This is both surprising and not-at-all surprising. On one hand, birth control access is one of the most all-encompassing of health care issues. The numbers tell the story: 62 million American women are in their childbearing years, according to a June 2010 Guttmacher Institute report. About half of all pregnancies in the U.S. are unintended — clearly, involving people across all political lines. By age 45, half of all American women will have experienced an unintended pregnancy and one-third will have had an abortion. Of the 43 million of sexually active and fertile women who do not want to become pregnant, 89 percent use contraception.

And how are they paying for it? While federal employees are guaranteed contraception coverage, only 27 states require employer-based insurance to cover the same. Meanwhile, 17.4 million people needed publicly funded services and supplies in 2008 because they either had an income below 250 percent of the federal poverty level, or they were younger than 20 years old. Use of publicly funded contraception increased by 6 percent since 2000. It is worth noting, by the way, that paying for birth control is far cheaper for insurers and public programs than paying for pregnancies or childbirth.

So when it comes to birth control as a preventive service, the need is consistent and sweeping. Given the rate of unintended pregnancies, existing insurance and public programs simply aren’t reaching all the people that need them. Affirming free access to a range of birth control options under the health reform law is an obvious and significant strategy to change this.

So what’s with the delay? Here’s the not-so-surprising part: birth control makes people think of sex. And given the unhealthy relationship public society has with sex — shifting uneasily between obsessed and appalled, judgmental and unknowing — there’s a knee-jerk reaction to publicly funded contraception as somehow a federal endorsement of — ironically — irresponsible sex. It’s the same illogic behind sex education programs that are mandated to be abstinence-only, as if any kind of education on what birth control is will incite kids to have sex (never mind the dangers of teens having sex without birth control). Indeed, despite the high numbers of people who use contraception, The Daily Beast’s Dana Goldstein numbers the organizations that are balking at the idea of publicly funding it.

Planned Parenthood Federation of America isn’t letting the conversation on contraception end here: it and other reproductive rights organizations are lobbying for contraception to be included in a separate set of guidelines on women’s health services. The Department of Health and Human Services is expected to spend the next 6-18 months considering whether insurance plans (both private and public) will be required to make contraception available with no co-pay. It must be emphasized, though, that birth control isn’t just a “women’s issue”; had contraception been on this initial list of preventive services, the government could have affirmed that message. Nonetheless, this issue of access is too important to quibble over semantics. Better to spend the energy supporting the campaign on basic contraception as a basic health care right.

Hardly limited to Canada’s border, honor killings have also made their way into the United States. Marie Claire recently published an extensive feature on the practice, numbering the women that have been murdered for ostensibly shaming their families in just the last few years. There were the two teen sisters in Texas shot by their father, apparently because they had boyfriends. A 19-year-old in Illinois killed by her husband after an argument about her Western-style clothing. A 20-year-old in Phoenix who was run over by her father in a parking lot while walking with her boyfriend’s mother. A 25-year-old woman in Georgia strangled by her father for wanting out of an arranged marriage. And a 37-year-old in Buffalo, New York beheaded by her husband for wanting a divorce. Typically chalked up to “standard” domestic violence or to cultural relativity, there has been little attention on these crimes as emerging from a unique practice, which, according to the Canadian report, is the key to effectively addressing them. These killings carry patterns that are unique from Western-style domestic violence — such as the approval of the surrounding culture and families.

Marie Claire and Human Rights Watch are partnering on a campaign to Congress to support the Family Violence Prevention and Service Act, which historically provided life-saving shelter for people threatened by family members — but the measure expired in 2008. The campaign asks Congress to reauthorize and fully fund the act, which was first enacted in 1984 and was supported by six votes to continue the services before abruptly falling flat two years ago.

Reauthorization needs to happen. But the U.S. would do well to also follow Canada’s model of particularizing honor killings as a crime. Currently, the federal Office on Violence Against Women has no unique listing for honor killings, nor do honor killings seem to be embedded in other listings. (A search on the site for “honor killings” produces zero results.) A Spring 2009 issue of Middle East Quarterly points out that the U.S. is also lagging behind Europe in responding to honor killings for what they are; that lack of acknowledgment means that the U.S. doesn’t have the special programs or training that could save the lives of girls and women who are under threat. While even the United Nations General Assembly was finally persuaded in 2005 to look at the specifics of honor killings, and while cases of honor killings within our borders are apparent, the U.S. has not followed suit. This is insensible, especially when international models already exist for how to integrate attention to honor killings with a broad strategy for eliminating violence against women and girls. Like Canada, it’s time to step up. After all, it’s not just our honor that’s at stake.

”We are delighted that Caster is finally being permitted to compete with other women, as is her legal and natural right,” her lawyer, Jeffrey Kessler, told the AP. “Hopefully, this resolution will set a precedent so that no female athlete in the future will have to experience the long delays and public scrutiny which Caster has been forced to endure.” Indeed, although that seems awfully idealistic. Semenya’s ordeal revealed a deeply ingrained discomfort with women who don’t have a traditionally feminine appearance. Women’s sports tends only to get the spotlight when it features “controversy,” rather than merely extraordinary ability, skill, excitement, and accomplishment.

It isn’t just plain old controversy, either. There was minimal coverage of WNBA star Diana Taurasi’s DUI awhile back, for example. The kind of controversy that carves out space for women in sports tends toward athletes who challenge gendered expectations. Consider Serena Williams losing her temper on the court; Baylor University basketball superstar Brittany Griner punching an opponent; the University of New Mexico’s Elizabeth Lambert bullying other soccer players on the field. These, along with Semenya’s story, were the headlines that got the most press in women’s sports over the last year. More than the (thrilling) WNBA championships. More than Lindsey Vonn’s skiing at the Winter Olympics. Without excusing the deplorable behavior of Griner and Lambert in particular, it’s notable that all the top stories feature female athletes exhibiting non-traditional characteristics in the public sphere. In the cases of the first three, anger, aggression, and competitiveness. For Semenya, it was mostly her strong body.

It is wonderful news that Semenya is free to compete again in a sport she clearly loves, with the full support of the IAAF. But it’s tragic that she was forced to endure global scrutiny, to say nothing of being sidelined from a year’s worth of racing while in the prime of her career. Even as she gets back to the starting block, she still faces an unsettling reality: It took cruel speculation about Semenya’s “true” gender for her to become world-famous; her profound skill wasn’t enough.

IVF is a famously expensive fertility treatment, costing tens of thousands of dollars for each cycle. The NHS, meanwhile, is facing devastating funding cuts that affect thousands of jobs and patient services. The uncomfortable relationship here is not lost on the Brits. Columnist Melanie Phillips of the Daily Mail has gone so far as to holler that “IVF for older women on the NHS is another example of how the mania for equality is wrecking society.” More temperately, Christine Odone of the Telegraph distinguishes between “life-saving and life-enhancing” health treatments, arguing that the change in IVF policy would equate not having children with a cancer diagnosis. She puts the blame for these misplaced priorities on “our urge to control, our sense of entitlement, and a very greedy IVF industry.” And Josephine Quintavalle, of Comment on Reproductive Ethics, said that “The optimum age for a woman to have a child is around 24, so we should do more to encourage that. Instead we are talking about finding money — from where? — to give free IVF cycles to women over the age of 40.”

And yet, others contend that gauging coverage for IVF by ovarian reserve rather than age is a clear way to even out an arbitrary standard of care. The medical director of the Glasgow Centre for Reproductive Medicine, which hosts the world’s largest database of ovarian reserve records, reportedly argues that it’s time for institutional policy to catch up with science and research. Dr. Allan Pacey, a fertility expert from Sheffield University, is quoted in news accounts as saying that “I think it’s logical to move away from age guidelines to those based on ovarian reserve. It is very unfair at the moment.”

It’s a conversation that is hard to imagine ever having in the United States. Stateside, IVF treatments will probably never be subsidized for anyone; this is a country that hasn’t even agreed that primary care checkups are a basic right and in the national interest. It is notable, though, that the age Americans are having their first child is edging upward: About 20 percent of U.S. women now have their first child after age 35, even though about one-third of couples in which the woman is older than 35 have at least some struggle with fertility, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Age is a primary factor in fertility challenges for men as well. According to the CDC, between 3.3 and 4.7 million men sought help with having a child at some point in their lives.

But regardless of whether anyone will ever receive a free cycle or two of IVF in the United States, it’s worth recognizing that Britain’s policies are being debated under the assumption of the Equality Act — legislation designed to codify fair access to public and privates services, as well as employment, regardless of gender, race, ability, sexual orientation, beliefs or age. As family planning evolves for people of all ages in the U.S., the principle of equal access to healthcare is one worth getting acquainted with.

And speaking of those numbers, Quinnipiac has been hardly upfront with them; in fact, it’s been downright manipulative. In a guise of equity, the school has over-reported opportunities for female athletes, and under-reported opportunities for men, according to the Associated Press. Quinnipiac had the unfortunate habit of dropping players from the men’s baseball and lacrosse team just before it filed data with the U.S. Department of Education, and then immediately reinstating them. The school also added players to the women’s softball team just in time for the federal reports — while not acknowledging players that would be off the team when the spring season opened.

Today’s case, which is before Judge Stefan Underhill of the U.S. District Court in Bridgeport, has especially high stakes: it became a class action last month for “all present, prospective, and future female students who are harmed by and want to end [Quinnipiac University's] sex discrimination,” according to trial documents. This is an important point: class action ensures that any wins by the volleyball team who filed the suit won’t disintegrate when they leave campus. And as other schools flounder in their ability to manage diminishing budgets with equal opportunities, the results of the case will likely guide decisions that are happening on campuses across the nation.

And what of the cheerleaders? While physical effort and ability are a given for many of the high-level gymnasts who cheer, Title IX has specific criteria for what counts as a sport when it comes to equity in athletics: a program must have a defined season, a governing organization, and feature competition as its primary goal. Competitive cheer is not recognized by the National Collegiate Athletics Association (NCAA) as a sport. Nor does it have a governing body: two versions of organizations that have filled the role have been associated with Varsity Brands, Inc., a for-profit company that sells cheerleading gear and hosts up to 60 “national championships” a year. To amplify its case that competitive cheer can indeed count as a varsity sport, Quinnipiac has joined with seven other schools to form the National Competitive Stunts and Tumbling Association, which is intended to be a new governing body for the sport. Four more schools need to sign on for it to be recognized as a legitimate governing body, and the sport itself to be seen as “emerging.”

Despite being forced to host a women’s volleyball team this year after all and not cut any other women’s teams (thanks to a temporary injunction from Judge Underhill), Quinnipiac went ahead with its plans to form a varsity cheer team. It did, however, hastily cut its men’s golf, outdoor track, and indoor track. The move is a sad one that feeds the idea that it’s a zero-sum game in athletics — if women’s sports win, then men’s sports lose. Given that Title IX is well-established law, it is a tired point. Calling for excellent and numerous opportunities for women to play sports is not the same thing as calling for the dismantling of men’s programs; the Title IX vision is for these programs to co-exist, even compliment one another.

Now, it’s possible that competitive cheer could be a legitimate sport. I’m open to the point. But what a sorry birth it would be for varsity cheerleading if it were to come out of a swamp of data manipulation and lawsuits that pit sports against one another, making a mockery of any claimed commitment to the participation of women in athletics. In this case, I’m cheering for the volleyball team.