My son was a planned surprise, which means I wanted him but didn’t think he could ever happen. What was even more unexpected were the feelings that arose around my ability to care for him. It took years for me to figure out that a lot of my struggles as a new mother were directly related to my history as a sexual assault survivor.
One of the unanticipated difficulties was breastfeeding. Eighteen years ago, when my son was born, breastfeeding was not quite as supported in my city as it is now. Just this year an ordinance was passed in support of public breastfeeding, so you can imagine the atmosphere nearly two decades ago!
I had experienced miscarriages and been told I probably wouldn’t be able to have a child. When I found out I was pregnant again after I had given up trying, I was thrilled. Wanting to be “supermom,” I researched everything I could at the local library. I intended to babywear, use holistic treatments, and breastfeed exclusively. I attended a La Leche League meeting and met with a lactation consultant at my clinic. I was going to give my baby everything I did not have as an adoptee in a poor family.
I was open with my doctor about my history of sexual abuse. The clinic provided me with a counselor, nutritionist, lactation consultant, and mentor throughout my pregnancy. I was lucky to have so many resources and support to work through my fears and traumas.
Sumayyah Talibah, a writer, jewelry maker, mother to boys aged 11 and 7, and survivor, says: “I didn’t breastfeed. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Breasts were always sexual for me, having been well-endowed in that area for all of my life. My breasts were usually the first thing noticed about me, commented on, and touched, often without permission. It’s like I had some sort of block when I went to try [to breastfeed], panic attack and all, remembering my experiences.” Like many other moms, she went on to add that she was shamed by nurses in the hospital for not trying to breastfeed.
As for me, I found hospital staff unsupportive of my desire to breastfeed. They refused to let me keep my son in the room with me overnight. Fortunately I had ample support once we got home. I had been taught that “you know he is latched on correctly because it doesn’t hurt,” one of the breastfeeding claims I still side-eye. When he latched on, it sent a shooting pain through my breast and down my spine, and continued to hurt the entire time he ate. I would tense up in anticipation of the pain. I told my lactation consultant, who explained to me that I had a rare condition that would not improve. I tried to nurse for another week or so anyway, but when he developed a serious illness, we decided it was better to not have the breastfeeding stress as well. It wasn’t until later that I was told mine was a reaction often experienced by sexual assault survivors, though I still do not know the name of the condition.
Brooke Benoit, a mother of 6, artist, writer and editor, shared: “When the topic of breastfeeding came up during my first pregnancy, my reaction was no. Why would I do that? Why would I give my breasts to another person all day every day for some indefinite period of time? My husband was surprised by my response. I was a very all-things-natural, loving person and he had assumed I would be a give-all kind of Mama, which I was aiming for, but it had also been lost on him (and myself) why I would even consider an elective c-section. At that time I could not bring the feelings to the forefront of my brain or my tongue because I am a survivor of sexual abuse and am not always in touch with all the reasons why I do certain things out of striving to maintain autonomy over my body at all times. One such thing is that I do not like anyone touching my sexual bits when I am not in a sexual mode.”
How sexual trauma can come back to us during pregnancy, childbirth, and postpartum varies. Our reactions are not uniform, and there are many possible reactions a survivor might have that are not readily seen as related to a history of trauma. We often live with shame, guilt, and isolation because we do not realize trauma is the root of our issues. When we struggle to breastfeed but cannot articulate why, it is also difficult to get the appropriate support. Lactation consultants, postpartum doulas, and other support providers should be better educated in sexual trauma and prepared to help parents with such history recognize if that may be what is causing difficulties. All those supporting new parents should be open to modifying their approaches when encouraging breastfeeding, realizing that someone may not know or feel safe enough to say why they have a visceral negative reaction to trying. Unfortunately, there is not much quality intersectional writing (or even thoughtful consideration) on the needs and experiences of sexual assault survivors during pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum.
Chloe Viening-Butler, mother of four boys, artist, poet, and activist shares: “I actually didn’t have any issues at all with that [breastfeeding]. Well… at least until I weaned. While I was weaning and was ready to be done, but the toddler wasn’t ready, I would feel really gross. The only thing that helped me then was to have a safe place or person to speak it out loud to. I wrote about and talked about it, and I was fortunate enough to have people who said directly ‘it’s okay and normal to feel that way’…then at the very least I had put language to my discomfort and heard someone say it was something I wasn’t alone in.”
Tytina Sanders-Bey — lactation counselor, doula, and mom of five kids — suggests there are additional benefits for a survivor when breastfeeding. “At first I was ashamed of my breasts. They were often touched by my first offender,” she says. “Once I began to willingly have sex with a partner, my breasts were often off-limits. I wouldn’t even take my bra off. When I had my first baby and learned about breastfeeding, it actually boosted my confidence. Not only did I have milk to feed my baby, but I felt sexy and it was okay for me to feel sexy. I had that child at a young age, but she was my way away from the boogie man forever.”
Sexual assault survivors have different feelings about their bodies. Some may be very concerned about autonomy, while others might not feel as if their bodies belong to them. Pregnancy and motherhood can amplify these feelings, or cause a major shift. Many survivors look for ways they can exert control over their body, and may feel that breastfeeding either takes away that control or liberates them in some way. Discovering that your body is capable of incredible things, like bringing forth a life and feeding it, can be quite empowering and even enable you to reclaim your body.
If you are a sexual assault survivor and thinking about breastfeeding, here are some things to keep in mind:
- If you do not want to try to breastfeed, you do not have to. We have flipped in the last 20 years from little support for breastfeeding to the prescriptive pushing of breastfeeding. You do not owe anyone else an explanation for your choice. Know that you are not alone, and you are not a bad mother for doing what is best for your unique situation. Your baby is not going to starve or have some terrible illness because you fed them formula. If bonding is a concern, reliving trauma does not make for a happy bonding experience either. Find other ways to interact with your baby. After all, no one has ever claimed that your partner’s bond with the baby is wrecked by a bottle, so yours won’t be either!
- If you do want to breastfeed, set realistic expectations for yourself with a no-shame rule, and gather your supports. You may, like others, discover that breastfeeding doesn’t actually cause the feelings and discomfort you expected. Or, like me, you may discover that it causes other feelings you were not prepared for. Your feelings, whatever they are, are valid. Do not try to repress them, but figure out how you would like to deal with them to get through nursing anyway. This may mean that you need to take additional time to yourself before or after feedings. It may mean you take up meditation or seek outside help to talk about how you are feeling. No matter how many times I’m told, I still need to be reminded that taking care of my own needs is not selfish. Being aware of your own needs and honoring them helps you to be there for your baby.
- Prepare your body and think about how you can set boundaries. You may decide that you cannot breastfeed exclusively, or that expressing your milk is less triggering than actually nursing. Brooke says: “One thing I nipp(l)ed in the bud was that some women allow their baby to play with their other breast and nipple while nursing. For me, no way. I have now breastfed six children for two years each and when each one has begun their little explorations of my body while nursing, I gently hold their adorable teeny hand in mine and say ‘no.’ Babies are brilliant, you know, and mine have all respected this first boundary between their body and mine.”
- Have fun! Babies are marvelous, but let’s face it, they are also exhausting! Sexual assault survivors frequently find ourselves constantly on guard, anxious, and obsessed with perfection. Between the hormonal roller coaster and the sleep deprivation of parenting a new baby, these pressures and tendencies can increase. Find ways to have fun, however you define it, and give yourself permission to enjoy your new baby and new life.
Tags: aaminah shakur, babies, breastfeeding, health, mental health, parenting, sexual assault
Thanks so much for writing about this! I very much support breast feeding and think there needs to be a LOT more support for people who chose to breastfeed, but I remain dismayed at how very bullying some folks can be toward people who decide not to breast feed. Articles like this are so, so priceless for so many reasons.
I absolutely agree! I have written in the Outlaw Midwives zines before about how prescriptive we have become about breastfeeding, not understanding that there are many reasons that someone may struggle or that breastfeeding might not actually be the best thing for their situation. I was guilted for years by people for my “failure” and I just do not see what good it does anyone to wrestle with feelings of shame for the difficult decisions we make.
Bless this post forever. Thanks.
This is such an important topic that gets overlooked frequently. Considering the statistics of how many folks survive sexual trauma, the odds are high that some of those folks will go on to bear children. It does a profound disservice to new parents to not address this aspect of it. Penny Simkin, author of the Birth Partner, has a really great book about birth for sexual assault survivors, as well.
Great article, and thanks so much for writing about this, and the Toast for publishing it.
A lot of us actually have critiques of the Penny Simkin book, but I agree, it’s an issue that isn’t discussed openly and often enough and you can never have too many resources or too much support. 🙂
oh, interesting! I’d love to hear your critiques, or read elsewhere about them.
Every survivor I know who has read it has said it didn’t speak to their needs. Further, it is lacking in diverse voices. For women of color, LGBTQI, and gender-variant/trans people, there are complex issues that are left out of these narratives. One of my goals is to help bring those marginalized voices and more complicated stories to others.
I really wish all lactation consultants and neonatal nurses would read this. Neither my son nor I took to breastfeeding after my emergency c-section. The nurses would actually move my own hands out of the way and manipulate my breasts without asking me first. After they left the room, I would cry. I felt violated. After three months of trying I eventually gave up on breastfeeding altogether and now I pump exclusively.
Reason #19385713205 why it’s so important to desexualize women’s breasts in our society. They become yet another part of a woman’s body that an abuser may feel sexually entitled to because of a media-induced oversexualization of a body part with A MUCH MORE IMPORTANT PURPOSE THAN YOUR SEXUAL PLEASURE, THNX. Obviously this goes for any and every other body part—we should just stop the sense of sexual entitlement in general ASAP, no matter the body part—but this is something that I honestly hadn’t even thought of, and now I’m pissed off. Kudos to you for making your voice (and these other voices of the other women with similar experiences) heard!
Wait, what? Lots of women enjoy having their breasts be sexual! I think the goal should be focussing on a society which only consensu ally sexualises, not one where women’s breasts are desexualised.
Thank you for your thoughts, Rachel. I am actually with Mary on this point. While I agree that breasts have important functions outside of sex, there is nothing wrong with breasts also being sexualized. They are marvelous nerve centers that create wonderful pleasure for many people and there is nothing wrong or shameful about that. It’s just important for us to realize that everyone has the right to use their breasts according to their own preferences, needs, and values. The issue of abusers feeling sexually entitled to our bodies is about consent and the larger culture of entitlement. This is true for every part of our bodies and the solution has to be addressing those root issues.
This post should be shared with all OB practices, birthing centers, The Farm… just, everywhere. Thank you for writing it!
“One such thing is that I do not like anyone touching my sexual bits when I am not in a sexual mode.”
This resonated with me, deeply. I’ve never been able to put that feeling into words–thank you.
Me, too! I always thought I was the only one. I am trying to be honest about my feelings regarding my body- it is mine, and mine alone.
I have a thirteen-week-old and breastfed exclusively for nearly six weeks, and have predominantly breastfed with one or two bottles of formula since six weeks, and I am SO ANGRY about breastfeeding promotion and “support”.
I am not a sexual assault survivor (well, not of more than casual groping kind), and I don’t want to hijack a sexual assault survivors’ space with my own rants about breastfeeding promotion, but yeah, you absolutely don’t have to be a non-breastfeeder or a survivor of serious sexual assault to be pissed off with the “breast is best” mantra.
Mary, I’m you two and a half years and one additional child in the future, and I agree. And I feel a great responsibility to avoid any semblance of spreading breastfeeding “support” that is really anti-bottle, woman-policing nonsense.
Uhhuh – I’m with you. The tips at the end are great advice also for women who are not abuse survivors as well. Breastfeeding involved a lot of pain and misery for me despite not having these issues, and it was very difficult for me to go easy on myself because I wanted so much to give my baby the best &etc. But the exhaustion from trying so hard and the pain was unsustainable. I talked to a counselor about it a lot. Now the kid is two-and-a-half and totally fine, very healthy.
I am a sexual assault survivor, but regardless I would be furious at breastfeeding promotion and “support.” The really bad prenatal and postpartum care I received, including the shaming by militant lactation activists (many of whom were public health employees who have cornered the market, as it were) when I couldn’t produce enough milk, pretty much robbed me of full participation in, and enjoyment of, the first year of my son’s life. I’m still so angry at them for this that I would happily enact violent revenge on them if my own conscience and external consequences didn’t deter me.
This is amazing. Thank you SO MUCH for sharing your insights.
Thank you.
I’ve never seriously wanted to have kids, but in the moments where i’ve kind of wondered “maybe…?” about it, I realize that the idea of being in a situation where my bodily autonomy is that compromised (not just via the pregnancy/birth process, but with the way everyone thinks they can just touch you at their whim) filled me with cold, nauseous panic. I have nightmare where I’m pregnant and can’t remember how I got that way. I was aware of those feelings even before I connected them to my abuse/assault history. It’s brilliant that you’ve put this phenomenon into words.
and this quoted bit:
“I…am not always in touch with all the reasons why I do certain things out of striving to maintain autonomy over my body at all times”
struck a huge chord as with me. I am aware of so many things that I do to this end, it makes me realize how many more I must do and be unaware of.
SAME! I am reeling from the fact that this is actually something other sexual assault survivors feel. I always assumed I was just kind of a freak to feel this way about breastfeeding. Seriously, thank goodness for The Toast.
I *kind of* enjoyed breastfeeding, but I still felt that way. I also love the Toast for this.
Thank you for writing this. I’m at the stage where I think I maybe probably want kids, but when I think about breastfeeding, I suddenly start feeling panicky. As a survivor of CSA, I think this sums it up for me: “One such thing is that I do not like anyone touching my sexual bits when I am not in a sexual mode.”
I think about it and my reaction is just ‘no’. I think part of the fear comes from the idea of my body being out of my control, and part of it comes from fear that it could feel sexual in a completely inappropriate context (hmm, fear of your body feeling sexual when you don’t want to feel sexual – where could that come from!).
I’ve probably got another year or two before it becomes a pressing issue, but it’s a real relief to be able to read the reactions and experiences of other survivors. Thank you.
becoming aroused during breastfeeding is something that can happen. It DOES NOT mean you are aroused because you are attracted to your baby sexually. as a CSA survivor I’m really glad I had a freind who told me about the arousal. I could plan for it before hand.
Thank you for this post. It is powerful! I found breastfeeding to be part of my healing.
“Why would I do that? Why would I give my breasts to another person all day every day for some indefinite period of time?”
Holy fuck. Fellow CSA survivor here. I can’t even tell you what a relief it was to read this post. It was like turning on a light in a dark room to discover that I’m actually in the company of lots of folks who totally understand where I’m coming from. The idea of giving over a part of my body in demand every day for days and weeks and months has always simultaneously scared the living crap out of me and made me furious. Aaminah, than you for this post!
Me too, and I never connected that with the rage, irritation, and disgust I feel when I read the WHO (which I think is full of S.H.I.T. anyway, with regard to breastfeeding) statement about breastfeeding until age two (which I couldn’t do anyway because my combo-feeding kid was all “eh, that’s enough, I’m done” at eight months). Or the desire to head-punch anyone who said complacently and warmly and fuzzily that as a breastfeeding mother I should definitely expect to experience letdown for years whenever any baby cried (which didn’t happen–my letdown didn’t even happen in response to my own baby crying). I had this kind of primordial “why the FUCK would I let anyone do that to me for that long or be at the physical beck and call of THE FUCKING WORLD” rage feeling, that I was weirdly totally unaware of, other than feeling vaguely ashamed of it. I certainly didn’t know WHY I was feeling it.
Me, too! I always thought I was the only one. I am trying to be honest about my feelings regarding my body- it is mine, and mine alone.
Thank you for writing this, and in particular, for mentioning weaning in this context. While I prepared as best I could for the possibility of negative feelings connected with breastfeeding stemming from my childhood abuse, like Chloe, my breastfeeding experience has been relatively positive, until I became pregnant again and began to consider weaning. With nursing aversion in my first trimester, the feelings of my skin crawling and dissociation that I’d come to experience with physical contact in the wake of my abuse came back, and while those feelings have subsided, I find myself caught in a strange emotional space, trying to figure out how best to use this very physical part of me to fulfill myself, and in some ways, my family. I think these bodily negotiations in the context of our intimate relationships with our partners can be difficult, but at least have some kind of vocabulary, while the negotiations of our bodies in the context of our children seems more difficult, at least to me. I have no problem telling my husband not to touch me if I don’t want to be touched, but it feels so much more difficult to tell my toddler the same thing.
All I want to say is Thank You for writing this! I won’t get into my story but I can’t stand the bashing that goes on in this day in age towards women who don’t breastfeed. The self righteous women who can’t fathom to think that not every mother is in the same situation as they are. While it really is no one else’s business why a mother would choose not to, there might actually be valid physical or psychological reasons why one can’t. You get bashed for not trying hard enough and feel guilty for not being able to push aside your demons and sacrifice yourself completely. I really hope this article is read by both those who need support as well as the breastfeeding bashers.
thank you so much! I am a survivor and personally didn’t have a problem (I think I disassociate a lot, and that worked in my favour) and am looking into becoming an IBCLC and this had not crossed my mind! I’m actually feeling quite embarrassed about it not entering into my thought process! esp. because I’m SO vocal about breastfeeding.
As a mental health care provider who specializes in the perinatal experience, as well as an International Board Certified Lactation Consultant, I have worked with parents who echo all of the sentiments expressed here and more. Some of the most challenging situations seem to involve 1) the intention/desire to breastfeed combined with a great struggle to do so and/or an inability to breastfeed at all or in the way expected, 2) profoundly negative or mixed feelings about breastfeeding which are met with judgment, no support, and/or no safe opportunity to express, explore, address, or accommodate in a customized care plan, and 3) experiencing not breastfeeding as a significant loss with no support for grieving that loss. Judgment just adds insult to injury. Every parent’s context is different and deserving of respect. Every parent deserves support as they navigate the challenges of new parenthood. Every perinatal care provider should seek education about the impact of sexual abuse/assault on the perinatal experience so that they are equipped to provide sensitive and appropriate care that does not further traumatize the parents they seek to serve.