CON(TRA)CEPTS OF CARE: SOUTHERN ALBERTA BIRTH CONTROL CENTRES & REPRODUCTIVE HEALTHCARE, 1969-1979 A Thesis Submitted to the College of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements For the Degree of Doctorate of Philosophy In the Department of History University of Saskatchewan Saskatoon, Saskatchewan By KARISSA ROBYN PATTON © Copyright Karissa Robyn Patton, February 2021. All rights reserved. Unless otherwise noted, copyright of the material in this thesis belongs to the author. PERMISSION TO USE In presenting this dissertation in partial fulfillment of the requirements for a Postgraduate degree from the University of Saskatchewan, I agree that the Libraries of this University may make it freely available for inspection. I further agree that permission for copying of this dissertation in any manner, in whole or in part, for scholarly purposes may be granted by the professor or professors who supervised my dissertation work or, in their absence, by the Head of the Department or the Dean of the College in which my thesis work was done. It is understood that any copying or publication or use of this dissertation or parts thereof for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. It is also understood that due recognition shall be given to me and to the University of Saskatchewan in any scholarly use which may be made of any material in my dissertation. Requests for permission to copy or to make other uses of materials in this thesis/dissertation in whole or part should be addressed to: Head of the History Department 5A5, 9 Campus Dr #619 University of Saskatchewan Saskatoon, Saskatchewan S7N 4L3 Canada OR The Dean of College of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies University of Saskatchewan 116 Thorvaldson Building, 110 Science Place Saskatoon, Saskatchewan S7N 5C9 Canada i ABSTRACT In 1969, as the government of Alberta rolled out their provincial healthcare policy the Canadian government decriminalized contraception and abortions approved by Therapeutic Abortion Committees. The unfortunate timing of both major legislative events meant that provincial birth control, abortion, and other reproductive and sexual health services remained in bureaucratic limbo for almost a decade until officially integrated into Alberta Healthcare Services between 1978 and 1979. Following decriminalization, activists and some medical professionals in southern Alberta established birth control centres using alternative reproductive health models and education plans to fill the voids in the new healthcare bureaucracy. These birth control centres, the Calgary Birth Control Association (CBCA) and the Lethbridge Birth Control and Information Centre (LBCIC), became hubs of reproductive and sexual health services, education, and expertise in 1970s Alberta, bringing an activist agenda to health services in this arena. This study considers how activists like the women who established, ran, and visited the birth control centres, in southern Alberta spearheaded changes in reproductive health services that combined elements of feminism with principles of Medicare. By applying a reproductive justice framework, this dissertation examines the disparities in access to health and educational services based on race, age, and place and explores the activist legacies in so-called conservative regions. Building on foundational scholarship on the history of birth control, reproductive rights, reproductive justice, and women’s health activism, this dissertation argues that between 1969 and 1979 women’s activism within and related to these local birth control centres significantly shaped local and regional discourses of health, reproduction, and feminist politics. In doing so, I recognized the groundwork set by the activists at the LBCIC and CBCA created space for Alberta to become an unexpected leader in providing reproductive healthcare services in 1970s western Canada. ii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS One winter evening in 2012, I called my Grandma. I had just watched PBS’s The Pill that day in Carol Williams’ History of Women class, so I was eager to talk to my grandmother about her memories of the creation of the pill and the decriminalization of contraception in Canada. To my disappointment, my Grandma did not remember either of these historical events. When the Canadian government passed Omnibus Bill C-150 in May 1969, my grandma had a four-year-old daughter (my Mom) and was pregnant with her second child (my Uncle Robin). Grandma must have utilized newly legal contraception post-1969, but as a young working mother of two her memories about the 1960s and 1970s did not include legislation. Rather the memories she shared with me focused on her lack of sex education or accessible birth control information, and that her Church’s marriage course taught her to be subservient to her husband (a lesson she resisted daily). More often than not, she told me that these topics were not supposed to be discussed, especially in public. On the rare occasion when she did open up, she stubbornly provided as little detail as possible. She told me very little about her sex education outside of what was included in her rural grade eight classes in Lang, Saskatchewan. Yet, I found books like Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex (1969) stashed away in her belongings – proof she engaged with at least parts of the movement for women’s sexual liberation. She was insistent that my mother learned about sex, puberty, and reproduction – an opportunity she did not have as a teen. So, one day in 1975, they went to the library and took out as many books on the topic that they could find. Even though she did not always want to talk about these topics explicitly, she was adamant that her daughter and grand-daughters deserved better sex and birth control education. Her story shares many themes with this dissertation. She told me about the shame and stigma around premarital sex, contraceptive use, and abortion when she was growing up. She told me about how she hated the idea that women were supposed to be submissive, but she did not identify as a feminist. She told me about the limits of urban family planning programs for teenagers in small town Saskatchewan. And as someone who had received very little sex education herself, she told me about the significance of self-education literature when she wanted to teach my mom about bodies and reproduction. I’m sure there is more overlap, but there are parts of my grandmother’s story that she rarely, if ever, shared with anyone. I do not even dare share parts of her story here because she would be furious with me. I might have been the only one who ever heard parts of her history simply because I was always talking about the historical themes and moments that she experienced or witnessed in her own life – the same things she was taught not to discuss. I pushed that particular envelope on more than one occasion, and on more than one occasion, she pushed it back. However, I am more than grateful for those moments when she did share her stories with me. My Grandma passed away unexpectedly in the middle of my PhD program, as I began writing this dissertation. Many of her stories, that she so desperately kept secret, were lost with her passing. The stories she did share with me inspired my interest in the history of reproductive health and sex education in the Canadian Prairies. This dissertation and my scholarship overall would not be the same without her. ~ Many others helped make this dissertation a reality. I could not have asked for a better supervisory committee. The mentorship offered by this committee has meant the world to me. iii Thank you to my stellar committee members Valerie Korinek and Katie Labelle – your guidance and feedback throughout this process have been invaluable. To my cognate, Angela Baerwald, thank you for your support and advice throughout this project. Many thanks for the thoughtful insight from my external committee member, Nancy Janovicek. And to my supervisor and mentor Erika Dyck, words cannot express how happy I am that you were my guide throughout this endeavour. Over the past five years, we have worked together, written together, traveled together, and, now, experienced a global pandemic together. And throughout that time, you have coached me through my writing, encouraged me to think deeply and carefully about my analysis, and you have supported me through all of my projects. I know as I leave this dissertation behind and move forward that I will continue to have a mentor and friend in you. Thank you. I am especially grateful to my supervisor and committee for their patience and kindness during the last months of my PhD program in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Other graduate students have not been so lucky, and I appreciate your allyship & understanding. To my family, thank you for always supporting me – even when you have no idea what exactly I’m doing. Todd, your unwavering support throughout my academic career has meant more than you know. I especially appreciate your positive attitude and encouragement – even when you know I’ve taken on too many projects… again. To my parents, thank you for always telling me I could do anything I put my mind to – even when I was a terrible teen who told you I never wanted to go to university. And thank you both for instilling in me two very different but equally intense work ethics. Thanks to you two, I always had the basic skills and determination to make it through a project of such a large scope. To my sisters, Breanna and Kaitlyn, thank you for listening – and now contributing – to my feminist rants. You two are my inspiration. Thank you, Kaitlyn for the last-minute trips to the Glenbow Archives to photograph sources for me.