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Debra Carnahan is no ‘stand by your man’ woman |
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By Betsy Rothstein
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Posted: 06/12/07 06:45 PM [ET] |
Rep. Russ Carnahan (D-Mo.) and his wife, Debra, do not believe in having the traditional sex talk with their two teenage sons. Instead, they argue, it’s an ongoing conversation.
Debra, a municipal judge who sits on the national board of Planned Parenthood, got right to the point with the couple’s 17-year-old. One day she brought him a keychain with a condom on it. He laughed.
“I don’t think he uses it,” Debra says.
Like many parents, the Carnahans want their children to make smart decisions about sex and don’t want them having it too soon. Debra and Russ talk to them about contraception. Debra has them watch TV programs.
“I don’t ever want my sons to have an unwanted pregnancy,” she says. She adds dramatically: “I don’t want my sons to die.”
Unlike many parents, the Carnahans are not just ordinary parents trying to figure out how to talk to their children about sex.
They serve a higher, more complicated cause: international family planning. Russ’s post on the House Foreign Affairs Committee provides him an ideal perch to address those concerns, while Debra’s role on the Planned Parenthood board offers her a unique position as well.
The couple believes that more money ought to be devoted to funding family planning abroad. As a case in point, Debra explains, African women whose husbands frequent prostitutes need contraception to prevent diseases such as AIDS and syphilis. Rape is also widespread, making it all the more urgent that women be able to protect themselves.
One thing is clear: The Carnahans want to lift the “Global Gag Rule,” an executive order that limits access to contraceptives by banning the U.S. from providing all forms of assistance to aid groups that perform abortions. President Bush re-imposed the rule after taking office; President Clinton had rescinded it.
Last month, Russ introduced the Ensuring Access to Contraceptives Act of 2007. The legislation allows the United States to provide contraceptives in developing countries and doubles the funding that USAID can spend on contraceptives, from $75 million to $150 million annually.
“It’s an issue that I’ve been involved in and Debra’s been involved in for many years,” says Russ, sitting next to his wife on a long black leather sofa in his Longworth office. “One of the frustrations for me is there’s so much common ground [in Congress] that is being missed. Everybody ought to agree on more education.
“AIDS in Africa is continuing to climb,” he adds. “We have to do more.”
The photographer snaps pictures of the Carnahans from all angles. “You want us to sit closer?” asks Debra, sticking her tongue out in mock disgust. “We normally do.”
If the congressman’s explanation of why he believes in international family planning is mostly cerebral and policy-driven, his wife’s reasoning is more personal.
“I’m a child of the ’70s — the late ’70s,” she says with a laugh. Growing more serious, she explains that it was “a real, incredibly powerful time for women about taking control of your life, entering sports, entering the workplace, the ability to chart your own path.” At the same time, she adds, family planning is important for men’s freedom as well.
In 1982, while both were students at the University of Missouri, Debra and Russ met at a Young Democrat Convention in Kansas City. Russ was in law school at the time; he was president of the Missouri Young Democrats. She was a member of the college chapter. The event was a fundraiser for Alan Wheat, a Democratic congressional hopeful who won and served in Congress from 1983 to 1995. At a house party afterward, Debra, ever the bold one, walked up to Russ’s best friend and asked him to dance. Russ cut in, and the pair have been together ever since.
After college, Debra went on to law school. The couple practiced law together at a firm in Rolla, Mo., Russ’s hometown. At that time, she got involved with the local Planned Parenthood, followed by a post on the statewide board.
They claim that the Carnahans are no political dynasty like the Kennedys or the Rockefellers. But they do boast a long tradition. Russ’s mother, Jean, was a U.S. senator who lost her seat five years ago to Jim Talent (R-Mo.); Russ’s father, Mel, occupied the seat before he died in 2000. Russ Carnahan’s grandfather, A.S.J. Carnahan, served in Congress in the 1940s and 1950s. He was also a former ambassador to Sierra Leone — the first-ever ambassador to Sierra Leone, appointed by President John F. Kennedy. There was also Russ’s ancestor Manassa Cutler, who was a member of Congress from Massachusetts and a prominent member of the Federalist Party.
Politics seeped into Russ’s being at a young age. When he was 8, he watched his father serve in the Missouri state legislature. When he graduated from college, he was the driver in his father’s first statewide race.
“I guess I’m standing on their shoulders and inspirations in many ways,” says Russ. “Part of it is being raised to find a way to make a difference. It’s not important how you do it, but that you do it.”
Debra and Russ have a relationship that is both intensely personal and political. In fact, the couple got engaged within nine months of meeting each other. “Did I ever think he’d run for political office?” Debra asks. “Possibly.”
Congressional life has its ups and downs, and Debra is the first to admit it. Among her chief complaints are the high-powered people they meet who consider her an afterthought, the wife standing meekly by her husband’s side.
“You’ll meet people, heads of state [who say], ‘Oh hi, how are you, you’re the wife,’” says Debra, who served as a district attorney and an assistant U.S. attorney under the Clinton administration. “There’s a sexism there. Sometimes [I’m] dismissed as the tagalong. That does change when people find out I’m a lawyer and a judge.”
How does she handle it? “I push right through it,” she says. “If they are complete jerks, I walk away. The rest of the time I stand there, I start to participate in the conversation. It’s not about proving something. It’s about being who you are and being part of the process and being involved.”
Debra is no wallflower of a congressional wife. Her husband’s scheduler informs her of meetings relevant to her. “I’m to be kept up on all those things,” she says.
The couple has homes in Alexandria, Va., and St. Louis, as well as a paid-off timeshare in Key West, Fla., that they bought early on when funds were scarce. They use it once a year if they’re lucky. “Our lives are not simple at all,” she says, referring to their complicated schedule of travel and events.
In many instances, when Russ cannot make an appearance, it’s Debra who fills in for him. “She knows better than anyone what I think and feel,” he says.
Debra adores Russ personally and looks up to him politically. But it’s abundantly clear that she is what then-first lady Hillary Clinton once famously declared in a “60 Minutes” interview — not a “stand by your man” kind of woman.
“I’m glad that I’m a judge,” she says, noting that she was the first judge ever to put a landlord in jail. “I’m glad I still have some of my own life.”
It’s also clear she sees the value of congressional life and her role in what her husband does. “I have met very few spouses who have not been intimately involved in supporting their partner in where they have gotten to be.”
Nonetheless, she gives credit where it is due: “Unless they are people like Russ who come to Congress and try to build coalitions to get rid of [the] gag rule, what I do is going to be very, very limited.”
Though she has her own life and career, she doesn’t minimize her husband’s power in Congress. In fact, she sees his vote as a joint venture. “The importance of what he’s doing is we’re trying to make choices available,” she says. “We’re not talking teenagers. We’re talking about women protecting themselves from dying.”
But perhaps the conversation does begin at home.
Two years ago, the Carnahan’s older son, then 15, began getting serious with a young woman. Instead of panicking, Debra sat him down and explained how emotionally painful sex can be and that he wasn’t ready.
“Mom,” he said in response, “I’m not having sex.”
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