It's not surprising that it can only exist with the help of a toxic brew of chemicals
A 26-year-old woman in Los Angeles nearly died last month because of a blood clot in her brain. The cause? An oral contraceptive (OC).
A 21-year-old woman in England, Fallan Kurek, did die last week after taking an oral contraceptive for only 25 days. It had been prescribed by her doctor to “regulate her periods.”
That drug was Rigevidon, a blend of ethinyl estradiol and levonorgestrel, manufactured in Hungary. It’s one of a new generation of OC’s utilizing synthetic hormones. The British Medical Journal reports that these new mixes are two to three times deadlier than the previous generation of OCs made from levonorgestrel.
When Enovid, the first OC, was licensed by the FDA in 1957, it was with the warning that no woman should take it for more than 24 months.
By now, millions of women have been on oral contraceptives for billions of woman-years.
And now there are multi-year contraceptives, which are implanted under the skin and require a physician to remove them. In the June issue of Vogue (that reveals who the target market is) there is a one-page ad with three (!!!) pages of disclaimers for Nexplanon. The pages warn against everything from depression to acne to ectopic pregnancy to serious blood clots.
Probably most women in England—as in America—are conscious about what they eat. They worry about pesticides in their salad and hormones in their meat. They seek out organic foods because they don’t want foreign chemicals messing up their bodies. They deplore athletes who use performance-enhancing drugs.
So why don’t they have the same concerns about the bodily effects of contraceptives? Why would a 21-year-old dose herself with ethinyl estradiol and levonorgestrel and other unpronounceable hormones and steroids?
For some—as was the case with poor Fallon Kurek—it is because a (perhaps lazy, perhaps overworked) doctor said it would solve the problem of irregular periods.
For others, it may be because a doctor said it would treat acne. That’s what happened to my college roommate. Once she was on the Pill she started to have sex, since she knew there would be no consequences.
That, of course, is why most women turn their bodies into toxic waste dumps. They cannot face life without being able to have sex “any time the moment is right,” as the ads put it. Which means they can’t imagine life without OC’s.
This creates a problem for unborn babies. Because if the goal is consequence-free sex, and a little consequence gets implanted in a womb anyhow, there’s only one way to eliminate it, and that’s called abortion.
Wouldn’t it be easier for adult females to live with their natural fertility intact?
Nobody asks that question because of the lifestyle changes it might imply.
B—b—b—but . . . you can’t mean . . . you can’t be talking about—chastity?
The very sound of that word conjures up images of crones wagging their fingers at sweet young things who just want to have fun. “Chastity” has a serious brand-identity problem: It is perceived as the antithesis of “fun,” which is equated with “sex.”
Dawn Eden used to practice that equation, and she has nailed the problem with that lifestyle: “The disconnected feelings that result from sexual intercourse outside of marriage can be emotionally disastrous,” she writes in her book The Thrill of the Chaste.
Eden played the game for years. “Thinking back on dating experiences that had seemed so spontaneous and passionate,” she came to see them “for what they were: cold, clinical couplings. They weren’t really about excitement. They were about control.”
In her sexual relationships, she knew “the pain of separation would come, but it wouldn’t hit me so deeply, because I’d see it coming.” Not only was she a sex object, she was making her partner a sex object too. He was using her, and she was using him.