#anyway i did very much want a hysterectomy when i was a teenager and did some semi-serious research into it

[pentanguine]

The appeal of a hysterectomy grows by the day

[pixiegrl]

You Are My Horizon

Jack comes to visit Rian at work. Rian's hopelessly in love.

Alright lets take it from the top:

Bet you never saw ATL fic coming from me? Well, here it is. Once again, this is part of a larger fic I'm writing. I'm blaming Rian's v-day thirst trap and Jack just being, you know, Jack for writing this. The only important thing to know going into this is that Rian and Jack are dating, Jack is trans, and that Rian works at a tattoo parlor owned by Ashton and Calum. The tattoo parlor is across from the flower show Luke (also trans) and Michael (non-binary) own.

Second: big thanks to @tigerteeff for whom I write all trans content. Thanks for listening to me yell about Trans Jack he is a special boy and I love him. Thanks to @lifewasradical @cakelftv @blackbutterfliescal and @staticsounds for listening to me yell about this fic (and the flower shop/tattoo parlor verse) and telling me how emo in a good way this is. I love you all dearly.

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500365

Rian’s sketching out the tattoo he’s designing when Jack comes into the back area of the parlor. He sighs dramatically, dropping himself into Rian’s lap and straddling him.

“Babe,” Jack whines.

“Hello to you too. Who’s watching Cam?”

“The puppy can be left alone for like an hour. I’ve been home all day. I missed you.”

“You saw me this morning.”

“That was hours ago. It’s like almost 5:00pm. I missed you,” Jack says, dropping his head down, resting it under Rian’s chin. Rian sighs, putting his pencil down and running his hands under Jack’s shirt. Jack sighs, pressing a kiss to Rian’s neck, easing into the touch. Rian likes Jack, all long legs and lean muscle, the contrast he is to Rian himself. He’s dyed his hair recently, a soft shade of blonde that contrasts with the dark hair of his beard. Rian remembers how excited Jack was about the beard when he started growing it, crowing that getting the hysterectomy finally helped him grow the hair that being on T didn’t. Jack’s painfully handsome these days, angled cheekbones and jaw framed by his beard, comfortable in his own skin. Jack has a soft smile on his face, as he pulls back, kissing Rian on the lips softly. 

They trade soft kisses for a few moments before Jack pulls back, grinning mischievously.

“No,” Rian says.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“You may not suck my dick at my place of work.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sanitizing the whole workstation.”

Jack sighs dramatically, flopping onto Rian, “But you have to do that anyway.”

“And I’m not letting you get this place dirty. Or risking someone walking in on us Jack, these are my co-workers.”

“Spoil sport,” Jack says. Rian huffs a laugh, letting Jack steal his snapback and put it on. He snuggles into Rian’s side, watching him sketch out the flowers.

“What’s this one?”

“Tattoo for a client. She wants a whole bouquet for flowers for her family.”

“Isn’t that Sierra’s thing? The flowers?”

“She wants it in watercolor.”

“So your speciality.”

“My speciality,” Rian says. Jack hums, getting a hand underneath Rian’s shirt, tracing his abs lightly as he keeps watching Rian. He has to be uncomfortable, at the angle he’s at but Jack makes no move to change his position.

“Why don’t you head home? I have to finish this sketch up and it’s not going to be very interesting for you,” Rian says, after Jack shifts for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“I don’t want to head home though. Wanna go with you.”

“You drove your car here Jack. You’d be going home without me anyway.”

“I don’t want to go home and wait around for you though. I want to wait here, with you. I want to spend time with you,” Jack says, pouting lightly. Rian sighs, heart soft. He ducks his head down pressing a kiss to Jack’s temple. Jack laughs, scrunching his nose up. He rests his head on Rian’s shoulder, watching as Rian works on the sketch around Jack’s long limbs.

“You know, I didn’t see myself being 32,” Jack says, just barely above a whisper. Rian stops what he’s doing, turning his attention to the boyfriend in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. At 15 I didn’t see myself making it to 20. I was a depressed teen, self-harming because I hated the way I looked and that I couldn’t understand what was going on. I thought I’d kill myself before 20 trying to figure it out. Then, I was 20 and I couldn’t see myself at 25. I finally had the words to understand what I was feeling and who I was, but then you’re going through therapists and doctors, people are giving you papers and reports and explanations and telling you how much money it all is to just be yourself. I thought I’d die under the stress of it all, the constant feeling of just having to fight to be myself,” Jack says, shrugging. 

He picks at the edge of Rian’s shirt, pulling at a loose thread there, head resting on Rian’s shoulder, nose touching his neck. Rian puts his pencil down, stroking his hand over Jack’s back, letting Jack nuzzle into him. They sit there for a few moments in silence before Rian finally works up the courage to ask Jack his question.

“What about at 25?” Rian asks, soft, squeezing Jack’s hip lightly.

“I got the right therapist. I went on T. They finally approved things and I had the money for my top surgery. There was light at the end of the tunnel. And then I met you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I love who I am, don’t get me wrong. I love being trans and I love being myself and I’m happy with myself. It took me so long to get there, but I love myself. But it’s hard, when you’re two months out of top surgery, when your voice still cracks, when you’re worried about how everyone else will see you, to picture someone loving you the way you love yourself. Especially when they look like you,” Jack says. He tilts his head up, looking at Rian, eyes a little wet. Rian laughs, breathless, at the idea of it all. 

He remembers meeting Jack with the sort of clarity that only comes with the certainty of knowing that this is your person, with the knowledge to capture this moment, so you can tell your family, your friends, write it into your wedding vows, tell it to your children. Alex had invited him to the back to school brunch he hosted with Lisa every year before school started. Rian had grumbled about it, considering he’s not a teacher what does it matter, but Alex has insisted that as his oldest friend Rian should come (he found out later Alex had intentionally done it to try and set him and Jack up, but Rian can’t really be mad about it). He’d found Jack, with his grown out emo fringe and home dyed red hair, standing by the music, trying to hijack it to play Blink-182 and complaining that Alex never let him have his way. Rian had found himself hopelessly enamored, listening to Jack rant about music and the merits of not teaching Romeo and Juliet to bored teens when Shakespeare has better plays. Rian had been so caught up in what Jack was saying, he hadn’t even noticed brunch had ended until Alex kicked them both out. Brunch had led to late lunch, led to dinner, led to Rian taking Jack for ice cream just so he didn’t have to leave, giving Jack his number and waiting for a phone call. Rian doesn’t think there’s ever been a time he wasn’t enamored by Jack, hopelessly in love with him from the moment Jack had demanded to see Rian’s Blink-182 tattoo. 

“What do you mean someone who ‘look like me’?”

“Handsome, masculine, rugged. You’re a tattoo artist and you work out and you’re like the kind of guy I wanted to be when I was a teen except I’m not. I’m me and there’s nothing wrong with me, but like compared to you. I’m the dorky English teacher. I’m all tall and lanky and stuff.”

“I love dorky English teacher Jack.”

“I know you do. You look at me with such love and adoration it hurts sometimes. The first time you told me you loved me I went home and cried,” Jack says. He’s sitting up now, arms draped over Rian’s shoulders, tears in his eyes. Rian, reaches up, brushing them away. 

“You did what?” Rian asks, quiet.

“I cried. I cried because you were everything teenage Jack dreamed of and couldn’t have. You loved me and loved me and you didn’t care that my voice cracked or about the scars or about anything else that made me feel self-conscious at the time because it was new and fresh. The first time you called me your boyfriend I didn’t know what to do. I felt so special and loved. You just loved me and it felt so real. And I was 25 and for the first time, I could picture myself at 30, at 40, at 50 because I could picture my life, I could picture sharing my life with you. And now I’m 32 and I want to tell teenage Jack that it’s worth it, all the waiting is worth it because you’re here. You’re here and I love you so much Ri,” Jack says. He’s crying now, eyes red, nose red. Rian pulls him into a hug, realizes he’s crying too.

“Well, I love you. You’re a hurricane and I never expected to fall in love the way I did with you, but god did I. I was so worried that first day if I let you go home, if I let you leave, you’d forget all about me. Except you kept calling me and texting me and then you practically moved into my house and I didn’t want to let you go. We have a home, a life, a dog. It’s everything I pictured when I was 17 and realized I liked guys too.” 

“Guess we’re just stuck together,” Jack says, sniffling. Rian laughs, a little wet, pulling Jack into a hug. 

“Guess we are.” 

“Think Ash will let you leave early? I wanna go home now and I don’t wanna wait for you.” 

“Yeah. I don’t have any more appointments and I can take the sketches home.” 

“Good. I think we deserve some pizza and white claws,” Jack says, solemnly. He’s smiling though and Rian’s hopelessly in love with him.

It isn’t till the drive home, which Rian barely managed to get to because Jack kept kissing him against his car, refusing to just let Rian get in the car and drive home so they could have dinner and cuddle, that Rian wonders what’s stopping him from making this permanent. They live together, they have a dog, Jack’s all but told Rian he sees them as forever and Rian feels the same way. What’s stopping Rian from just proposing? 

He takes the thought with him for the next week, searching for rings on his off time, trying to get other people’s opinions on what Jack might like until Rian finally decides on a simple black band for the ring. He ends up in the flower shop the next week, deciding that Jack deserves nice flowers for a proposal.

Luke is at the counter, fixing up a floral arrangement when Rian comes in. He looks up, surprised, blushing a little. Rian’s not dumb, he knows Luke has a crush on him. He also knows Luke has a crush on Jack and a major crush on Ashton, so he’s pretty sure Luke is just falling for anyone he thinks is cute until Ashton finally kisses him.

“Rian, hi! What brings you in? More flowers for the shop?”

“Flowers for Jack. I want to propose and I thought the sweetest man deserved some flowers to go with it.”

Luke looks at Rian in awe, lips parted in an “o.” 

“You’re going to propose?” Luke whispers. Rian furrows his brow, confused at Luke’s surprise, until he remembers that Luke’s trans too. Luke’s trans and he’s probably having the same reaction Jack did the first time he and Rian went to pride and Jack saw other people like them together, the idea that they weren’t alone. It softens Rian’s heart even more. He gets the older brother affection Jack has for Luke and Michael, the need to care for them. It’s hard not to when Luke’s staring at him, all wide blue eyes and open wonder.

“Yeah. Figured my boyfriend of seven years deserves to be my husband forever. Have some roses for it?” Rian says. Luke beams, hurrying around the counter, pulling out red roses to make a bouquet, bouncing with excitement. It’s infectious, making Rian even more excited to propose to Jack, seeing how excited Luke is, smiling the whole time. Ashton let him out of work early too, so he could be home to make dinner with Jack when he gets back from school. 

Rian’s anxious the whole drive home, flowers in the passenger seat, tapping his hands nervously on the steering wheel. What if he’s overthinking this whole thing? What if he’s fucking up the best thing in his life by proposing? What if all the nice words Jack said don’t mean marriage, they just mean staying together? What if Rian’s about to make the stupidest decision of his life? 

Jack’s car is already in the driveway when Rian gets back. He wasn’t expecting Jack to beat him home. It makes the pit in his stomach open wider, makes him even more anxious. He drops his keys five times before he finally manages to get them into the lock and open the door. 

“Ri?” Jack calls when Rian’s through the door. Camden comes sprinting through the house, barking excitedly at Rian until he picks him up, holding him in one arm while trying to keep the roses out of the way. 

“Yeah. You’re home early.” 

“Took the rest of my shit home. Why the fuck should I grade bad essays on The Odyssey at my desk when I can grade them on our couch while you yell at Jeopardy.” 

“I don’t yell at Jeopardy,” Rian says, offended.  

“Yes you do babe,” Jack says. Rian drops his bag by the front of the kitchen, placing the flowers on the counter and Cam on the floor. Jack’s back is turned to him, watching the chicken quesadillas he’s making in the pan intensely. Rian sneaks up behind him, wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist and running his hands over Jack’s hip bones, resting his chin on Jack’s shoulder. Jack sighs, leaning back into the touch. 

“Hi,” Rian says softly, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.  

“Hi,” Jack says, turning his head to get a kiss from Rian. He glances over Rian’s shoulder, perking up when he notices the flowers on the counter. 

“You bought flowers?” 

“I did.” 

“For your other lover?” Jack teases, abandoning the pan to turn around in Rian’s arms, kiss him softly. Rian smiles, tugging Jack closer, kissing his lips, his neck. Jack laughs, squirming in his arms. 

“You can’t kiss me like that while I’m cooking. We’ll start a fire,” Jack says. Rian rolls his eyes, letting Jack play with his hair. 

“I missed you,” Rian says softly. Jack snorts. 

“It was only 8 hours babe,” he teases. 

“You didn’t text me today. I’m used to you texting me.” 

“The teens were being wild today. I don’t remember this much drama when I was their age,” Jack says. Rian rolls his eyes, pulls Jack in for a hug. 

Jack eventually wiggles from Rian’s hold, turning back to the stove. Camden’s flopped down next to them, sighing heavily. Rian swallows, hand in his pocket fingering the ring box. 

“Hey Jack?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you marry me?” Rian asks, sinking to one knee, pulling the box out. 

“Very funny Ri,” Jack says, turning to face him. Whatever else he was going to say dies as he takes in the sight of Rian on the floor. 

“Will you marry me?” 

“Holy shit,” Jack breathes out. 

“I’m not the English teacher, but I have a whole speech planned. You know, the moment I met you, I knew. I saw you standing in the corner of Alex’s living room, yelling at him to pick better music and I knew. I wanted to commit everything to memory because that was the memory I wanted to tell everyone at our wedding. I’ve known since the minute you demanded to see my tattoo in front of everyone and practically stripped me shirtless that I wanted to marry you. You’re it for me Jack. When I was 17 and scared shitless at the idea that I liked men, I didn’t know what to do. I never felt confident or comfortable enough to come out, to be myself, to picture myself with someone like you. And then I met you and it’s all I could picture. You made me comfortable with myself, happy with myself. Your endless love and support and just being reminds me everyday how lucky I am to know you, to have met you, to have you love me. You’ve never given a shit about my depression or the way I am or my anxiety. You just remind me of brighter days, of the idea that I’m allowed to have this, to have your love. I can’t picture my life without you, without loving you. I want forever. So, will you marry me?” Rian asks. 

“Yes, what the fuck yes! Of course I’ll fucking...come here!” Jack shouts, dragging Rian up to him. He pulls Rian in for a kiss, bumped noses and teeth because they’re too excited to kiss properly. Jack leans back, tears running down his cheeks, smiling widely. 

“I was worried for a minute,” Rian jokes, pulling the ring from the box and sliding it onto Jack’s finger. Jack holds his hand out admiring it. 

“Like I would say no. Maybe all the coffee has fired your brain cells,” Jack teases. He turns to Rian, kissing him again, softer this time. 

“You never know.”

“Hell would freeze over before I said no to marrying you. You’re the love of my life,” he says, quietly. Rian smiles, pressing another kiss to his lips. 

“Hey, is something burning?” Rian asks after a few moments, when he realizes he smells smoke. 

“Oh shit!” Jack yells, turning frantically to fix the burning quesadillas, fanning the smoke to stop it from setting off the smoke detector. Rian laughs, helpless in the face of Jack’s panic, Camden’s distressed barking. It’s perfect, it’s everything Rian’s ever wanted in life. It’s everything he’s wanted since he met Jack at Alex’s brunch. It’s the life he’s always wanted.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do you and your parents like any of the same bands/singers?  Yeah, especially my mom and I. Is there any food in your bedroom? Just my ramen bowl from last night that I haven’t taken out, yet, but it’s empty. Do you know anyone who has road rage? Yes. How expensive is too expensive for a pair of shoes?  I admit to liking my Adidas, which are pricy, but the kind I get are at least under a $100. How far away do your grandparents live from you? They live in another state, about a 12 hour drive away.

What kinds of cereal are in the cupboard? I think there’s just Cinnamon Cheerios at the moment. My family and I don’t really eat cereal much anymore.  Is there anything related to cats in your bedroom?  No. Whats the last thing you spent over 10$ on?  Stuff from Bath & Body Works. They have their fall/Halloween collection in and I just had to get some stuff. Over 30$?  ^^^^ Do you know who lives three houses down from you?  Nope. Do you think Canadians all really love maple syrup? Do they Lane? lol. I’m not Canadian, but I do love maple syrup.  Is there a bulletin board in your room?  Yep. Is your mom a big health freak or your dad? Or neither? Neither of them really are, but out of the two my mom is more than my dad. My dad has a major sweet tooth and he likes his junk food.  Easter or Halloween? I enjoy both. Do you know anyone who wants to be the president one day? No. What kinds of chips are in the cupboards?  I don’t think we have any at the moment. Do you have your moms or dads hair?  I have my dad’s hair color, but my mom’s waviness. She actually had curly hair and has all my life, but she says when she was a kid and teenager it was wavy and then it became curlier as she got older.  Whats the first thing you see when you walk into your bedroom? The 4ft giraffe stands out a lot.  Have you ever skipped history class?  In college I probably did sometimes. I didn’t make a habit of missing class, but it happened now and then either because I didn’t feel well or just didn’t feel up to it that day. I always made sure I knew what was going on that day (like nothing had to be handed in that day or there wasn’t a quiz or exam, of course) and thankfully because of the syllabus I could keep up with the reading and assignments. I just allowed myself to miss a day or two. Do you own any yellow clothes?  I have a yellow shirt and a yellow Adidas hoodie. Do you have any friends who have naturally red hair?  I have a cousin who does. Have you ever cried when a teacher retired?  No, but I cried on the last day of 4th grade because I just really liked my teacher lmao. Everyone loved him, he was awesome. It was cool because he ended up being an 8th grade teacher later on and I got to have him again. Does your kitchen looks like it was designed in a completely different decade? No. Whens the last time you wore heels?  Never. Do you have your moms or dads eyes?  My mom’s.  Is there anything shiny in the room youre in?  Yeah. Whats the best date movie? I wouldn’t know. How long has your current best friend been your best friend? All 31 years of my life. Have your parents ever been out of the country? Yes, they’ve both been to Italy before I was born and I’m super jealous. Actually, my mom went once when she was pregnant with me so I kinda went haha. I’d like to experience it for real one day. Are you older then the last person you laughed with?  Yes. How many pairs of jeans, all together, are in your house? I am not even going to attempt to figure that out. Do you swear and yell while playing video games?  No. Would you rather name your daughter Andrea or Eva?  Not having kids, but I do like the name Andrea. Is there any alcohol in the fridge?  I think there is. If you had to get up at 6am tomorrow morning, would it be painful? I’d be up considering I don’t even go to bed until like 7/8AM. :X Have you ever seen the last person you watched TV with drunk?  Yeah. Has a best friend ever ditched you for a girlfriend/boyfriend?  I had a friend do that. Would you rather get a new brother or sister? No new siblings at this point. My mom had a hysterectomy anyway, so unless she’s adopting, which she’s not, it’s not happening.  Do you have anything in your room youve had for ten years or more?  A lot of things. Do your pets chase after bugs?  My doggo chases flies sometimes lol. She sees me going after them with the fly swatter and she tries to help.  Would you ever kiss the last person who messaged you on facebook/MSN/etc? No. Do eat at home or in restaurants more? Well, I haven’t ate out at a restaurant since February. We do a lot of takeout, though. We did that a lot even before all this, I prefer it. Whens the last time you were so excited you couldnt sleep? Why?  Back in February the night before my Disneyland trip. Audrey Hepburn or Audrey Kicthing?  Hepburn. I’ve never even heard of Audrey Kitching.  Do you e-mail more often then you talk on MSN/AIM?  I don’t know about MSN, which I’ve never had, but AIM hasn’t been a thing for awhile. It’s been over a decade anyway since I’ve used it. I don’t email either, except recently to try and dispute a charge. If your best friends birthday was next week, what would you get them? Well, her birthday is actually next month so I’ve been thinking about what to get her. What is your moms favorite movie? Grease haha. <<< Ha, that’s one of my mom’s faves as well. How much older is your dad then you?  He’s 27 years older than me. What TV family reminds you of your own family?  Hmm. Do you own any flip-flops? Nope. I don’t wear flip flops, sandals, slip ons, or any open toed shoe. Did you ever really believe that the stork brought babies? Nah, my parents didn’t tell me that. Do you have any relatives who really spoil you?  My parents. Are there any drawers in your house that are just filled with junk?  Yeah, we have the designated junk drawer. I personally have a few :X Is the last person you spoke to in love?  Not that I know of. How far away is Chicago from where you live?  It’d be a 32 hour drive and like a 4 hour nonstop flight. Do you know anyone who always looks perfect? Who? I think my mom does. She likes to wear makeup, but I truly don’t think she needs it. I’m also super envious of her flawless skin, which I sadly didn’t get. Do you know anyone who has security cameras in their house?  Yeah. Do you think Zac Efron is really that good looking?  Eh, honestly I’ve never really found him attractive. What was the last movie to make you cry?  Hmm. I’m blanking at the moment. Has anyone you know ever pulled the fire alarm in school, joking around?  No. Who was the main character in the last book you read? Her name is Emma Griffin.  Is the last person you said goodbye to single?  One of them is. Who are the last people you saw kiss?  People on the show I was watching. Have you ever posted a fan fiction on a website?  No. Do you ever fantasize about your future wedding? Whos the bride/groom? Nope. I don’t plan on ever getting married. I’m also not the person who has dreamt of their wedding since they were little. Chapstick or lipgloss? Chapstick. I like ones with a tint of color. What was the last unplesant thing to wake you up?  A nightmare. Do you have any friends who are ALWAYS kissing their bf/gf?  Does that get annoying? Would you rather look at clouds or stars?  Stars. If you could trade appearances with the last person you hugged, would you?  Like I said, I’m super envious of my mom’s flawless skin and I think she looks beautiful with or without makeup. Do you have any relatives who are expecting a baby really soon?  No. Do you ever wonder what the opposite sex do at sleepovers?  Probably play video games, watch movies, and eat. When you get married, who will be the maid of honor/best man?  Sigh. Does your best friend get along with their parents? This same question was in a previous survey I just did. Anyway, yeah she was very close with them when they were alive, but sadly they both have passed away. :( If you were to walk to Florida from where you live, would it take long? Uh, yeah. I live in California and Florida is all the way across on the opposite side. According to Google it would take 912 hours to walk there! Do you understand why 'To kill a mockingbird' is called what it is? I know I learned about the reason why, but I don’t recall. Okay, so I just Googled it because I was curious and yep the explanation is what I was told. When's the last time you broke plans? Why? It’s been a few years now since I’ve had plans, but I started having to cancel and not make plans at all because of health stuff and just for the fact I was really going through a hard time. Have you ever been in a wedding? What were you?  Nope. Would you feel safer with an alarm systen or security camera? Both. Does the last person you touched smoke?  No. Do you know someone who is CONSTANTLY texting? Does that annoy you?  It only annoys me when I’m trying to talk to them because so often they’re too focused on whatever they’re doing on their phone. Does it matter to you what kind of shampoo you use?  Yeah. Rate this survey from 1 to 5 (1 worst, 5 best):  I don’t like rating stuff, but it was fine.

[uncommonfauna]

In 1972 Janet Clifton, an Osage woman, walked into the IHS in Clairemore, Oklahoma. For years she had been having severe pelvic cramps and they had become too much to bear. She was put in a gown and lead to a room in which sat the dreaded stirruped chair many women have despised since it’s invention. The anxiety is understandable even in modern times when women’s healthcare is arguably the most advanced it’s ever been. It’s frightening, then, to imagine approaching that chair in the 60’s and 70’s, when modern women’s healthcare was in it’s infancy, and for a Native American woman, it could be absolutely terrifying. 

When Janet signed in to the clinic, she’d been asked the usual questions, one of which was ‘are you married’, which she was, and was asked if she had any children, which she did. Three to be exact. She was only twenty-five and all her children were born just under three years, so it is no surprise that when she was asked if she was religious she replied that she was Catholic. Christianity and native Americans have a strange relationship. The religion was used to justify atrocities done to us too numerous not only for this paper, but for anyone to ever list. Arguably it’s greatest crime was to mold itself into a cardboard beacon, offering native Americans sanctuary from it’s own ugliness. For centuries Native American men made the decision to convert for the rest of the family. The rules of life changed for them, but it’s unclear if they realized the changes it meant for their wives. Their roles in many nations were reduced, as was their agency over their bodies. Contraceptives in their earliest days were known throughout the world, including the Americas, yet now they were forbidden. As ridiculous and ineffective as they could be, they at least offered the illusion of body autonomy, mostly for women. 

When Janet went to the IHS the Women’s Health Movement (WHM) had only recently begun, along with second wave feminism. It spoke loftily and justly about abortion rights and about changing the traditional maternity ward practices into more family oriented ones, with the fathers allowed in the delivery room. There was a resurgence of midwifery. However, these improvements did not scratch the blood soaked surface of Native American health care. As Janet lay in the chair, three white doctors entered the room. The Indian Clinic did not have any native doctors, so doctors were driven in from nearby Tulsa Oklahoma, thus continuing the tradition of white doctors working with an exclusively non-white clientele. “I felt like I was being experimented on,” she would later say. She would be in good company. A Google search of “experiments on native women” will instantly bring up several articles about the forced sterilization of Native American women, and many give examples of experimental procedures that were performed in front of many doctors under the guise of research. Janet, who only wanted treatment for what we now know as polycystic ovary syndrome, never knew she would join their ranks. “One of the doctors told me that they were going to burn the cysts off. The procedure was never really explained to me and it was probably a combination of me being a woman and being Native American. They thought I was too dumb to understand anyway.” Had she known more on the subject she might have thought he was referring to a ovarian wedge resection, a common treatment at the time. It involves opening the patient up in an operating theater and exposing the ovaries. The cysts are then carefully removed with a cauterization tool not only keep the cyst from bursting, but to ensure the ovary heals properly. Instead of doing this, Janet and her doctors remained in the exam room where he gave her a local anesthetic, inserted a cauterizing into her vaginally, and performed what was most likely a tubal litigation. This is the most common form of female sterilization and only severs the fallopian tubes. My grandmother’s painful ovaries would remain untouched and untreated.  

“I remember smelling something burning,” recalled Janet, “I looked down and saw smoke.”She was sent home directly after the procedure, unaware of what had actually happened to her and uninformed of the possible side effects. There was pain, of course, and in a candid moment she also confessed that she was never able to feel sexual pleasure with her husband again. Worst of all, because there had been no attempt to treat the cysts, and the pain that started the entire ordeal returned within weeks. 

Pain seems to be woven into the fabric of every Native American woman’s life and this has not gone unnoticed artists, native and non-native alike. When native women are not posing nude on a biker’s bicep, we are huddled into blankets, riding our horses, our backs bent and heads hung low. Sometimes we stand on hills, gazing at nothing with blank faces and sometimes we kneel by our tipis and look at the ground. Though the past few decades have brought forward more animated depictions of Native American women, my grandmother’s house was filled with the old fashioned kind. As a child, I thought they were pretty, if boring. I never perceived any greater meaning than a woman simply looking down. Maybe she was watching a bug. As a child I was also blissfully unaware of the majority of the atrocities faced by our people and what I did know, I largely new in name only. It wasn’t until I grew older that I’d look at these paintings and think ‘huh, she actually looks kinda sad’. Now I look at these paintings and think ‘she looks utterly defeated’. Knowing what really happened to us makes me notice details I never had before, like how so many of them have textbook thousand yard stares while portraits of chiefs and warriors in the same stye still seem to have fire in their eyes. The men are also more likely to be depicted upright, whether standing or on horseback, still tall in some way or another. The woman have deflated. We slump over our horse’s necks, we kneel, we sit. It seems as though these women have accepted that pain is just something they must endure silently and with dignity, whatever the source. My grandmother is not like these women, so when the pain that had sent her to the doctor in the first place returned, so did she. 

The doctors made little effort with pretense this time - she would have a hysterectomy and that was that. At this point there was no reason to try and treat her as Janet could no longer have children, and in the end her hysterectomy would succeed in ridding her of her pain. Why then does it seem to hold so much more significance? European invaders managed to erase many aspects of various indigenous cultures, but some roots run too deep to be completely torn out and in so many of our cultures it was the female ability bring forth life that created the world. The association with women and new life was so strong that even in some nations it was observed that women sewed the seeds for the new crops and tended to them, but it was the men who reaped them. Their reasoning was that women brought life, and men took it. Some Lakota Sioux would not acknowledge a girl’s transition to womanhood until she has had a child. This doesn’t mean that a woman’s only value was her ability to have children and in many nations women held high political power, were religious leaders, and even warriors. Still, it is virtually impossible to completely separate a woman’s potential reproductive capabilities and how she was viewed in societies that place more value on the concept of new life, birth, or rebirth. So many Native American nations fell into this category, and on some level or another, a woman’s womb was sacred. In 1972, at age 25, my grandmother’s was ripped from her body.

From an outsiders perspective, it seems as though these sterilized women have become those broken women from the paintings. In doing research for this paper, I found very little. The ambiguity is unsettling. Is the near total absence of initial medical documentation a result of apathy towards Native American health, or an intentional coverup? Did the women affected not speak out about this at the time because of the taboo around reproductive systems? Was it shame, or a feeling that no one would listen anyway? I have to wonder, too, how many woman are like my grandmother who only now realizes what was done to her. Whitehorse also did not realize what happened to her until later. “I was trying to have more babies, but was having trouble getting pregnant, so I went to the IHS clinic. That’s when they told me about what they did to me,” She said. She had been sterilized during a previous surgery.“I was in so much pain when I went in for the appendectomy; they gave me a bunch of papers to sign. They never explained anything to me; I had no idea I was giving them permission to sterilize me.” she said. It wasn’t only abdominal pain that allowed doctors to trick women into sterilization. One of the more famous cases of sterilization involved two girls, both under fifteen years old, who were sterilized during surgery to remove their tonsils. It’s been estimated that between 1960 and 1970, for every seven native babies born, one woman was sterilized, culminating in roughly 25% of the potentially fertile female population. Even this was not enough of an attack on the Native American woman. Native American boarding schools, run by the BIA (Bureau of Indian Affairs) where still common in that era. A 1971 census stated that approximately 35,000 Native American children lived in boarding schools rather than at home. In these schools, children were stripped of their language, their culture, their religion, their names, and often, their sanity. Abuse was rampant and the chances of escape were bleak. While non-native children were begging for bell bottoms and watching t.v, two native boys fled, only to freeze to death in their attempt to return home. Suicide rates amongst teenage boarders could reach as high as one hundred times the national average. The rest of the nation, if it noticed, soon turned away and continued to focus on disco. Native mothers could do little to stop the abuse of their children, but a growing number were being offered a choice. If they agreed to be sterilized, their existing children might be allowed to stay with them. It can’t be said if it was in defeat or defiance that a mother made her choice, whichever it was. It would a lie to say that no woman was defeated, and sat slumped over a bottle of whiskey rather than a horse.

However, when my grandmother was wheeled into the recovery bay, she discovered that she was not the only woman who refused stoop down and be silent, though she did not yet know what bond she shared with these women. They were a small group, all in various stages of recovery. They smiled and chatted if and when they could, and because the nurses were about as helpful as a match under water, they tended to each other. The women adjusted each others hospital beds by hand, fetched each other glasses of water and just as importantly, they kept each other in good spirits. Decades later, Janet will still smile and laugh when she remembers a woman that was truly fed up with the barely edible hospital food. “You guys want some pizza?” The woman had asked, and then she got up and climbed out the window. A while later she returned the same way, pizza in hand. They might have been neglected and in pain, but in that moment they were normal women diving into a pizza and giddy with their own mischief. It seems like such a small gesture, valuable in that it’s a light hearted tidbit from an otherwise tragic story, but it is so much more than that. Expand the perspective and you’ll find it’s really the story of how a Native American woman was had her reproductive organs seared into oblivion against her will by white doctors, was neglected by nurses in a recovery room filled with strangers, and this woman still had the strength and spark to climb out a window and return with pizza to share with her sisters. Our solidarity is our fortitude. Native women have an incredible ability to come together and to accomplish incredible things. One of they key elements that allows us to do this is our ability to communicate with each other, and despite what modern white hippies may think, we can’t do that with telepathy and talking animals. I would not have been able to tell my grandmother’s story without calling her and having several lengthy phone calls. This chapter of our history is in danger of being forgotten. It’s imperative we learn as much as we can, but that is not enough. It’s through communication that bond over our people’s losses and triumphs and encourage others to learn along with us. If I am to end this essay with one request, it is that when you read this chapter of our history, please read it out loud. 

—- This essay is dedicate to Janet Stork, I cannot give enough thanks to my grandmother for letting me interview her. Rather than mourn her loss, she seemed happy throughout every conversation, as if she was glad that someone wanted to hear what she had to say. This is such a sensitive topic, one that would make many young students here cringe and shy away from, but my grandmother made every conversation a comfortable one. No question was off limits, there was no withholding of details. I feel so lucky to have a grandmother like her, and I’m amazed that it’s through her strength I exist today.