Elizabeth F. Clayton

My mother had pre-menopausal breast cancer in her mid 40's – a presentation more likely to be caused by genetic factors. Because of this, I have a high risk of getting breast cancer, and am a good candidate for getting the test to see if I carry the "breast cancer gene." But I'm not getting tested.

A few weeks ago a study from University of Washington came out on the problems with the current genetic test for breast cancer, which specifically tests for mutations in the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes. The study found that the test missed about 12 percent of gene mutations in breast cancer patients with strong family histories of breast or ovarian cancer.

The response in the press was mainly one of horror – a feeling that we need to get a better test out there fast. But one important point was overlooked – that getting the genetic test for the breast cancer mutation might end up being bad for women.

Since genetic testing is still relatively new, no one knows how it's going to be used in the future. If I test positive for a gene mutation a health insurance company could use those results to not take me on as a patient, or call it a "pre-existing condition" and not cover me for any breast cancer treatments. My GYN has discouraged me from getting the test because of this.

Scary, isn't it?

Although my mom survived, and is doing great six years since finishing treatment, I'm anything but casual about the force of the disease. Two of my mom's best friends, both of whom were diagnosed around the same time as my mom, died this past summer after their cancer came back.

Of course, every woman has to make her own decision on this. Getting the test is the right thing for some people. Hell, getting a pre-emptive double mastectomy is the right thing for some women with a strong family history of breast cancer. (I like my breasts too much for this to be right for me, however.) I just hope that all women think long and hard, and talk with their doctors about the pros and cons of getting this test instead of just rushing out and doing it. If we all act as if we're going to get breast cancer and are diligent about watching for it, hopefully more cases will be caught early and more women will survive this devastating disease.

Elizabeth F. Clayton

Physical appearance is a topic that often comes up in discussions of feminism. Many feminists feel strongly that they do not want to be judged on their looks, that any acknowledgment of beauty, specifically a more traditional kind of feminine attractiveness, is tied to the objectification and consequent subjugation of women.

But there is a power that comes with attractiveness, and using this power is not contrary to being a feminist. Yes, beauty is something that is not "fair," not everyone gets an equal share of the beautiful pie. Intelligence isn't distributed equally either.

Much has been made lately of discussion of appearances in profiles written about powerful women, specifically profiles from the New York Times. Is someone supposed to write a full-length profile without mentioning how the person looks? Obviously not. And, despite what people say, the same rules apply to men. People like people who are attractive. You don't need to be a six foot tall leggy blonde, but honey, there's nothing wrong with working what you have.

Anyone can make themselves at least reasonably attractive. Get a great haircut. Macy's has a free personal shopper service you can take advantage of. Think about it – if you're interviewing two candidates for a job, both have the exact same qualifications, can you honestly say that you're not going to be biased towards the one who looks more put together?

Some women are offended when men, treat them differently because of the way they look. I have just one thing to say: lighten up. Is it really offensive to have some guy buy you a drink? Or open a door? Or hand you a business card? You have to drive the car you're given, as a friend of mine says. Translation: women have a bum deal. Is taking away one of our major bargaining chips really what we want to do?

I guess what this comes down to is that I don't have a problem being objectified to a certain degree. Maybe this is because I know my own worth – my parents made sure that I never felt restricted by being born a girl. Yes, I realize that I am part of the elite upper-middle-class-white-girl world, and so experience a particular way of being a woman in society. I know that I can I do anything I set my mind to. And most of the time I really don't care if what gets me in the door is some guy staring at my breasts.

Elizabeth Clayton is an aspiring senator/diva and a Mills senior. The title of her column comes from a 1940s advertisement for Pink Pills, marketed to help teen girls who have "outgrown their strength." Write to her at photo@millsweekly.com

Elizabeth F. Clayton

The right to control your body is one that is inherent to being human. It's something we're all taught as children; you have the right to say who does or does not touch you where. Our bodies are our own personal realms, spaces that belong to only us. Why then, do we abandon this belief when it comes to women?

That's exactly what the anti-abortion movement says: if you're female, then we know better than you do what choices you should make about your body. There are plenty of reasons that make women feel they are unable to have a child (or another child.) Hell, sometimes maybe a woman just doesn't want a child. Do we really want more kids being raised by parents more worried about, well, anything, than they are about their children's well being?

Even the terminology used in this debate is anti-woman. Take "pro-life" for example. I think that abortions should be legal and accessible, does this mean that I'm "anti-life"? No, it just means that the "life" I'm concerned with is the life that's actual, not the hypothetical life of the fetus (yell all you want about life beginning at conception, but I'm sorry, if it's smaller than a goldfish it definitely does not have the same rights that I do.)

As tired as we may be about listening to the abortion debate day after day, we have to keep fighting the good fight. Because it matters. It matters to the 14-year-old high school student, the welfare mom, the corporate executive with no time or desire for a child. It matters to my unmarried great-great aunt who shot herself in 1930s rural Alabama when she became pregnant and felt that the shame she would bring on herself and her family was worse than death. And it matters to my grandmother, who was seven when she found her favorite aunt dead on the back porch that day when she came home from school.

As Bill Clinton famously said, abortions should be "safe, legal, and rare." Having an abortion is not a travesty, but having one can be mentally, physically and financially challenging to women. Of course, the best way to prevent abortions is to prevent pregnancies, which requires access to birth control and education about how to effectively use it, something that most people in the anti-choice movement are also against. A girl just can't win with those guys.

Elizabeth Clayton is an aspiring astronaut/soccer mom and a Mills senior. The title of her column comes from a 1940s advertisement for Pink Pills, marketed to help teen girls who have "outgrown their strength." Write to her at photo@millsweekly.com