The Chile I live in is a country of contradictions. This is as true when you talk about sex and religion as when you talk about Pinochet. Factually, on paper, Chile is one of the world’s most sexually conservative countries. A throwback to the past, where getting an abortion is a crime, even if you were raped or your health is in danger; where women hospitalized after botched abortions are turned in to authorities; and where Opus Dei is a potent political force.
Yet in the city - at least the middle class, more urban parts - the picture that emerges in daily interactions is at odds with that paper portrait. When I say "the city," remember: One-third of the country's population lives in Santiago. That's not even mentioning the other cities, which may have similar social profiles.
In the city, the young women I meet talk about sex openly and comfortably, get and even sometimes talk about abortions, and never go to church. Actually, nobody I meet goes to church, as far as I can tell, except a couple of evangelical Christians - not exactly the Catholicism I'd expect from the statistics, which list 89 percent of Chileans as Catholics.
A common question gives away the historical predominance of the Vatican's religion: "Are you Catholic?" replaces "Are you religious?" in my experience of Chile. But the answer - generally, "no" or not practicing - seems to confirm what I read in a book by a visitor to the country: that Catholicism never put down such very deep roots in this country. A surprising number of people tell me they are atheists. I'm not sure I've met more than one person in the U.S. who claims atheism. More are "agnostic."
Still, abortion is absolutely against the law and, as far as I can tell, somewhat mildly against the public morals. It isn't "wrong" but it is "killing someone," to paraphrase one girl I spoke to.
Take the Chilean Institute of Reproductive Medicine, which works to inform young people about safer sex practices and, in its clinic, helps young women with botched illegal abortions, yet must carefully watch what it says about abortion.
Will anything change with a woman president? There have been rumbles in that direction, including the free access to emergency contraception without parental notification at state-run hospitals, and calls for decriminalizing some abortions. The Chile I know seems ready for such a step. But from what I'm told, much of the opposition is not rooted in popular opinion, but in a powerful minority lobby. In that case, change would require more than a vague willingness on the part of much of the population, but an organized political effort that can draw large numbers of supporters. I wouldn't hold my breath to see that just yet.
Yet in the city - at least the middle class, more urban parts - the picture that emerges in daily interactions is at odds with that paper portrait. When I say "the city," remember: One-third of the country's population lives in Santiago. That's not even mentioning the other cities, which may have similar social profiles.
In the city, the young women I meet talk about sex openly and comfortably, get and even sometimes talk about abortions, and never go to church. Actually, nobody I meet goes to church, as far as I can tell, except a couple of evangelical Christians - not exactly the Catholicism I'd expect from the statistics, which list 89 percent of Chileans as Catholics.
A common question gives away the historical predominance of the Vatican's religion: "Are you Catholic?" replaces "Are you religious?" in my experience of Chile. But the answer - generally, "no" or not practicing - seems to confirm what I read in a book by a visitor to the country: that Catholicism never put down such very deep roots in this country. A surprising number of people tell me they are atheists. I'm not sure I've met more than one person in the U.S. who claims atheism. More are "agnostic."
Still, abortion is absolutely against the law and, as far as I can tell, somewhat mildly against the public morals. It isn't "wrong" but it is "killing someone," to paraphrase one girl I spoke to.
Take the Chilean Institute of Reproductive Medicine, which works to inform young people about safer sex practices and, in its clinic, helps young women with botched illegal abortions, yet must carefully watch what it says about abortion.
Will anything change with a woman president? There have been rumbles in that direction, including the free access to emergency contraception without parental notification at state-run hospitals, and calls for decriminalizing some abortions. The Chile I know seems ready for such a step. But from what I'm told, much of the opposition is not rooted in popular opinion, but in a powerful minority lobby. In that case, change would require more than a vague willingness on the part of much of the population, but an organized political effort that can draw large numbers of supporters. I wouldn't hold my breath to see that just yet.
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