Nothing makes me feel further outside the circle of strong, smart,
purposeful feminists than when I'm feeding my babies. Specifically,
when I'm breastfeeding them. I feel like an equality-now fraud when I'm
reminded of the fact that I willingly tie myself to my kids in such a
life-or-death dependency, for a long, long time, without actually
minding that much and even though I don't have to. It's as if, deep
down, all I need is a decent casserole recipe and a sink that shines to
make my life feel complete.
Which, I promise you, is not the case.
That's why "breast is best" (the catchiest public health jingle
since "an apple a day ...") and other espoused benefits of nursing have
always been a soft cushion for me -- an agreeable and not terribly
personal reason why I do something many find so disagreeable.
Writer Hanna Rosin has gone and ruined it all in her piece, "The Case Against Breastfeeding" in this month's Atlantic, basically concluding that evidence of health/emotional/intelligence gains for breastfed kids is as thin as foremilk.
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