America and the Pill

The birth control pill made it possible, for the first time ever, to separate contraception from the act of sexual intercourse. Women could take the pill with or without the approval of their sexual partners—even without their knowledge. For women, this could be enormously liberating and empowering. Men also benefited from the pill. They no longer had to contend with the clumsy condom or the awkward withdrawal method. The pill offered men the additional advantage of more eager and responsive partners freed from the fear of pregnancy. Without devices, appliances, or interruptions, and assured that their sexual encounters would not result in pregnancy, couples could unleash their passions freely. Uninhibited sex was one of the pill’s most potent promises. But as the quotes above suggest, the pill might lead to sexual bliss, or it might do just the opposite. Not all men shared the profound sense of relief and freedom the pill offered women.

Along with preventing pregnancy, the pill challenged deeply entrenched sexual codes and attitudes. For men, the pill promised to relieve the worries of unplanned pregnancy: the burden of another mouth to feed, the anguish of a partner facing an illegal abortion, or the pressure of a shotgun wedding. Yet it could also undermine a sense of masculine potency grounded in procreative power. For women, the pill’s benefits were obvious: freedom from the fear of pregnancy, convenience, and total control over contraception. Women had the most to gain from the pill, and the most to lose without it.

Before the emergence of the second wave of feminism and the powerful movement for reproductive rights, women struggled to avoid the dangers of unwanted pregnancy. The stakes were highest for single women. The powerful punitive culture at mid-century came down especially hard on sexually active single women. Even if an unmarried woman avoided pregnancy, she risked a tarnished reputation. If she had the misfortune to become pregnant, she faced the dire options of rushed marriage, dangerous abortion, or the shame, ostracism, and burdens of unwed motherhood. Married women also felt cultural pressures in the midst of the celebration of domesticity and motherhood that reigned during the baby boom era. They tended to emphasize the pill’s promise of family planning and marital happiness, keeping the liberating potential of contraception under the radar.²

Meanwhile, it was men—especially those who considered themselves among the cultural avant-garde—who led the public charge for sexual liberation. They hoped to break down the barriers of prudery and restraint but with little regard for the reproductive consequences, and even less interest in women’s empowerment. Among the most visible and outspoken proponents of sexual freedom in the 1950s and early 1960s were the Beats, who publicly flaunted their defiance of all forms of sexual propriety, both heterosexual and homosexual. Although the Beats included some “chicks” in their circle, the culture of male bonding and adventure among them was notoriously sexist. The women, according to Beat memoirist Joyce Johnson, were minor characters.³ The Beat philosophy of sexual freedom did not necessarily include women’s right to use contraception, which would thwart men’s procreative powers. Beat poet Richard Brautigan expressed this sentiment in his poem “The Pill Versus The Springhill Mine Disaster”:

When you take your pill
it’s like a mine disaster.
I think of all the people
lost inside of you.

A LESS DISMAL VIEW OF THE PILL CAME FROM ANOTHER proponent of liberated manhood: Hugh Hefner, publisher of Playboy magazine. In the 1950s, Hefner created and promoted the ideal of the suave, urbane, unencumbered bachelor. He built his Playboy empire by offering men the trappings of the “good life” without its burdensome responsibilities. Hefner was an instant celebrity and his magazine became a source not only of soft porn for mainstream men but of wide-ranging discussion of controversial issues, including sex and birth control. The magazine reached an audience of a million readers a month and had a profound impact on popular visions of the good life. The Playboy ethic encouraged men to enjoy the sexual pleasures of attractive women without the chains of marriage, and to pursue the rewards of consumerism as single men in well-appointed “bachelor flats” rather than as husbands and fathers in appliance-laden suburban homes. Hefner’s magazine offered tips on how to achieve this lifestyle, along with centerfold airbrushed photographs of nearly nude young female “bunnies” who seemed to promise sex without commitment. Hefner’s “Playboy Philosophy” promoted sexual freedom primarily for men, with women depicted as eager and willing “playmates.”⁵

Playboy advocated an ideal of sexually free and sophisticated bachelorhood that did not reflect the reality of most men’s lives. But it did provide a fantasy that appealed to millions of male readers eager to imagine a respite from the burdens of breadwinning, parenting, and sexual monogamy.⁶ At the same time, Hefner considered himself a feminist, and promoted Playboy—the magazine as well as the lifestyle—as in the vanguard of the sexual revolution. A political liberal, he favored most policies promoted by mainstream feminists, and he was an early proponent of reproductive rights. In the magazine, he called for legalized abortion as early as 1965. The Playboy Foundation contributed thousands of dollars to support abortion rights, provided funds for child care centers for working mothers, supported the controversial research on human sexuality conducted by William Masters and Viginia Johnson, and donated to the American Civil Liberties Union for women’s rights. Playboy even had female readers. Helen Gurley Brown, author of the 1962 best seller Sex and the Single Girl, founded Cosmopolitan as a Playboy for women and praised Hefner for promoting the idea that “women really are . . . as interested in sex as men are, if not more so.”⁷

Hefner’s support of women’s rights, however, was limited. He scoffed at critics who claimed that Playboy’s centerfolds objectified women. For all of Hefner’s claims to support gender equality, his magazine was hardly the place to find it. Women’s bodies were certainly portrayed in a positive light, but women’s activity outside the bedroom was viewed with considerable suspicion. Between 1953 and 1963 Playboy featured three major articles by the noted misogynist Philip Wylie, who coined the term “Momism” during World War II to describe women who allegedly smothered their sons with misdirected and sublimated sexual energy, turning them into “sissies” and rendering them unfit for the masculine role of soldier. In 1962 Playboy examined this theme in a forum on the same topic, in which eight famous men offered their expertise on the matter.⁸

The panel of experts included eight white men and no women. Among them were noted writers, doctors, scholars, artists, and entertainers, nearly all of whom agreed that “womanization” was endangering America and eroding men’s rightful place at the helm. Only Dr. Ernest Dichter saw women’s equality as inevitable, promoted not only by career opportunities but also by contraception. He wrote, “Woman has become a partner in the biological sense, in the psychological sense, and also in the whole concept of family planning, professional activities. Womanization has taken place only to the extent that it has brought the modern woman up to par with the male—though there is still not 100 percent equality.” Dichter then asserted that as women gain more equality, “it’s going to be the male who will profit by it. He’s going to have a partner rather than a little doll that he has to take care of, which gives him a feeling of superiority, but in an illusory fashion.”⁹

In a rebuttal to Dichter, Playboy’s editors took Wylie’s side in the argument, as did the hipster comedian Mort Sahl, who chimed in, “The happiest chicks—the ones who are really ready for marriage, in a sense—are the ones who don’t try to run it and are junior partners. They have it all—by letting the guy do it all for them.” The Freudian psychoanalyst Dr. Theodor Reik got to the bottom of the issue: “What is astonishing to me is that women, more and more, are taking over the active roles in sex, which was not so before. The men finally will resent it. They should. It is, so to speak, in their masculine capacity.” In other words, with the exception of Dichter, who saw women’s emerging partnership with men as a positive development and who linked family planning to professional development, these male advocates of sexual freedom wanted to be sure that women’s sexuality would be liberated for men, but not for women themselves.¹⁰

In light of Hefner’s support for women’s reproductive rights, it is somewhat surprising that in its early years Playboy had little to say about contraception. From 1953 to 1959, in spite of the magazine’s focus on sexual pleasure and its centerfold photos, there was not one mention of birth control. In fact, there is no serious attention to the consequences of the sexual activity that the magazine so vigorously promoted. Gradually, the issues of fatherhood and unwed pregnancy crept into the pages of Playboy, but largely through humor. Three cartoons published in the early 1960s illustrate Playboy’s ideas about fatherhood. In one, a nurse tells a “hipster” man in a hospital waiting room, “You’re a daddy-o.” Another depicts a nurse holding a baby as the new father unbuttons the nurse’s uniform to reveal her ample breasts. The caption reads: “Just a moment, sir—you’re overly excited. . . . ” In a similar cartoon, a new father and his male buddy look through a nursery window at a nurse holding twins who appear as the woman’s breasts. The new dad exclaims, “Not bad for a shot in the dark, eh, Frisby?!”¹¹

The magazine’s editorial cartoons continued to trivialize and discourage fatherhood. One depicted a couple in a primitive tropical setting with thatched hut and palm trees, surrounded by six children, as the wife reads a card: “Oh, my God! We’ve been invited to another fertility rite!” Another suggested the horrors of parenthood as a couple sipping tea looks up dreamily at an image of a monstrous giant baby hovering over them, drooling and with bulging eyes, as if about to devour them.¹²

Unwed motherhood also provided fodder for the magazine’s ironic humor. Some cartoons depicted pregnant single women as brazen, such as the 1965 image of an expectant enlisted woman speaking to a military officer who has apparently just reminded her of the rules against sex with married military personnel: “Of course I know regulations, Larry—I’m not married.” Others suggest that single pregnancy continued to be shameful. In one cartoon, a young pregnant woman sits at the desk of a doctor, who says, “Now then, Miss Frimley, suppose you tell me a little more about this ‘friend of yours’ who is in a bit of trouble. . . .”¹³

One of the more sympathetic and serious of this genre appeared in 1965, depicting a young couple strolling arm in arm down a tree-lined street with houses behind picket fences. They both carry schoolbooks and the young man wears an athletic letter sweater, suggesting they are in high school. Both look glum. The young man says, “‘Too young to stay out late! . . . Too young to smoke or drink. . . . Too young to go steady! . . .’ Gee, they’re sure going to be surprised when they find out you’re not too young to be pregnant!” Finally, in 1966, Playboy takes on the pill and single women directly in a cartoon depicting Old Mother Hubbard living in a shoe, surrounded by a mob of children. A young lady, presumably one of Hubbard’s offspring, strolls off on the arm of a young man as her mother yells at her through the shoe window: “Did you remember to take your pill?”¹⁴

During the 1960s, Playboy became more political in its articles, taking on such topics as the cold war, the hydrogen bomb, and the civil rights movement. At this time, the magazine became an advocate for the pill as well as a major site for panel discussions and debates about sex and contraception aired in its articles and letters to the editor. In 1964, Hefner’s regular editorial feature addressed the topic of “religion in a free society” and examined all the major religions’ attitudes toward sexual morality. Hefner was particularly critical of the Catholic Church for its opposition to birth control, but he expressed optimism that the pill and the population explosion might revise the Church’s position. His article sparked a flurry of letters to the editor. One writer clarified the Church’s position by explaining the difference between various forms of birth control, articulating the circumstances in which the Church allows for contraception and even abortion (to save the woman’s life). In response, Playboy stated that non-Catholics are often “baffled” by the distinction between “the ‘naturalness’ of rhythm and the artificiality of oral contraception” but went on to say that the Church can make whatever distinctions it wishes, as long as it did not impose its will on others through laws limiting access to birth control.¹⁵

Playboy also began a sustained criticism of the Catholic Church for its specific opposition to the pill. Writers advocated both contraception and legalized abortion as necessary for solving the problem of worldwide overpopulation. One letter to the editor criticized the arrest of a speaker at Boston University who lectured on birth control and abortion. “Instead of being arrested, he deserves an award for public service.”¹⁶

Hefner himself promoted access to the pill for single women and urged that facilities such as university health services provide prescriptions. He criticized a Cleveland court for finding a woman guilty of contributing to the delinquency of a minor for giving her underage daughter information on birth control. Hefner noted that the teen had already given birth to three illegitimate children and declared that the judge’s verdict reflected “the severe and inhumane belief that the girl should be made to pay for her sin with pregnancy.” He argued that giving the pill “to the girls who request them is in the best interests of the girls themselves, and that this, after all, should be the deciding factor.”¹⁷

But Hefner’s insistence that the “deciding factor” should be what is in “the best interests of the girls themselves” may have been a bit disingenuous. Soon, Playboy began insisting that women take the pill regardless of side effects or reservations, claiming that those who resisted the pill were neurotic, prudish, hostile to men, or unwilling to take responsibility for contraception. (There was no similar insistence, however, that men should take responsibility for contraception.)¹⁸ In 1966 a woman wrote a letter to the editor complaining that Playboy considered the birth control pill “the panacea for the problem of unwanted pregnancies both inside and outside of marriage.” She pointed out the unknown risks of long-term use and the side effects that some women find “so bad that they cannot take the pills.” Playboy replied by suggesting that complaints of side effects were merely old wives’ tales: “It’s always a bit galling when a scientific discovery threatens a long-cherished religious or moral notion.”¹⁹

Some letters to the editor appeared to be written by the editors themselves, in order to provide an opportunity to respond. One allegedly female writer asked, “I am told that birth-control pills bring on many of the discomforts found in early pregnancy: sore and swollen breasts, excessive appetite and weight gain and sometimes even morning sickness. Does Playboy have anything to say about these disadvantages?” It is unlikely that an anonymous woman from Long Beach, New Jersey, would write to Playboy, of all magazines, for advice about contraception. In their response, the editors quoted a psychiatrist who claimed, “Women will tolerate side effects . . . if they enjoy sexuality, do not perceive their husbands as being excessively sexually demanding and feel generally responsible for managing family planning.”²⁰

WITH EXPERTS PROVIDING LEGITIMACY FOR THEIR claims, the editors of Playboy embraced the pill as a key to sexual liberation and pleasure, especially for men. Other experts, however, claimed that men were not necessarily liberated when their sexual partners took the pill. Indeed, some authorities warned that men might experience negative side effects. According to a psychoanalyst writing in Redbook, many men “see their virility in terms of what they can do to women. A man like that used to be able to give his wife babies—lots of them—whether she wanted them or not. But the pills take this last bit of masculinity away from him.”²¹

The noted psychotherapist Rollo May agreed: “Being able to get a woman pregnant is a much deeper proof of manhood than anything else our culture has to offer.” Because women take the pill, “Men are withdrawing from sex. . . . Impotence is increasing. Men feel like drone bees.”²² Psychiatrist Andrew Ferber added to this dismal view of contemporary manhood: “The male libido depends on culture. In our culture, the ability of the man to procreate is perhaps irrevocably tied to sex drive.” Sounding one note of optimism in this otherwise grim view, a male physician opined that it may be too late for today’s middle-aged men, but younger men might be more receptive, because they are “tuned into the population problems and are minus some of their parents’ sex hangups.”²³

Dr. Robert W. Kistner, the Harvard professor of obstetrics and gynecology quoted at the beginning of this chapter and a leading expert on the pill, wrote in Ladies Home Journal in 1969 that when the pill first became available, many expected husbands to rejoice because the pill would “liberate the act of love from the specter of pregnancy and release pent-up womanly passion. . . . These assumptions, unfortunately, may not be universally true.” Kistner warned his female readers that some husbands may experience “frustration, worry, fear and occasionally impotence” when their wives take the pill and become more sexually eager. He explained that for some men, sexual arousal results from competition and conquest of a reluctant wife. Some of his female patients “complained that their husbands would become sexually aroused when they undressed before them, only to lose their desire if the wives assumed the dominant role in the sex act or became the least bit animalistic.”²⁴

Other experts echoed this concern. One noted that the typical overworked husband comes home “mentally and physically spent—in no mood to satisfy his newly libidinous, pill-taking wife.” No longer the “virile attacker,” he becomes the “docile partner rendering mere service to his peer—or at least he feels that way.” Another described a woman who began taking the pill and “enjoyed her newfound sexual freedom almost to the point of nymphomania,” causing her formerly virile husband to become hostile, surly, impotent, and violent.²⁵

In a telling comparison, another doctor observed, “Woman power is just like black power, and it’s going to have a similar impact. Faced by the growing public effectiveness and independence of women, men have traditionally reacted as if their masculinity were under attack. . . . American men are beginning to show a preference for demure, passive women. Perhaps the golden day of the shy Southern belle is due for revival.” This physician suggested that black power threatened white privilege much as women’s power threatened male privilege. According to this logic, white men were at risk of losing their sexual as well as racial dominance—and the pill was part of the problem.²⁶

Sex educator Dr. Mary Calderone was not surprised by these responses, noting that the sexual effects of the pill could bring a woman “face to face with her own sexuality or that of her husband—a confrontation that often results in anxiety or panic on the part of the husband or wife.” Ultimately, these experts offered a predictable solution to the problem of the pill’s adverse effects on men: more experts. They suggested psychotherapy to help couples adjust to the impact of the pill on their sexual relationships.²⁷

As these experts and advocates demonstrate, the pill altered the sexual dynamics between women and men. More than simply providing effective and convenient contraception, the pill disrupted power relations between the sexes. Whether the pill was a boon for men or a bust, millions of women took it anyway, and their sexual partners managed, happily or unhappily. The pill clearly revolutionized contraception. Whether or not it revolutionized sex is another matter.