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The juncture of faith and health.

Monday, the day before Valentine’s Day, many Harvard students returned to their rooms after a long day of class to find a plastic bag hanging on their doorknobs, a condom, lube, and a flyer inside. One side of the flyer listed safe condom techniques and tips, while the other, headlined by a flowery “Happy Valentine’s Day”, listed the information for Peer Contraceptive Counselors (PCC), the University-sponsored counseling group that dispenses advice on sex and a wide range of contraceptive and safe sex devices to students at Harvard.

Although the door drop turned few heads at Harvard — PCC stocks boxes with free condoms in convenient locations across campus and Trojan Condoms ranks Harvard’s sex education in the top quartile nationally — it came at a time when the question of contraceptives on religiously-affiliated college campuses is at the forefront of the national news cycle. The new federal health insurance mandate (H.H.S. mandate) requires that insurance companies and employers cover contraceptives in employees’ insurance plans without a co-pay, and as the Obama administration and various religious and religiously affiliated groups wrestle with the question of religious exemptions to this rule, students at colleges and universities across the country are voicing their opinions on the matter as faith, religious liberty, reproductive freedom, and health policy collide.

The facts of the matter are these: on January 20^th, the Department of Health and Human Services announced that after consideration, the only religious exemptions to the insurance mandate for contraceptives would be for institutions whose primary purpose is religion and that serve one religious community, which would limit the exemption to churches, synagogues, mosques, and the like. Upon this announcement, Catholic bishops led the charge against what they saw as an infringement on religious freedom (the Roman Catholic Church prohibits all contraception for believers), eventually forcing the President to compromise on the issue earlier this week. The new compromise, whose intent is to remove responsibility from religiously affiliated institutions, allows such hospitals, charities, and universities to defer the issue of contraception directly to their insurance providers. While this compromise does place responsibility for contraceptive coverage on insurance companies, many universities, such as Notre Dame and Georgetown, both Jesuit, are self-insured, putting them in the predicament of being both employer and insurer. It is not immediately clear how this compromise will affect the lives of students attending religious universities, and its impact on students will likely vary from college to college.

From faith-based institutions such as Boston College and Pepperdine University to secular universities such as Harvard, the spectrum of opinion on the matter of contraception access in school-sponsored health insurance plans is broad. At many Catholic and religious universities — such as those in the twenty-eight states that require insurance companies to fund contraception for all — contraceptives are covered under university-affiliated insurance policies with a co-pay even if university health services will not write contraceptive prescriptions. Although the new insurance mandate would eliminate the co-pay, because the reality of contraceptive access on campus will not change for many, the debate has become more a matter of principle than of practice.

A slew of editorials in student newspapers at Catholic colleges across the country have illuminated both sides of the issue. Notre Dame’s Observer has consistently printed letters to the editor and “viewpoints” both for and against the H.H.S. mandate since the original announcement on January 20^th. Students and faculty have called for a practical approach to the realities of unmarried Catholics having sex, have exhorted Notre Dame to uphold Church doctrine at all costs, and have made pleas for Catholic values promoted socially rather than through legislation. Georgetown University’s Hoya has published fewer but equally impassioned editorials on both sides of the debate in the last few weeks as well. Meanwhile, Catholic University’s student newspaper, The Tower, has exclusively published anti-contraception editorials, and nearby Boston College’s main paper, The Heights, has been relatively quiet on the subject, publishing its last article on the topic two weeks ago. Its conservative competitor, The Observer, has been rather quiet on the issue as well.

The Catholic Church and its affiliated universities are receiving the most attention in the controversy as it condemns contraceptives and sterilization across the board, while other denominations might be more lenient, especially for married couples. Nevertheless, the issue has arisen in other religiously affiliated universities across the country, from pro-contraception articles in Churches of Christ affiliate Pepperdine University’s Graphic to Brigham Young University’s Daily Universe framing the issue in terms of Mitt Romney’s candidacy. With 55% of Americans standing behind the new H.H.S. guidelines and 58% of Catholics in support of them (98% of sexually active Catholic women polled use some form of birth control), and with Republicans in Congress actively working to strike down the new guidelines in the name of the First Amendment, it is unlikely that the controversy will die down soon.

Meanwhile, at secular Harvard University, strong opinions on the law seem to be few, as University Health Services (UHS) provides a wide variety of sexual health care and resources to its students. UHS will prescribe various forms of birth control to students on request, though its health insurance provider, Blue Cross and Blue Shield, and its prescription drug supplier, Medco, almost always require a student co-pay. UHS also offers STI and HIV testing, covered by both the full and supplementary health insurance plans, resources for survivors of sexual assault, and pregnancy testing. Likewise, UHS will refer students to Planned Parenthood or Women’s Health Services if a student should chose to terminate a pregnancy, and then provides follow-up care at UHS. Abortions are fully covered under Harvard’s Student Health Insurance Plan, and for those with outside insurance, the required Health Services Fee will provide $350 to help cover costs.

Meanwhile, PCC continues to provide sexual health resources for its fellow students in its office on the 5^th floor of UHS, where drop-ins are from 7 p.m. to 12 a.m. from Sunday through Thursday, and from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. on weekends. PCC can also be reached at 617-495-7561 or at pcc@hcs.harvard.edu.

Meghan Brooks ’14 (meghanbrooks@college) will be watching as the controversy unfolds.

Growing up isn’t growing apart.

Going to college sometimes means distancing one’s self from family. It’s easy to get caught up in the psets and extracurricular activities and forget about the people you left to get here. Although I am now far away from the skyscrapers, street vendors, and neon lights back home in New York, I still remember an experience — when I was a young teenager — when it hit me how important my family is to me:

All of the boys sat in rows brimming with the blues, greens, oranges, and reds of our gym clothes. Suddenly our loud banter turned into a silent murmur. Mr. O’Hara, the gym teacher, announced that basketball tryouts were taking place.

Attending the tryouts would have been better than going home. Home was the dungeon where my mother constantly shouted at me to do the dishes and clean my room. It’s where I have to deal with my parents’ rigid standards; they expect me to be devoted to my religion, family, and education. Although I am Bengali, I feel more American because I’ve grown up here. Yet, my family’s standards have not let me be a typical American teenager, the youth who stayed out late with friends and indulged in materialistic desires, and seemed to have fun doing it. This was the idea in my head when I decided to stay for basketball tryouts.
I knew that staying after school for academic reasons would be acceptable to my parents, but staying for basketball would be out of the question. So I made up a lie to tell my mother. I would say I fell asleep on the bus and missed my stop. This lie would keep me from getting into trouble when I finally did get home. Reassured, I decided it was time to have fun and go play basketball.

After school, I went into the gym for tryouts as I had planned. Still, guilt was creeping up on me because my parents did not know of my whereabouts. Yet, I felt a powerful sense of belonging being at the tryouts with my friends. At home, my mom seemed to want to mold me into her version of a perfect boy, and my younger sisters just thought about what they wanted: their favorite TV programs, that Simpsons episode they wanted to see on the computer. I was annoyed of all of my responsibilities and chores; I wanted to be independent.
Even as I had fun shooting hoops, I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake by not notifying my parents. They had the right to know where I was. Still, I thought, they didn’t have that right to boss me around constantly.

Suddenly, late into the tryouts, I heard an announcement over the loudspeaker informing me to go to the main office. I knew something was wrong: I had never been called over the loudspeakers before. My footsteps made an eerie noise as I ran out of the gym and through the deserted halls. My hands were numb and my heart beat rapidly. Time seemed to have stopped.

When I got there, I saw my mother in her black coat, her embroidered scarlet scarf on her head. I had expected anger, but the tears on my mother’s face surprised me. The way she looked at me — with a mixture of agony, relief, and joy — knocked some sense into me. My mom hugged me tightly, but said nothing. I wanted to know what had happened; her tears were making me more and more worried. Did something bad happen? Was someone hurt? A million questions were racing through my mind.

When she had calmed down, I learned that she had thought I was kidnapped. Crying hysterically, she rushed to my school to see if anyone knew where I was. She had cried during the whole trip, so much that people on the street were asking her what had happened. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. If my mother had not been in tears, I would have laughed at the outlandishness of what had gone through my mother’s mind. Instead, I felt like a miserable, worthless child. I realized how stupid I had been: I had grown older and become so wrapped up in my own life that I had forgotten how much my parents care about me. I had forgotten what it’s like to care about a loved one’s safety.

Since that day, I’ve approached my family life differently. I remember that day and how lucky I am to have a family. Even though I am in college now, I call back home frequently to make sure everything is okay. I realize now how important my family is, and how much they mean to me. Even though sometimes I don’t agree with my parents’ strictness and get annoyed by my sisters, I know that, through rain or shine, they will always love me.

Mohammed Hussain ‘15 (mohammedhussain@college) calls his mom.

The societal implications of this week’s viral video.

If you are a Mormon, from Utah, an avid Huffington Post reader, or a follower of race-related current events, chances are you have heard the latest controversy to arise around Brigham Young University. In a four-minute movie posted to YouTube, comedian Dave Ackerman asks students at the LDS university what they know about Black History Month, all while made up in blackface. His questions range from the supposedly obvious query “When is Black History Month?” to “Who are some prominent figures in black history?” to “Would you pretty please do your most stereotypical impersonation of a black person?” (I admit that last one includes seasonings of my own incredulity and cynicism. Ackerman actually says “Every white person has an impression of a black person” and proceeds to have the students demonstrate their impressions.)

The students’ answers range from objective statements of fact (“MLK was important”) to rather frightening displays of a lack of basic history knowledge. One student says Malcolm X “was part of the movement in the, you know, to get the black [sic] into the schools.” Another states “he was like, um, bad.” Another responds to Ackerman’s important-figures question with “Who was the lady on the bus? What was her name?” Answers to questions about a black man’s ability to score dates on campus and whether a girl would want a white guy who acts like a black guy are equally as uncomfortable to watch. As concerning as all of this is, however, it’s not necessarily troubling for the reasons that may immediately come to mind.

Upon watching this, one may express outrage over these students’ rather narrow knowledge of basic American history and the seemingly racist impressions that such ignorance suggests. One may extrapolate and conclude that this has to do with their setting at BYU, which is less than 1% black out of a student body of over 30,000 people. One may decide that this does not bode well for interracial relations in the LDS Church and community. However, these are false conclusions to draw from this video alone. Fewer than 30 students were interviewed, hardly a representative proportion of the BYU student population. Ackerman says, at the end, that only three students recognized he was wearing blackface —but he doesn’t show us these clips, so there could well be other selective editing going on. Clearly out of thousands of people, there must be some somewhere who knows a great deal more about American (and specifically black) history.

Rather than inspiring a rant about the homogeneity of BYU, this video raises larger issues that have implications on a national level. The first has to do with knowledge of history. What should be basic and necessary facts, like Rosa Park’s name and Malcolm X’s legacy, have apparently become intellectual luxuries. A gaping hole in knowledge of black history means a gaping hole in knowledge of American history, and for a country that prides itself on its patriotism, this is unacceptable. We cannot be particularly angry at these students when chances are the average American couldn’t answer Ackerman’s questions any more eloquently — this, in my opinion, is the bigger problem. Granted, these are students at an academically prestigious university and should know better. Yet, the lesson here should quite literally be a lesson: black history is American history, and to know American history, students must know about bus boycotts and the Nation of Islam.

The second, perhaps more obvious issue stems from Ackerman’s use of blackface and the students’ impressions of African Americans. Ackerman purports to be fighting ignorance with ignorance, but most op-eds and commentaries on this video agree that using blackface pushed his idea over the edge, so to speak — it took it from something that could be a potentially amusing or interesting idea and gave it a much more offensive edge. For decades, both pre- and post-abolition, some white actors would put on shows in which they painted themselves in blackface and caricatured the way they believed black people lived and acted, enforcing discriminatory stereotypes. Ackerman may be trying to make a point about how few black people the average BYU student encounters, but he does so in such a controversial manner that it becomes offensive.

The students’ impressions only to add to the sad vestiges of racism that continue to permeate our society. One guy pretends to be what can only be described by the word “gangsta,” another does a Snoop Dogg-esque limp-walk combination, and one girl pretends to be black by offering up “Oh hey girl, what you doin’ over there?” Worse than this, in my opinion, are the two separate guys who, when Ackerman asks about dating on campus, say they know girls who have “jungle fever.” One girl claims white guys who act like black guys are “tools,” while black guys who act like white guys are “classy.” I have heard people say before that these sorts of comments are meant to be jokes, just funny little things that everyone knows don’t really apply in real life. It’s precisely this attitude that creates cause for concern. After subjecting African Americans to slavery, emancipation and the subsequent Jim Crow laws, physical violence, explicit and implicit discrimination, and the consequent socioeconomic troubles, is it really fair to say we’re “just joking” when throwing these sorts of stereotypes around? Is it really fair to claim that there are no negative connotations? As rhetorical as those questions were, I plan to answer them anyway: no.

This is the ultimate take-away point: What does it say about our society when there are people who know nothing about black history except for the stereotypes? What does this say about our chances for better integration and societal cohesion? Whether there are clear-cut answers to these questions or not, Ackerman’s video transcends basic concerns about BYU and pinpoints much larger issues.

Clare Duncan ’14 (cduncan@college) thinks there’s a problem when students can’t tell the difference between a 20^th century civil rights activist and a 16^th century Bavarian monk.

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