Angela Thachuk

The word stigma comes from ancient Greece, and was initially used in reference to signs or symbols physically cut into or burned onto the bodies of those deemed to be of an inferior status. It was a marking of one's tarnished and flawed character. Today, stigma is more often attached to one's social standing, personality traits, or psychological makeup. "People are no longer physically branded; instead they are societally labeled—as poor, as criminal, homosexual, mentally ill, and so on. These labels influence public perceptions and behavior and lead to devaluation and denigration of those who are so labeled" (Wahl 1999, 11–12).The modern usage of the term stigma and contemporary focus on the concept as a topic of ..

This paper offers a critical analysis of the strategic use of biomedical models of mental illness as a means of challenging stigma. Likening mental illnesses to physical illnesses reinforces notions that persons with mental illnesses are of a fundamentally “different kind,” entrenches misperceptions that they are inherently more violent, and promotes overreliance on diagnostic labeling and pharmaceutical treatments. I conclude that too much has been invested in the claim that the body is somehow morally neutral, and that advocates of this approach oversimplify, misrepresent, and underestimate the personal and social costs of physical illness.

In North America, prenatal testing and genetic terminations are becoming clinically normalized. Yet despite this implied social acceptance, open discussions surrounding genetic terminations remain taboo and silenced. Women are socially isolated, their experiences kept secret, and their grief disenfranchised. The lack of social consensus regarding genetic terminations, the valorization of scientific knowledge, and the bioethical framing of the issue as a matter of personal choice and autonomy collectively serve to reify this silence. In many respects genetic screening offers a form of technological surveillance procuring security from the unwanted kind of child. Yet the manner in which ‘the unwanted kind of child’ is understood varies from context to context. While we carry with us the consequences of decisions made elsewhere, the institutionalized discourses upon which these decisions are made are not always so readily transportable. One must somehow reconcile ‘the unwanted kind of child’ of the biomedical model with ‘the unwanted kind of child’ who was to be a member of one's family. In this paper, my intention is not to engage in the broader debate surrounding prenatal testing and genetic terminations. Rather, I employ my clinical encounters with these practices to illustrate the absence of an ethical language that might do justice to the experiences such practices construct. The limitations of a bioethical discourse that remains abstracted from lived experience are discussed.