Gwendolyn Beetham,
"Assisted Reproduction as a Queer Thing"
(page 2 of 4)
Queered by Infertility?
Judging from the accounts I found, there seems to be a particular
difficulty in recognizing (or at least writing about) ART from a
critical perspective among people who, were they not infertile, are the
"ideal" parents in dominant culture: heterosexual, economically
comfortable, and white. In fact, "privileged" users who take seriously
the political implications of reproductive technologies do exist.
Though few and far between, I did come across explicitly feminist takes
on infertility and the use of reproductive technologies in the
heterosexual context. Amelia Jones,[2]
Meisha Rosenberg,[3] and the
blog
"Infertile
Revolution"[4]
are notable for recognizing the
biological imperatives and normative assumptions that structure the use
of ART, while simultaneously challenging stereotypical portrayals of
infertility in the public imaginary. "Infertile Revolution," authored
by a heterosexually partnered woman using ART to try to conceive,
connects the use of reproductive technologies to the larger political
economy of reproduction, delving in to issues of sexuality, race, and
class, including access to ARTs by low-income
individuals,[5] the
eugenic implications of Israel's IVF policy, and the racist undertones
of the current U.S. immigration debate's account of reproduction.
Jones begins her article acknowledging the above, stating that she
is "well acquainted with the huge ethical, social and individual
problems connected with the discourse of infertility and the industry it
has spawned," but goes on to describe how, despite such knowledge, she
"found herself caught in the throes of the most normative kinds of
desire for children in the face of extended difficulties with
infertility." Rosenberg is similarly "stunned" by her "own deep desire
to be a mother"—an interesting twist on the language of shock and
surprise used by heterosexual men and women who discover themselves to
be infertile. Despite her difficult relationship with her own use of
ARTs, Rosenberg is disturbed by the "barren-woman stigma" that continues
to prevail in popular culture, and sees the infertility blogosphere as a
space with the potential to dismantle these archetypes.
It is perhaps the case that justice issues are easier to skirt in the
context of discourse that frames reproduction—especially for
women—as a "biological imperative." Because they resist the "biological
imperative" frame, critiques like those from Jones and Rosenberg, which
focus on issues that are less directly related to justice, such as
concerns about commodification of life, may nonetheless open up more
ground for taking justice claims seriously, or for weighing them more
heavily against one's own deeply felt, and normatively-shaped, desires
for reproduction and parenting. For example, Jones argues against
"defining our medical problem as purely biological" and therefore
"surrender[ing] to a highly technologized medical industry." Instead,
she and Rosenberg (and their blogger counterpart) are able to recognize
the "inextricable and complex mixture of psyche and body" that governs
our understandings and desires. These recognitions are present in the
authors' nuanced accounts of ART, which blend their personal experiences
into the bigger political picture, intersecting the personal with the
political. As Jones states in the conclusion of her piece: "Those who
have infertility problems must recognize at every step our participation
in [the] commodification [of human life] and continually work to keep
our bodies fully attached to our minds."
Accounts by single women who use ARTs tend, more often than those of
their coupled counterparts, to recognize some of the thornier aspects of
reproductive technologies, such as the eugenics implications of choosing
donor sperm, and the inequalities inherent in adoption laws and health
insurance policies. Partly, this is out of necessity—adoptions are
often restrictive for single parents (gay and straight), and health
insurance policies in some contexts are tied to a definition of
infertility that requires a heterosexual couple to have tried to
conceive for a year. Additionally, while eugenics has played a key role
in the selection of sperm donors for heterosexual married couples since
the AI method was developed,[6]
the "eugenics" assumptions involved in
sperm selection for single women using donor sperm may be more apparent.
Take Fischel's description of the complicated and contradictory process
of sperm selection:
My parents are holocaust survivors so the genetic
engineering part of choosing felt particularly weird to me. Apparently
tall, blonde donors are in high demand, and you have to pay extra for a
donor with a PhD. I think we all want smart kids, but I don't really
believe intelligence is mainly genetic. I actually find that idea and
its implications a little terrifying. I think I just assumed my kids would
be smart because they'd be raised in a house where people were talking
to them and where they would be exposed to different ideas and
experiences. That said, I do think looks and athletic ability are
genetic, and I was clear that a donor having a history of mental illness
wasn't a risk I was willing to take, even though I wasn't sure of a
genetic link. I felt embarrassed about it, but I also felt like, if I'm
going to pick, I'm going to pick someone who is good looking and
athletic (because we're kind of klutzy in my family).
Still, at least in written accounts, it is not easy to find
recognition of the problematic assumptions that are often folded into
the choice of sperm donor. One woman profiled in an article in The
New York Times described her "ability to select a 6-foot-2 blond,
blue-eyed, genetic-disease-free donor as some consolation for not
getting to fall in love with someone who would most likely have been
more flawed."[7]
Recounting the processes of several single women's
selections of donor sperm, journalist Jennifer Egan describes one
African-American woman who "wanted a Latino donor so that her child
would have lighter skin and nonkinky hair;" a Jewish woman who,
frustrated with the small selection of Jewish donors, who she described
as "balding or their grandmother was diabetic and had heart disease,"
ends up going with a 6-foot-2 Catholic donor with blond hair and blue
eyes; and a white German woman who "believes in multiculturalism" and in
"improving the healthiness of the race" by selecting a donor of a
different racial background.[8]
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