Back, and My Unsolicited Opinion on the HHS decision

I finally feel passionately enough about an issue to post on this blog after what, a year and a half?

Re: Kathleen Sebelius and her not letting minors buy Plan B over the counter

I feel very conflicted about this issue, and I come down on Sebelius' side for one reason, although I REALLY wish that I could create a compromise between HHS and FDA's respective decisions.

My opinions:

1) Plan B is ABSOLUTELY SAFE for all women or girls of reproductive age to take.

2) Plan B should be available over the counter.

3) Plan B should be available to all girls 12 and over.

4) Plan B should NOT be available to girls 10-111. But why do I feel this way about the youngest girls, and not about 15-year-olds? Because I feel very strongly that girls of that age are NOT OLD ENOUGH to either give consent or understand the consequences of those actions. I want them to get a prescription not because I want them to suffer the consequences of rape and assault, but because I want those girls, who are so young, to see a doctor and get help. It is so unfair to just let these girls slide through the system without someone being able to investigate why these girls are pregnant. Just because they CAN be pregnant doesn't mean that they should, and I want them to be able to get help.

My compromise: All women and girls 10 and older have access to over-the-counter Plan B. If a girl under 13 tries to purchase it, they and their parents are automatically referred to Child Services. If a 12 year old girl is pregnant, something is very, very wrong.

The true pain of art, and not being able to go the distance

From Sandra Tsing Loh, in an essay response to The Tiger Mother.

One of the most painful things about being us is how we ache to be as beloved as Mozart, but are stunted. When I think of Chinese parents, I think of people who weep upon hearing Beethoven, but who can’t necessarily bring that joy to others. Perhaps we can do so fleetingly, through our children, while they are still young, decades before they, like me, will sit at a piano, Fallen Prodigies in their 40s, their own kids squalling, dogs barking—once-perfect dolls who berate themselves for losing their youthful technique.

I feel this constantly, and the terror of not being able to get it back paralyzes me.