Timothy 2:11-12: Women are never allowed to have authority over men.

If you’ve spent any number of years in conservative Christianity like I did, you’re likely familiar with the fundamentalist tendency to demonize that which is morally neutral or positive (like premarital sex or civil rights) while sugar-coating negative experiences. The sugar-coating can be twofold: Biblical principles are often used to shame or gaslight abuse victims (like those being shunned or controlled or beaten by their husbands) while platitudes are often employed to help members cope with “the sufferings of this present time,” assuring them that these tragedies are “not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

In many ways, it’s easy to unlearn the demonization of humanity as you gain actual real-world experience refuting such flimsy claims. But the shame? That can be more difficult to shake.

The heart of those teachings isn’t only present in this admittedly small sect of Christianity. Rather, right-wing Western Christianity as a whole has a consent problem. It explicitly teaches its adherents they don’t belong to themselves at all. They belong to God (and if they’re not men, they belong to their fathers or husbands as well). This instilled lack of agency effectively erases bodily autonomy while preventing the development of healthy emotional and physical boundaries.

On top of that, the biblical literalism frequently required by conservative Christianity in the United States promotes a terrifying interpretation of Scripture, such as Jeremiah 17:9. The King James Version gives the verse a stern voice, telling us that “the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.” If we believe this, we must accept that we’re untrustworthy witnesses to our own lives. Yet somehow, we’re expected to rely on the authority of those the Bible deems worthy. People like all Christians, older people, and men.

Though I’ve abandoned Christianity and embraced feminist secular humanism, the culture in which I grew up and my short time at conservative Bob Jones University still affect how I view myself and act in social situations. The lessons of my formative years created a perfect storm of terrible indoctrination: gender roles that promoted repressed individuality for women while encouraging toxic masculinity, explicit teaching that led to constant second-guessing my ability to accurately understand my own life, and a biblical impetus to “rejoice in my suffering.”

Decades of training taught me I’m not allowed to set boundaries.

But Some Habits Die Hard

Here’s the thing. At almost 30, I’d never dated anyone other than my ex-husband. So I thought it was about time to change that.

When I found this man’s online profile, I was pleasantly surprised. It was full of the kind of geekery I’m into, even down to the specific affinity for eclectic music. I wrote to him, making sure my message and tone were casual. He responded instantly, full of charisma and charm. Within hours, we’d made plans to meet.

He was just as friendly and attentive in person. After wandering around town, window-shopping, and getting to know one another, he suggested we go to his favorite bar. As he drank (while I sipped water), he kept paying me compliments, slowly breaking the touch barrier. And honestly, I was enthralled—no one had paid attention to me like this in years.

When he suggested moving out to the car where we could be a little more intimate, I agreed. The rush of feeling desired was intoxicating. He seemed so focused on consent—asking permission before doing anything. Plus, he was quite straightforward about what he wanted, which I found exciting.

So…I brought him home.

This new and exciting “arrangement” lasted one week, during which we had very satisfying, attachment-free sex several times and after which we parted ways as friends.

That’s the story I told people. That’s the story I thought I believed. I’d been freed from the rigid expectations and restraints of my youth’s purity culture.

Now. You’re about to hear me say many things I know to be wrong. Many feminists or victim advocates almost certainly know the rationalizations and reactions I’m about to describe are both normal responses to abuse and a result of ingrained lies about sex in our culture. Not to mention evidence of the influence that right-wing conservatism can have on shaping self-actualization.

As I was telling people the story above, I left out important details. Were my omissions deliberate? An instinctive self-preservation mechanism? A carryover from draconian ideals about promiscuity?

When I broke down crying with my friend, I finally realized I’d kept quiet because I couldn’t bear to hear myself say what happened.

I’m a feminist, damn it. I left all the puritanical understandings of gender roles behind when I exited Christianity! I even write about social justice and victim advocacy. I ought to recognize rape culture!

Right?

If only being a socially aware feminist was enough to erase decades of socialization as a woman within rape culture—or provide inoculation against sexual violence.

That first night, once we got to my car, he stopped checking in with me. I dismissed the red flag as soon as I noticed it, telling myself he’d stop if I showed discomfort. Then he smacked my ass—hard. I pulled away, staring at him in shocked revulsion. “Sorry,” he replied, smirking.

He suggested that we go back to my house, saying we’d have more privacy than at his place. I was uneasy, unconvinced. But he began passionately kissing, groping, petting, and pleading. Against my better judgment, I relented.

Yet, in the seclusion of my home, there was no more asking. There was only telling.

Before I knew it, I’d been thrown on my back as he pulled off my clothes. I froze. The only coherent thought I could manage was a weak stammer, asking if he had a condom. He seemed agitated. “Are you on birth control?” That’s not the point! I thought, mechanically answering “yes.”

With a triumphant grin and no further discussion, he forced himself into me. Pleasure fought with growing panic as something within me screamed for things to slow down, to just stop. The sensation was familiar: identical to how I felt when raped as a child.

I frantically pushed him off and rolled away, hyperventilating. I muttered repeatedly, “I need a minute. Just give me a minute. I need a minute.”

“We’re not finished yet!” he snapped angrily. As he reached for me again, I screeched hysterically, “I’M NOT OK! I NEED A MINUTE!”

Suddenly, he was kind and caring. Instead of being alarmed, I was strangely grateful. So once I calmed down, I fucked him. More than once.

It was—I told myself—consensual. After all, he comforted me during a flashback. Didn’t I owe him that much?

Yet, if I didn’t do what he wanted, he’d forcefully smack my ass. If I didn’t seem happy enough, he’d insistently tell me to smile as he hit me again, harder. He seemed to relish the strained smile I would force on command.

I kept telling myself I was okay. Happy, even. Look at how liberated I was!

All week, I was either at his beck and call or fighting suicidal urges. Never having liked alcohol before, I started drinking heavily. I did all I could to minimize or ignore the abuse. Even with his last visit—as I fought to breathe while he forcefully held my head down during oral sex, effectively choking me—I initially told myself desperately that surely he wouldn’t do any of this on purpose.

The Stories We Tell and The Stories That Just Are

Reflecting on that week, I’m engulfed in shame. I’m a proud feminist. I know what coercion looks like. I know what rape looks like. I know it’s rarely a scary man wearing a ski mask in a back alley. I’ve heard all the victim-blaming rape apologia you have: that women make up rape when they regret consenting to sex, or going on a date means sex is in the cards, or bringing someone home means you’re game for anything.

Reality is, all of us have been socialized within a patriarchal system that clouds our experiences and ability to classify them. We’re told to tend and befriend the men who threaten us. De-escalation at any cost is the go-to response of almost any woman I’ve ever talked to about unwanted male attention. Whatever will satiate the beast and keep us safe.

On top of that, my conservative background whispered accusations of being a Jezebel, failing to safeguard my purity, and getting exactly what I deserve for forsaking the faith.

It’s all lies, of course. Our culture lies when it says that there are blurred lines when it comes to consent. It violates our personhood when it requires us to change the narrative of the violence enacted against us for their own comfort. Right-wing Christianity lies when it says we don’t belong to ourselves and must submit to the authority of a religion or a gender.

Nobody’s assaulted because they weren’t nice enough or because they “failed” to de-escalate. There’s nothing we can do to provoke such violence. Rape is never deserved. The responsibility for sexual assault lies entirely with those who attack us.

So why was the story I told during and after that ordeal so radically and fundamentally different from what actually happened? And why the hell did I think any of what happened was OK?

Rape myths are so ingrained in our cultural understanding of relationships that it was easier for me to believe nothing bad had happened than to accept the truth. I thought if I could only tell the story I wanted it to be, then maybe that’s what really happened. I thought if I was willing—if I kept having him over, if I did what he ordered, if I told my friends how wonderful it was—it would mean everything was fine. It would mean I wasn’t suffering from post-traumatic stress or anxiety about defying the conservative tenets of my former political and religious system.

Sometimes, we tell ourselves the stories we want to hear until we’re able to bear the stories of what actually happened.

We all have a right to say who has what kind of access to our bodies. A man’s masculinity gives him no authority over anyone’s sexual agency. A lack of a “no” doesn’t mean a “yes.” Coercion isn’t consent. Sexual acts performed without consent are assault. We have a right to tell our stories—our real stories.

So, while this isn’t the story I wanted, it’s the story that is.

I was raped.

Commentary Science

HPV Vaccines Are Working, So It’s Time to Stop Arguing About Them

Martha Kempner

A new study finds that HPV rates have plummeted in the last six years. Yet HPV vaccination rates continue to lag behind those of other vaccines, in part because of the stigma surrounding sexually transmitted infections.

According to a new study, human papilloma virus (HPV) rates have plummeted in the first six years vaccines against the virus have been available. Unfortunately, HPV vaccination rates lag behind those of other recommended inoculations, in part because of the stigma that stifles conversations around sexually transmitted infections.

Perhaps these new success rates—coupled with additional new research that reminds us of the possibility of non-sexual HPV transmission—will convince more parents to take advantage of this potentially life-saving vaccine.

HPV is actually a group of more than 150 related viruses, 40 of which are known to be sexually transmitted. Most types of the virus are thought of as low-risk, because they are unlikely to cause health problems. Nine types, however, have been identified as high-risk and are thought to be responsible for 99 percent of cervical cancers and a large portion of vulvar, vaginal, penile, anal, and oropharyngeal (a part of the throat) cancers.

Since 2006, there have been three vaccines against HPV developed and released on the market. The most recent, made available last year, was the most wide-ranging; it protects against the nine high-risk types of the virus.

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The vaccine is given as a series of three shots over eight months. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) recommends that boys and girls begin the series at age 11 or 12 in order to be sure that they are fully vaccinated before they become sexually active, but those who do not get the shots at that time can get them at any point before age 26. Experts estimate that widespread vaccination could prevent up to 90 percent of cases of cervical, anal, and genital cancer.

Though the research released last month uses data collected before the latest vaccine was available, the success of the original vaccine supports an optimistic outlook for the future prevention of HPV.

For the new study, which was published in the journal Pediatrics, researchers used data from the CDC’s National Health and Nutrition Examinations Survey (NHANES). They compared cervical and vaginal specimens from individuals ages 14-to-34 collected between 2003 and 2006—before the vaccine was available—with samples collected between 2009 and 2012, after the first vaccine was in use. They also used vaccination records from the latter group.

They found that 11.5 percent of young women ages 14-to-19 in the pre-vaccine group had one of the four types of HPV covered by the original vaccine. This dropped to about 4 percent in the group examined after the vaccine was available. Among those ages 20-to-24, the prevalence rate dropped from 18.5 percent to roughly 12 percent. There was no change among the oldest age group.

Overall, the study concludes, within six years of the vaccine’s introduction, HPV rates were down 64 percent among teen girls and 34 percent among women in their 20s.

Dr. Laurie E. Markowitz, lead author of the study, told the Guardian that results were better than expected.“The fact that we are seeing a larger decrease overall than what we expect given our coverage rates does suggest there may be some herd protection,” which occurs when a large enough portion of the population is vaccinated to slow the spread of the virus, she said. “There also may be effectiveness from less than a complete three dose series,” Markowitz continued.

Researchers anticipate that more people will continue to benefit from the vaccines. Markowitz told the Guardian, “As women who got the vaccine when they were younger age move into these older age groups, we should continue to see a continued decrease,” because they will not transmit the strains to anyone else as they become sexually active.

In addition, vaccination rates have improved since this data was collected. In 2009, only about 44 percent of girls had received one dose of the vaccine and only about 27 percent had received all three. By 2014, two-thirds of teenage girls ages 17 and under had received at least one of the three recommended doses of the HPV vaccine, and about 40 percent had received all three doses.

The CDC recommends that boys get the HPV vaccine as well, but vaccinations rates among boys have always been lower than those among young women—perhaps because when the vaccine was originally introduced, it was only suggested for girls, or perhaps because it is best known for preventing cervical cancer. But vaccination rates for boys have been on the rise as well. In 2014, roughly 42 percent of teenage boys ages 17 and under had received at least one dose of the vaccine: about 8 percentage points higher than the year prior.

Unfortunately, HPV vaccination rates still lag behind those of other recommended vaccines. For comparison, in 2014, about eight in ten teens ages 17 and under had received the quadrivalent meningococcal conjugate vaccines and roughly 87 percent had received the Tdap vaccine, which covers tetanus, diphtheria, and pertussis.

There are a number of reasons that HPV vaccination rates might be lower than others, including the fact that only two states and Washington, D.C. require the vaccine for school-aged children. By contrast, the Tdap vaccine is required in most states; meningitis vaccines are required in about half. Additionally, some parents may not have the resources or time to take their children to get a series of three vaccinations.

Not surprisingly, there still exists a discomfort with the sexually transmitted nature of HPV. Since, the HPV vaccine was introduced, there have been those who argue that vaccination will be seen by teenage recipients as permission to have sex, thereby increasing their risky behavior. This faction also argues that it is not necessary to inoculate young people against HPV because they can easily avoid it by just not having sex.

Numerous studies have found that HPV vaccines do not, in fact, turn young people into sex machines. A study last year from the United Kingdom, for example, found girls who have been vaccinated are less likely to engage in risky sexual behavior than those who have not. An earlier study in the United States found that teen girls who had been vaccinated were more likely to use condoms than their non-vaccinated peers. Other studies have found that young people’s perception of sexual risk and risk behaviors do not change after vaccination.

Perhaps a new article will take the wind out of the sails of the argument that teens should “just say no” to prevent HPV. The paper, cleverly titled “Penises Not Required,” reviewed 51 studies that found evidence of transmission through means other than penile-vaginal or penile-anal intercourse. Some of the studies reviewed found HPV DNA in the genital tract of female “virgins”—though the definitions of “virgin” varied widely among studies, and were based on respondents’ self-reported sexual activity. Other studies found HPV DNA in children who had not been sexually abused. Some studies focused on evidence of HPV DNA on medical equipment, toilet seats, and sex toys, and questioned whether this would be sufficient to transmit the virus. And others suggested the possibility of finger-to-genital transmission either from a partner or even from one’s own hands.

The researchers told Rewire in an email that their results have to be interpreted cautiously, as they do not provide proof of non-penetrative or non-sexual transmission. Nonetheless, the possibility that this virus can be transmitted without sex should help us rid the HPV vaccine debate of moralizing. As the researcher concludes in the article, “The distribution of HPV vaccines has been hindered, in part, by societal discomfort with the role of HPV in human sexuality. A fuller appreciation of the potential for non-sexual HPV transmission could help increase vaccine acceptance.”

The facts are simple. We have a vaccine that prevents cancer, it’s working, and that’s a major public health victory. It’s time to stop arguing about whether vaccinating kids against an STD is a good idea and start protecting everyone.