A young girl’s grasp of birth control is often limited to an awareness of her eventual participation in consumption. Her choice is constrained to picking her preferred form rather than if she’ll use it. Pervasive yet enigmatic, most women I know will have thought about, considered, and finally engaged with some variety of birth control. Yet, other than its fleeting mentions at my yearly doctor’s appointments, I have little recollection of how my garnered understanding of contraception was acquired. Sex education stopped after the sixth grade and the last book my parents bashfully read to me about the birds and the bees only covered the creation rather than the prevention of children. I suppose there were sporadic consultations of the internet, but the information I found was usually either medical or tainted with extremes. Most of my comprehension, therefore, must have been through conversations with my girlfriends, who casually recounted their experiences without realizing that my perception of birth control would stem almost entirely from their personal opinions. One of my friend’s negative experiences with the pill was scarring enough to convince me it wasn’t a fit. Yet often, we hear about a form of contraception’s consequences and decide to engage regardless. Conversely, another friend’s horrid IUD story was not a successful deterrent. The risk here seemed worthwhile. I’m aware of many who have had flawless experiences with birth control, with no mood swings, weight gain, and even the additional benefit of clearer skin. However, it is far from a one-size-fits-all system, and sometimes requires years of research and personal trial runs before finding an adequate match – that is, if this achievement is ever possible.
I refer principally to contraception options meant solely for women: the pill, IUDs, the patch, and tube-tying. Naturally, I have no contention with these methods; the freedom they have granted women over their fate and bodies – so intrinsically linked – is unmatched. There is no doubt of the physical, mental, and financial burdens women undergo when faced with potential or unwanted pregnancy. Consequences may even extend socially, morally, and legally depending on one’s community, country, or state. Yet, why does women suffering most from unwanted pregnancies create a notion that they should bear its full responsibility?
There are two involved in causing a pregnancy; two risking the body, mind, and more of an individual when they consent to having sex. So why should both individuals not take an active role in education, accountability, and responsibility in pregnancy prevention? I’ve encountered males’ disregard and ignorance for contraception countless times, mostly through friends’ flippant comments. C.L. Chng states in her study titled ‘The Male Role of Contraception: Implications for Health Education’: “Many men, young and old, still perceive contraception as primarily a woman’s responsibility, for after all, she suffers most directly from contraceptive failure”. These views are certainly not applicable to all, yet they remain ubiquitous enough to project the onus of sole responsibility onto one gender. Chng concludes, “this attitude is unfortunate. Since decisions about pregnancy affect both partners, both should share the contraceptive burden equitably”.
Last year, Gabrielle Blair published a book titled ‘Ejaculate Responsibly: A Whole New Way to Think about Abortion’, where she furthered this argument. Blair claims that the most effective and fair way to diminish abortion is to prevent unwanted pregnancies. This must be done through proper sex education and increased male accountability. There is no need to control women’s bodies; rather, condoms and vasectomies should be properly promoted. She argues that men should reform their ideas about these effective contraception methods instead of categorically meeting them with doubts, excuses, and rejection. Thus, education, empathy, understanding, and open-mindedness about using contraception themselves (i.e. trying different condom brands to find the right one or considering vasectomies when they no longer want children) are essential in increasing men’s involvement in ensuring safe sex. Blair invariably reiterates that it is not ovulation, but a man’s ejaculation, that causes pregnancy.
Options are key and an increase in responsibility for both genders is essential in their expansion. Talking to our partners, friends, and family can be an effective means. I have made both casual and heartfelt mentions of my beliefs on why men should always insist on condoms, the dangers of unprotected sex, and the importance of understanding the reproduction system. I’ve been open about my IUD – its benefits and downsides – why I didn’t want to take the pill, and how I know many who have had great experiences using condoms. Small conversations are a harmless yet impactful way to challenge perceptions about birth control, even if occasionally met with disregard or adversity. Sex education, openness with a doctor, and adequate research are others. Future developments in male and female contraception options are certainly necessary. Yet, for now, I believe that dual responsibility has significant potential in diminishing unwanted pregnancies. Both men and women need and deserve more knowledge, comfort, and possibilities when it comes to contraception.