Milk money

June 7, 2007 | When Oprah Winfrey profiled a young mother who was sending American women's excess breast milk to African AIDS orphans last year, the philanthropic project seemed immune to controversy. After all, these babies represented some of the most helpless and needy children on earth, and breast milk was supposed to offer them a six times greater chance of survival. The larger-than-life media-genic symbolism of it all -- American women giving their very bodily fluids to feed frail, desperate third-world foundlings -- made the project all the more irresistible. Jill Youse, a charming, self-effacing young woman from Minnesota with no background in activism, much less lactivism, had happened on the idea while trying to figure out a way to donate a freezer full of her own excess "liquid gold." When she spotted an online article about an orphanage in South Africa that wanted breast milk for AIDS orphans, she contacted it with her offer.

"They told me, 'You do know we're in Africa, don't you?'" she recalls. By the time she learned that the shipping would cost $2,000, she was already determined to get those babies her milk no matter what it cost her. Eventually, she arranged a less expensive (if more theatrical) way to transport the milk.

"I flew to Boston and met a staff member who was returning to Africa at the airport," she explains. "And I really thought that was the end of it."

But sometimes good publicity is the mother of invention. Newspaper articles about Youse's bit of charitable windmill tilting inspired other mothers with freezers full of translucent blue baggies to contact Youse about donating milk to AIDS orphans as well. Soon Youse was committed to arranging yet another shipment to Africa -- this time about 5,000 ounces from an assortment of donors. In the coming months Youse would partner with various corporations (like Quick International Courier), the most important of which would be Prolacta -- a for-profit milk bank based in Monrovia, Calif., which would screen donors, test their blood and milk, and pasteurize and store the milk to be sent in batches to various orphanages in Africa. "They stepped forward and committed to helping me," says Youse. "I'm very grateful for their generosity. In an ideal world for-profits step forward to help nonprofits. I'm so proud to partner with them."

The effort -- dubbed the International Breast Milk Project -- attracted yet more media attention, including a profile in Time.com, an interview with Foreign Policy and an appearance on "Oprah." "I don't know if people can relate to the Oprah effect," Youse laughs, "but it is real."

In the wake of the "Oprah" spot in October, the project was deluged with applicants. "We had agreed to process and send 10,000 ounces in 2007," Prolacta CEO Scott Elster says. "And we didn't know if Jill could actually collect that much. Suddenly we were overwhelmed."

According to Elster, between Dec. 29, 2006, when the project received its first shipment from a donor, and May 31, 2007, the IBMP had received over 53,000 ounces. "We were totally unprepared," he adds. "We didn't have the staff to handle the calls -- so we had to hire someone."

But in the meantime, some donors were wondering exactly where all their breast milk was going. Frequently asked questions on the IBMP Web site only confirmed that Prolacta had committed to a total of 10,000 ounces, while statements from Youse referring to 800 donor applicants suggested that far more milk was coming in. Some critics guessed that the milk banks had received something close to 400,0000 ounces.

Where was the all the milk going? According to some prospective donor mothers, e-mail responses from Prolacta employees were vague, reiterating the 10,000-ounce commitment but not accounting for the veritable spigot of mama milk that Oprah's coverage had helped open. After Mothering Magazine began promoting IBMP last week, Jennifer Laycock, aka author of the Lactivist blog, finally posed the question: "Is the International Breast Milk Project a Scam?"

Thus was born a tempest in a breast pump. Laycock's postings summed up the questions encircling the project: Was Prolacta selling milk meant for African orphans for its average $35 an ounce? Was Jill Youse on the Prolacta payroll? Had Prolacta taken IBMP under its wing to boost its public image and fill its empty freezers?

Earlier this week, Prolacta and Youse attempted to clear the milky waters. According to Elster, all milk received from the inception of the IBMP project to May 31 of this year will go to Africa. After May 31, however, IBMP will send 25 percent of all donations received to Africa, and 75 percent will be sold to Prolacta for $1 an ounce. What kind of profit margin does this mean for Prolacta? Potentially a motherlode. If, as Elster told me, the average donation runs around 180 ounces, then that would mean that 135 ounces (75 percent) "sold" to Prolacta would generate around $4,725 (at $35 an ounce) for the company, or about $3,890 after subtracting the expense of donor processing (about $700 per donor) and the cash payment to IBMP.

Jill Youse emphasizes that since she doesn't take a salary or employ any staff, all the money IBMF generates from this arrangement will go toward helping African orphans. She says she's thrilled with the new arrangement. "We ask for this because we think the money will go a lot farther," she explains. "Prolacta just keeps saying yes to whatever we ask for."

Next page: Should we really be sending frozen breast milk to Africa?