When I was in my late teens, caring for my brother who was only nine months, I remember getting filthy looks from people in the supermarket. A group of old ladies who were comfortable judging me based purely on assumption, tutting ‘teenage parents today, there are so many of them,’ loud enough so that I could hear, encouraged me to speak up one day. ‘Actually,’ I informed the gaggle of old gals, ‘he’s my brother.’
As if a sigh of relief had washed over them, they clucked and cooed over the baby, and told me what a dear I was for helping my parents. It made me really mad. So I asked them what difference it made if he were my brother or my son? They couldn’t answer, but seemed shocked that I would suggest there shouldn’t be a difference in their reaction.
It made me wonder why it is that Australian society often looks down their noses at young mothers. How judging would my neighbourhood be, if he were indeed my son? And would I be treated any differently if I were living in the 70s? Australian teenage pregnancy was at its peak 40 years ago. True, people married earlier back then. Unless I was hitched I would probably be forced into a young mothers’ home, living in invisibility until the birth and then forced to give the baby up for adoption. So not much has changed really, except that young mothers are no longer allowing themselves to feel shame or be sent away. Instead they step out to get groceries, just like everyone else.
Studies have shown that teenage pregnancy is likely to “affect” girls from particular backgrounds. The very word “affect” makes it sound like some terrible disease. Teenagers from poor families, violent and abusive childhoods, or whose parents had babies when they were young are more likely to fall pregnant when they’re a teen. But does it really matter who they are, how they speak and what level of education they hold, or what their background is? Perhaps it matters for statistical purposes, scientific studies and welfare, but it does not mean that generalities and probabilities from theory should be used to judge their parenting capabilities in reality.
Putting judgment aside, it would seem more important to ensure that communities don’t spend their time complaining about what a problem it is and how to prevent it. For some it’s not a problem, for others it is definitely a challenge, but there doesn’t seem to be any point in questioning how it happened (because it’s pretty obvious and I’m sure we’re all aware of the ‘birds and the bees’).The fact of the matter is, it’s happening, and it will continue to happen as long as they’re are teenagers on this planet (i.e. forever). It affects many young girls and guys, as well as their families, education providers and friends (although some are less supportive than they should be). Rather than assume the worst of the teen parent/s or attempt predict the baby’s sad future, why not stand up and say ‘hey, here is a group of people I can help regardless of their background’. Because doing something about providing support is more proactive than complaining, which doesn’t do anything except contribute to the carbon dioxide levels.
How do I know this?
Women’s Health,
‘Teenage Pregnancy’,
23 April 2009
Klein, J.D.
“Adolescent pregnancy: Current trends and issues” (2005). Pediatrics, 116(1), 281 – 286.
20 April 2009
Aviva Ziegler, Plumpton High Babies VHS (2000)
Parliamentary Group on Population and Development Australia,
“Sexual and Reproductive Health and the Millennium Development Goals in the Australian Aid Program- the Way Forward.” 28th April 2009.
Raising Children Network.
“Parenting as Teenager.”
21 April 2009
The Medical Journal of Australia. MJA 2003; 179 (3): 158-161
“Current priorities for adolescent sexual and reproductive health in Australia.”
This work is licenced under an Attribution licence.
© 2008. First published on actnow.com.au
Tell me about creative commons licences