Midwives of the Revolution

Explorations, analysis, and reflections on reproductive health, birth, and midwifery from a feminist, marxist lens

Calling on the Saints

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I am an atheist. I’m not a person of faith, though I was raised Christian. Despite my parents’ best efforts and wonderful role modeling of spiritual life, god doesn’t make sense to me conceptually or as a foundation for my world view. I have dabbled in Buddhism and attended a Unitarian Universalist congregation, I practice yoga, and there’s some Pagan stuff that speaks to me, but the only philosophy that I have been able to commit to is revolutionary marxism. A smidgen of woo-woo and commitment to personal growth is as spiritual as I think I’m gonna get.

I remain a bit of a black sheep in much of my family for not being part of any church, though I know they love me unconditionally (and pray for me often). My mother, a mystic secular Franciscan who converted to Catholicism when I was in high school, has never given up on me returning to theism. She is quite subtle in her attempts to spark faith back in my scientific mind and heart. She is not an evangelist in any sense, but she knows and works with my soft spots, like the work of Anne Lamott — she gave me that author’s most recent book for Christmas last year (haven’t read it yet).

My mother’s most successful breakthrough in getting me to open up spiritually came when she and my step-father took a trip to Ireland, where my mother discovered this beautiful cross on people’s thresholds and in some of the local shops and churches. They had been to Ireland a few times before, but she had never noticed it before. She asked around about the meaning of the cross and came to find out that it was St. Bridget’s cross.

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St. Bridget’s Cross, traditionally woven

Bridget, whose feast day is my birthday. Bridget, who is a patron saint of midwives, healers, brewers, and poets. Bridget, who by one account, may have brought the miracle of abortion to a woman in need. Bridget, who is recognized by Celtic paganism as goddess of fertility and earthly fire.

When they came back from the trip, I met my mother for lunch. I was having a hard time — I had failed to pass the certification exam for nurse midwives and was feeling a little lost, doubting myself and fearful of not being able to continue to pursue my dreams. My mother was beaming as she slid this small tissue-wrapped gift across the table to me, and as she told me about Bridget while I opened the package. It was perfect.

I have come to adopt a bit of reverence for and connection to saint/goddess Bridget. I may not believe in god, but I do find it useful and calming to call upon the “spirit” of Bridget and to work to embody her legacy when I am struggling. I keep the cross my mother gave me on my desk at work, and I wear her cross on a necklace some days. I may even get a Bridget tattoo one day. It’s not magic, but I began calling upon Bridget as I prepared again to tackle my midwifery board exams, and I continue to do so to help myself get grounded. I have adopted (and adapted ever so slightly) this traditional prayer and find myself reciting it as my mantra when I find myself stressed, worried, or needing to find strength. I’m glad Bridget’s got my back.

Brigid.
You were a woman of peace.
You brought harmony where there was conflict.
You brought light to the darkness.
You brought hope to the downcast.
May the mantle of your peace cover those who are troubled and anxious,

and may peace be firmly rooted in our hearts and in our world.
Inspire us to act justly and to reverence all God has made.
Brigid you were a voice for the wounded and the weary.
Strengthen what is weak within us.
Calm us into a quietness that heals and listens.
May we grow each day into greater wholeness in mind, body and spirit.

Author: queermarxistmidwife

I am a nurse-midwife practicing in full-scope (reproductive health and birth care) in a community birth setting in the Midwest. My clinical practice is an extension of my longtime commitment to social reproduction (a close cousin and friend to intersectional -- perhaps synonymous to, depending on who you talk to!) marxist feminism and reproductive justice activism. I write anonymously to protect my job security and make clear that these are my personal opinions, and to make clear that I am also a professional whose personal opinions can also be separate from the care I provide. (While I personally believe in abolition of the prison industrial complex, I still have clients that are cops/married to cops [etc.] and maintain respectful, compassionate clinical relationships with them.) I was called to midwifery circuitously, through my love for reproductive rights and an interest in providing abortion care. Then I met midwives and learned about the intertwined legacy of midwifery and abortion, and I fell in love with birth. In my practice, I have worked as a primary care midwife in a Federally Qualified Health Center and campaigned fiercely for true midwifery in a hospital setting rife with obstetrical violence (and lost that fight!). I have learned how to bring midwifery care from the belly of the beast in a large teaching hospital that functions in many ways as an assembly line of medicalized birth. I have also had my heart broken by my own midwife when I realized that my dream job in home birth was actually a nightmare in many ways. I have found healing through communities of midwives that work to support each other through the traumas of toxic healthcare workplaces. I am constantly learning, working on my personal and professional growth, and striving for accountability, particularly as an anti-racist that benefits from white privilege. Midwives of the Revolution is meant as a nod to Marx and Engles's writing on the process of social revolution, as well as an aspiration to be among the midwives fighting to transform the perinatal health system in the context of the struggles for reproductive justice. The social revolution it will take to win reproductive justice will have to involve birth workers, other health workers (unionized, and not; professionals and not), educators, abolitionists, environmentalists, and of course childbearing people and families. I love the way that Marx's collaborator Engles (a brilliant philosopher and activist in his own right) describes the dialectical process of childbirth, which, for me, also undergirds my commitment to bodily autonomy and reproductive justice. To paraphrase, some of the events that midwives are called to may be "violent" or forceful, like childbirth -- not unlike revolution and social struggle: The fetus is negated by the neonate, who can only be brought about by the force of childbirth. The midwife facilitates that transition, as force (or social struggle) facilitates the transition from one form of social relations to another. Scolding the philosopher Duhring, Frederick Engles defends the social force required to fundamentally transform society: "Force, plays yet another role in history, a revolutionary role; that, in the words of Marx, it is the midwife of every old society pregnant with a new one, that it is the instrument with the aid of which social movement forces its way through and shatters the dead, fossilised political forms." (Anti-Duhring, found here: http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1877/anti-duhring/ch16.htm#087)

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