It started with a TV commercial. I can’t remember what was being advertised. All I know is that it showed a father holding a newborn baby, and I started to cry — not out of sadness, but awe. A baby, a beautiful baby!
Look, I’m human, and as such, I’ve always found babies cute — but, suddenly, right around my 28th birthday earlier this year, crossing paths with them caused me to grab the arm of my acquaintance as though I’d seen a celebrity. Reactions formerly reserved for baby animals began to apply to human infants. Noticing this shift, a friend who hadn’t seen me for a while remarked, “Since when are you baby crazy?” The real question is: Since when did I become such a cliché?
It’s not that I’m ready to reproduce — good God, no — but I do want to have a baby eventually, though the possibility seems many years off. Will I be ready — emotionally, professionally, financially, romantically — before my fertility nose-dives? This longing feels physically acute — a twitching in my ovaries, an itching in my arms to cradle. In the past, I’d always written off the cliché of the woman in her late 20s or early 30s with a “ticking biological clock” as a sexist trope. Now I find myself reconsidering and wondering how real it is, and why it is.
While common wisdom has it that this desire grows throughout a woman’s 30s, Anna Rotkirch, the director of the Population Research Institute in Finland, says studies have shown “the urge appears to be strongest in the late 20s.” (Dude, I know.) Some women, however, “say they have felt ‘baby fever’ more or less intensely since their early teenage years,” she says. “Other women feel it for the first time in their late 20s.” (You heard it here first: Not all women are the same.)
Rotkirch reported in a paper in the Journal of Evolutionary Psychology that her Finnish interview subjects described the phenomenon in terms of “a painful longing in my whole being” or an “unbelievable aching,” sometimes accompanied by the sensation of having “empty arms” or breasts that “became sensitive and hard.” In a related survey, she found that 58 percent of male respondents and 78 percent of female respondents reported having “experienced a strong desire to have a child of [their] own” — although this seems less a measure of sudden, acute longing than of a general desire to reproduce at some time.
As for why this alleged phenomenon might exist, Rotkirch says we know very little.
“All existing studies use written texts or questionnaires,” she says, which tell us more about how women perceive their “baby lust” rather than the actual origins. Still, Rotkirch has found evidence of a “hormonal underpinning,” she says, with “little influence” of social factors like education or income.
In her paper, she pointed out that, in terms of evolutionary biology, “the ‘default mode’ of the female body is to have experienced both nurturing and pregnancies by the early 20s.” Rotkirch suggested that “longing for a baby can develop as a by-product of hormonal changes that evolved to prepare the woman for motherhood,” she wrote. “Such changes could be induced by falling in love; the ‘nesting behavior’ related to settling down and starting to live with a partner; exposure to infants; and/or by the processes of aging.”
If evolutionary theories are too caveman-y for your taste, there is the undeniable fact that women’s fertility begins to decline in their late 20s, right around the average time that baby panic sets in. She says, “My informed guess is that baby fever is one mechanism for reproductive timing” — or, in other words, a way to urge that “now is a good time to have a baby.” It seems to make intuitive sense, but the science on exactly how this mechanism might work is just not there.
Clearly, though, many women do not ever feel the pull of the ticking clock, or don’t feel it distinctly, and “part of the variation is probably genetic,” she says, “as with most things.” It’s also important to note that men have been found to encounter baby fever too: In an exhaustive study surveying the potential causes of the phenomenon, Gary Brase, an associate professor of psychology at Kansas State University, found that men experience it, just to a lesser degree than women do.
Adding to the lists of “could-bes,” baby fever might just be a “superfluous” feeling arising from “general interest in parenting,” she says. (Although, if a nurturing instinct were the sole explanation, pets would be a far more effective — not to mention cheaper and easier — solution to baby fever.) “At an age were most women in our evolutionary past would have been mothers, or at least surrounded by babies and children, many Western women are not, and this may create a situation where you feel a strong urge to have an outlet and object for your maternal emotions.” Rotkirch points to research on baboons and chimpanzees showing a clear variation in maternal behavior: “Some are very interested in mothering and training to become a mother,” she says, while others are not.
But it’s impossible to ignore the social influence and culture of baby mania — just consider the pregnancy porn in celebrity tabloids and the high-profile exhortations to hurry up and settle down before it’s too late! Then, too, girls are often trained as nurturers from the time they’re in the bassinet. However, Brase, who has studied the issue for nearly a decade, found that beliefs about gender roles — for example, a woman’s conviction that her proper place is in the home — were not strong predictors of baby fever. “Desire for a baby is not strongly connected to people’s gender roles,” he told me.
There is good evidence of a different kind of social influence, though. A Swedish study found that women are more likely to have babies shortly after their co-workers have babies. Is might be a coincidence that my sudden baby ache arrived right around the time that my peers started getting pregnant, or it might not. Within a couple of months of each other, two friends, a family member and a co-worker, all but a handful of years older than me, announced that they had a baby on board. Brase also found that one of the strongest predictors of baby fever was prior positive experiences with babies.
Regardless of whether it stems from our evolutionary roots, there’s no denying that baby fever as a cultural phenomenon or topic of discussion is “a very new and ‘social’ thing,” Rotkirch says. “This is due to the fact that in contemporary developed societies, we grow sexually mature younger but start having babies later than in most other societies through history,” she says. “There is more time to be physiologically mature for a baby without actually having one.”
It’s also the case that women’s greater choices and freedom has resulted in “more ambivalence and decision making,” she says, over whether to have a baby, as well as when and with whom. There are also greater potential barriers related to education and career. Rotkirch found in surveying women that “the longing usually awoke when having a child would theoretically have been possible as the woman was basically healthy and had a satisfying couple relationship,” but “circumstances opposed it, usually the woman’s own life plans, problems in reproductive health, or the attitude of her male partner.”
In an attempt at clarity amid all the hypotheticals, Brase offers, “The short answer is that it is most likely a combination of biology, circumstances and personality.” Does my baby-ache come from a basic, biological imperative? Probably in part. But it’s the tension that results from that urge running up against the constraints of reality that makes it so acute. Without a tension between the two, the ache would simply be an urge put into action.
Secret Service agents, with their impenetrable black sunglasses and unwavering stoicism, seem anonymous, sexless beings. They are rigorously trained to sacrifice all, including their lives, in the name of their president. And yet even they, in their nun-like devotion, are vulnerable to the lure of easy sex.
At least, that’s the narrative playing out in the news today surrounding allegations of misconduct involving Secret Service agents and a prostitute — possibly prostitutes, plural — in Cartagena, Colombia, ahead of the president’s visit there. The media has been whipped into a frenzy — finally, another sex scandal! — while officials have been quick to offer condemnation, some claiming that the incident could put national security at risk.
Now, before getting all hot and bothered, let’s look at the actual evidence that’s available: This happened before the president arrived in the country. The agents in question are not members of the presidential protective division. Officials have said that some of the agents under investigation “may merely have been attending a party and violating curfew,” according to ABC News. Still, Republican congressmen Peter King (N.Y.) and Darrell Issa (Calif.) have claimed that the incident could leave the agents vulnerable to blackmail.
Dan Emmett, a two-decade Secret Service veteran, disagrees. “I spent six years in the CIA after I left the Secret Service and am well familiar with sexual blackmail espionage,” he told ABC. “It is a tactic, but I just don’t see that here. The Secret Service is not an intelligence organization, it’s law enforcement.” He also noted that prostitution is legal in parts of Colombia and that “this is not a criminal conduct type of situation, it’s strictly personal conduct.” (That’s an important distinction — although it might not spare the agents their jobs: Paul Morrissey, the Secret Service’s assistant director, told CNN that the agency has a “zero tolerance policy on personal misconduct.”)
Rep. Peter King, who was briefed on the investigation, says a “significant number” of the agents involved brought women back to their hotel on the night in question and that the women are “presumed” to be prostitutes. But it hasn’t been confirmed. It’s alleged that one of those women refused to leave the agents’ room the next morning until she was given money, but we have no clue whether there was negotiation over her services before she came to the room, or why there was an alleged disagreement over, or delay in, payment. Based on news reports, it could be that Secret Service agents had a massive orgy with Colombian prostitutes — or that one agent had a date that ended with a disagreement over money. We just don’t know.
No matter: The American public loves a good sex scandal, especially one involving politicians or law enforcement — and with this story, we have have bit of both. We never tire of seeing authority figures felled by their sexual appetites, do we? Stories like this function as an allegory for our own repressed desires, our terror of the power of sex, and fear of losing control. I have but one question: How long before the porn parody is made?
Earlier this week, when the CDC announced a record low in the teen birth rate, it listed two possible causes: “The impact of strong pregnancy prevention messages” and “increased use of contraception.” The Guttmacher Institute came out with an even stronger message: “The most recent decline in teen births can be linked almost exclusively to improvements in teens’ contraceptive use,” the organization said in a press release, which pointed to another CDC study for evidence.
But that hasn’t stopped conservatives from claiming that the drop is a result of, you guessed it, abstinence education and, paradoxically, an increase in abortions.
Janice Crouse of Concerned Women for America expressed her outrage over the CDC analysis: “They don’t even mention the fact there’s been a tremendous increase in effectiveness and pervasiveness of abstinence education. They don’t mention the fact that teen sexual activity, by their own admission, is down.” As Think Progress noted this week, teen birth rates are actually highest in states with abstinence-only policies. Not only has it been widely documented that such programs are largely ineffective, it’s also been shown that such programs may prevent contraception use.
Now, it’s true that teens — specifically 15- and 16-year-olds — are delaying sexual activity, but the change in contraceptive use over the years has been much more profound, and there has been no significant change in sexual activity among 18- and 19-year-olds. What’s more, there was no change in sexual activity among teens, period, from 2008 on, says Laura Lindberg, senior research associate at Guttmacher, so the recent decline in teens births certainly can’t be attributed to abstinence. Also, it should be noted that abstinence can be the result of any number of social influences, not necessarily abstinence-only education. (Consider research showing that teens who receive sex education are much more likely to delay sex.)
Bill Albert, chief program officer at the National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy, told me that arguments like Crouse’s have a problem of “simple chronology.” The teen birth rate peaked in 1991, “some years before the federal investment in abstinence education,” he said. “So it’s clearly not responsible for declines that began in 1991.” In fact, he says, “The teen birth rate increased during the height of the federal investment in abstinence education. Those who would credit abstinence [for the decline] should also take the blame for the increases.” Albert added, “Researchers who have looked at it closely over the past several years tend to believe it is contraception that is making the difference. If the abstinence education programs are helping teens to use contraception more consistently, then we should thank them, but I don’t think that’s what they’re doing.”
Crouse isn’t the only conservative twisting the latest CDC news to fit an anti-choice agenda: In a piece titled “Credit Abstinence With Helping Reduce Teen Birth Rates,” on the anti-choice site LifeNews.com, Kristan Hawkins writes, “While the birth rate has fallen, it must be made clear that the CDC is looking at the birth rate and not the pregnancy rate in teens,” and then claims that the teen abortion rate has increased, without citing any evidence. She must have missed this headline from February: “Teen Pregnancy, Abortion Rates at Record Low” — that’s according to research from Guttmacher. In 2008, the most recent year for which data is available, the teen abortion rate was down 59 percent from its peak in 1988.
Hawkins’ next target? Why, contraception, of course. “It cannot be stated enough that 50% of women who are using some form of contraception find themselves unexpectedly pregnant.” Again, she offers no citation, but being a contraception user (i.e., you have used a condom recently) is different from using it correctly every time. According to Guttmacher, 54 percent of women who have had abortions became pregnant during a month when they used contraception — but a minority of those women used the method correctly. She adds that “contraception is not an effective means of preventing pregnancy 100% of the time” — right, just 99.9 percent of the time, in the case of oral contraceptives, when used correctly. (Abstinence, when it’s followed 100 percent of the time, really has that compelling 0.1 percent advantage.)
If anything, such data should recommend a need for better sex education and access to long-term methods of birth control.
My favorite part of her rant, though, is where she equates Plan B with abortion. This anti-science party trick just does not get old! “Most importantly, we cannot the [sic] measure the usage of abortion-causing emergency contraception (Plan B) and the role it is now playing in decreasing teen birth rates.” For the millionth time: Plan B is an emergency contraception. It prevents ovulation and fertilization, just as with all hormonal contraceptives. It does not cause abortion if the egg has already implanted, which is the medical definition of pregnancy, according to both the National Institutes of Health and the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. In short: The increase she cites in Plan B use is actually yet more evidence for the argument that greater contraception use caused the decline in teen births.
This isn’t the first time this has happened, either: It happens every time the CDC releases a new report finding a continuing drop in teen pregnancy. What these reactions make clear is that no evidence — whether it’s on the benefits of making contraception widely accessible or the positive impact of comprehensive sex ed — will stop the war on sex. Where there is a scientific study providing such proof, there will be a right-winger willing to gesture vaguely in the direction of mythical evidence to the contrary. “In a way, I’m so tired of this debate,” says Albert. “Why don’t both sides declare victory and go home? If we say, ‘OK, you win,’ can we stop?”
Shain, a 31-year-old with a learning disability, text messages a woman “I love you” before even going out with her. Luke, a 23-year-old with Tourette’s, first meets his dating coach and uncontrollably yells out, “Horny bitch!” Richard, a 37-year-old with Asperger syndrome, flexes his biceps until his date has to hint for him to stop.
These are just a few of the stars, and awkward moments, of the new British documentary series that sets up disabled singles with a leading matchmaker service and then follows their search for love. The premise alone is ripe for debate — and it doesn’t help any that it’s called “The Undateables.”
The show, which premiered earlier this month (you can watch the trailer here), caused an explosion of controversy across the pond, with the Guardian declaring that Channel 4 has “hit a near impressive level of crass” and the Mirror saying that “the producers dress it up with a touchy-feely script safe in the knowledge the folks at home will laugh like drains.” One writer described the popular public opinion that it is a “thinly veiled Victorian freak-show.”
The vast majority of the criticism has come from non-disabled people, though, so I reached out to a few disability activists and writers for their take.
The problems start with the title, says Ouyang Dan, a writer at the blog Disabled Feminists. She tells me in an email, “I would almost, almost be more forgiving if the show’s title didn’t make me cringe so viscerally,” she says. “Are we to understand that the people we are seeing are somehow not deserving or even capable of finding companionship?” Sure, the show might challenge the stereotype, and its own title, by showing that disabled people can in fact date, but she says, “I can’t escape the niggling feeling that a general population of viewers won’t see it that way, but rather as something to laugh at.” Indeed, plenty of tweeters are LOLing about the awkwardness that arises on the show.
Some people with disabilities have actually come to the defense of the title, including Hadyn, a 24-year-old with facial deformities, who will be featured in an upcoming episode. In a video posted on YouTube, he argued that the name simply reflects the fact that “many people in society think disabled people are not dateable,” and he points out that the show’s opening credits show the “un” in “undateable” dropping off to read, “The dateables.”
Lisa Egan, a Brit who blogs about disability issues, says, “Most of the people who’ve claimed that the title is offensive are either non-disabled people or disabled people who are in long-term relationships; often relationships that were forged before acquiring their impairment.” She points to a Guardian survey finding that 70 percent of respondents would not consider having sex with a person with a disability. “The reality is that I am undateable,” she says, adding, “I am undateable because we live in a world where disablist prejudice is ubiquitous.”
That said, Egan does take issue with the actual content of the series. “My problem with the show is its obsession with ‘confidence,’” she says. One of the issues with “the confidence rubbish” is that “there’s an element of victim blaming going on,” she explains. “If you’re disabled and you can’t get a shag it must be because you’re just not confident enough. ‘It’s nothing to do with our prejudices, oh no. It’s you. You must try harder.’”
Anna Hamilton, another blogger from Disabled Feminists, was turned off by the way the show presents people with disabilities “for the (televised) amusement of non-disabled viewers.” That “tends to support a really tokenistic version of multiculturalism where the ultimate test of being an ‘acceptable’ disabled person rests on how much you can make non-disabled people relate to your life experience.”
Whether it’s the title or the actual substance of the show, Ari Ne’eman, co-founder of the Autistic Self Advocacy Network, says the most problematic aspect of the show is that it reinforces the stereotype that disabled people are loveless and sexless. That perception is “very damaging in very practical ways,” says Ne’eman, who has Asperger syndrome. For example, “it often means that disabled people tend do not have the same sex education curriculums that non-disabled people do,” which can make them “less aware of their reproductive rights and contraceptive options.”
It isn’t that disabilities can’t present unique challenges when it comes to the romantic arena, but Ne’eman says, “The existence of those challenges doesn’t mean that disabled people aren’t dating, aren’t having sex.” It also doesn’t mean that disabled people are the only ones who come to dating with personal hindrances and liabilities — because, hello. That’s part of why the show is so broadly relatable: First dates are awkward for everyone. The question is what else — aside from a few yuks and gratitude for being non-disabled — most viewers will bring home from the show.
I enjoy reading your columns and use them to some degree to allow myself some reassurance that my sexuality is not something to feel negative about. It is rare for me to see a woman who has complete comfort in her sexuality and makes it her purpose to explore. I spent a large portion of my younger years doing that and, now that I’m married and a father, I find it difficult to satisfy those desires in the way I used to.
There is part of me that wishes that I was not tied to the relationship I have so that I could continue exploring. It is not that my wife is not interested in joining me so much as it is that we are at different stages. I have a firm grasp on what I want coupled with a bit of fearlessness while she is still coming to know her wants and desires and is not entirely comfortable with where they sometimes lead. What I have been struggling with is: a) Will we ever be at the same place and b) What I am supposed to do in the meantime?
I want to be supportive and I get immense pleasure from guiding and giving someone an amazing sexual experience. My goal is to provide a safe environment so they can open up and ask any question or do any thing and not risk feeling ashamed or embarrassed about it. But that is often not enough. On the other hand, I want that to be reciprocated and if there is hesitation and anxiety about my, um, “needs,” then I lose the ability to enjoy it on the level I want to.
In my marriage, we have an ebb and flow in a pretty consistent fashion. Inside I begin to build up a large amount of sexual tension that is craving to be released in a manner that is not easily obtainable. I begin to push for something that will amount to that release and when it doesn’t happen it’s like sticking a cork in a volcano. I will spend a few days getting edgier and edgier until finally there is some blown-out-of-proportion conversation that ends up with everyone feeling inadequate and generally bad. We will then promise to work on it and things will go well for a few months until life gets in the way and the cycle starts again.
I want to break this cycle and we are currently doing an immense amount of work to try to bridge the gap. But until that happens, I’m still left with the need to reset my libido and I have few, if any, options available. I do not want to go outside of the marriage but if that is my only option I will.
Besides our sexual gap we have a fantastic relationship, but I am getting to the point where, after five years, I feel like I’m never going to achieve what I need. Any thoughts?
So this is funny: You’ve written such a smart, interesting and lengthy email, but I have no idea what you actually want. I see only amorphous sexual wanting. You don’t list a particular desire, like wanting to have more sex or to explore a specific kink. Instead, I’m left trying to read in between the lines in search of what’s missing from your sex life.
I wonder if your wife feels the same way. I wonder if you feel the same way.
There are a handful of words and phrases that stand out to me from your letter. The positive ones, the ones that seem to represent what you want, are “exploring,” “safe,” “open” and “do any thing.” The negative ones: “ashamed,” “embarrassed” and “anxiety.” You seem to believe that your wife is repressed — and that may very well be true, because, who isn’t? — but freedom from sexual shame can look very different on different people. For some, open exploration means joining a local swinger’s club; for others, it’s losing themselves in the pleasures of monogamous sex. There are as many personal definitions of sexual freedom as there are people. How does your wife’s definition compare to yours?
If you use the same abstract language when talking to her about what you feel is missing, it’s very possible that she is picturing a different goal than you are. Your strap-on fantasy might be her dream of bubble bath cuddles — or vice versa. There’s a tendency to expect our partners to know what we want, to intuit what we mean when we say, “Let’s explore” or “Let’s get kinky!” In part, that’s because the idea of our partner wanting exactly what we want is a compelling fantasy, right? But it’s also just damn hard to talk about these things. You gotta do it, though.
This is my personal take — and I’m just an unmarried, childless 28-year-old with a sex column. Marty Klein, a sex therapist and author of “Sexual Intelligence: What We Really Want From Sex, And How to Get It,” took a look at your email and determined that therapy — preferably with your partner — is the way to go. “Without that, or something like a near-death experience, this couple will split up (or he’ll have an affair),” Klein, who has over three decades of experience counseling couples, wrote in an email. The man tells it like it is.
I went to sex therapist Ian Kerner with the question of how one can tell the difference between a relationship that is hopelessly sexually mismatched and one that can become sexually compatible and satisfying with work. He said that there are two types of people: “thrill-seekers and comfort creatures.” This is a broad generalization, sure, but it can be useful to spark discussion around a tricky topic, he says. “Thrill seekers often crave a high degree of novelty and tend to get bored rather quickly, while comfort creatures believe that less is more and enjoy the familiarity of a sexual routine,” Kerner explains. “Part of the problem is that in the early stage of a relationship, the infatuation of falling in love provides a level of excitement that often masks real differences in our sexual types.”
Are these differences insurmountable? “Not at all,” he says. “But dealing with the issue is going to require creativity and communication.”
A new law in Washington state is being heralded this week as the latest successful strike in the war against child sex traffickers. What isn’t getting any coverage is what the law actually does and what it will mean in practice — as well as the question of how effective it will be in screening out child traffickers.
The New York Times described it as “a bill that would require sites within the state to obtain documentation that escorts advertised there are at least 18″ — but it’s a bit more complicated than that. (It’s almost always more complicated than stated when it comes to sex trafficking.) The law makes it a Class C felony for anyone to advertise “commercial sexual abuse of a minor if he or she knowingly publishes, disseminates, or displays, or causes directly or indirectly, to be published, disseminated, or displayed, any advertisement for a commercial sex act, which is to take place in the state of Washington and that includes the depiction of a minor.” That applies equally to pimps as it does to an online classified site like the controversial Backpage.com.
But the law does provide one defense: proof that “the defendant made a reasonable bona fide attempt” at verifying the age of “the minor depicted in the advertisement.” Two of the bill’s sponsors told me that this means in-person — as opposed to online — age verification via a government-issued ID. The law doesn’t require Backpage to institute age verification — it just says, Hey, if you want to cover your ass, do this.
The “this” isn’t so clearly defined, though: Backpage could institute in-person age verification for its adult section, but what if covert escort ads pop up in the personals? (That’s what happened when Craigslist closed its “erotic services” section.) Might Backpage then need to institute a real-world age check for all personal ads, too? State Sen. Jeanne Kohl-Welles, D-Seattle, the main sponsor of the law, told me in an email, “As the new law doesn’t specify escort services ads specifically, it would apply generally to … all online and print ads that pertain to commercial sexual abuse of a minor.” Remember, the law includes cases where someone “indirectly” allows such an ad to be published and includes “implicit,” as opposed to explicit, offers of sex.
Basically, it’s left up to prosecutorial discretion and the courts. Right now, Backpage is the most obvious target of the law, but it’s interesting to consider how the law might apply to other online venues where “any advertisement or offer [for sex] in electronic or print media” can be published. What about Craigslist (which may no longer have an erotic services section, but still hosts covert sex ads), Twitter or even Facebook?
As you might imagine, Backpage does not want to institute in-person checks because it’s antithetical to its business model. “The law relating to online commercial advertising is unfortunately practically unworkable in the Internet realm,” says Liz McDougall, general counsel for Village Voice Media. Backpage as a whole is as popular as it is precisely because of the ease of access. It’s also why it’s so popular with traffickers — that’s the double-edged sword of online classifieds.
Last August, Backpage claimed in a detailed letter to the Seattle mayor’s office that there are online age verification services that would be more accurate than an in-person ID check, but the bill’s sponsors disagree.
It isn’t hard to imagine in-person ID checks leading to the demise of Backpage’s adult section in Washington, and that is the ultimate hope of some of the bill’s supporters. Sen. Kohl-Welles says, “I would love to have the escort services section shut down completely as there [are] very likely individuals 18 and over who are lured, then trapped, too,” she says, but adds, “I doubt our new law will accomplish that.”
Seattle Mayor Mike McGinn anticipates that Backpage will argue that the law puts an undue burden on the site’s operations, but says, “On balance I tend to have a greater concern about the harm that’s being done to young children than I do about the burdens on Backpage to adequately prevent it.”
Beyond the question of what this will mean for Backpage’s business overall, there is the issue of whether the law will be effective in stopping traffickers. As any rebellious teenager knows, IDs are relatively easy to fake. What’s more, it seems possible for traffickers to do a bait and switch — use an adult’s ID for the check and then sell a minor. State Sen. Jerome Delvin, R-Olympia, a sponsor of the law, tells me, “Yeah, they may well try that. They’re pretty inventive to begin with in how they advertise this stuff.” The hope, he says, is to provide one more hurdle for them.
The law doesn’t make clear whether an ID has to be matched up to a photo accompanying the ad, if there is one, or whether the person in the ID has to be physically present for the verification. Kohl-Welles says, “We don’t get into that level of detail. That, again, would be up to the courts.”
And that’s where the problems could really begin. Village Voice Media’s McDougall says it’s “a law that draws public acclaim but no practical effect.” She also claims that the law “ignores its implication and potential contradiction of federal privacy laws and public privacy concerns” and that it “will inevitably be challenged and defeated for its unconstitutionality and the impossibility of its implementation.” The ACLU, however, reviewed the bill and determined that it could pass constitutional muster — although, contrary to other reports, the organization has not taken an official stance on the law.
Kohl-Welles says the law should pass constitutional muster because “we’re not determining what’s in the ad, per se, or that they can’t have an ad.” Although she says, “I suppose there could be a case made that, ‘Well, they’re chilling our free speech. They’re chilling our free speech with what we do with the freedom of the press.’”
The Washington law is just another example of how complex, imperfect and understandably desperate the fight against child sex trafficking can be. As Mayor McGinn says, “Nobody’s kidding ourselves that getting Backpage to change its practices will end trafficking.”
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