Mississippi State Senator Bradford Blackmon has put himself at the center of a national conversation, and not for the reasons we might hope. On January 20, 2025, Blackmon introduced the provocatively titled “Contraception Begins at Erection Act.” The bill would criminalize a man’s discharge of “genetic materials” without the intent to fertilize an embryo. According to the senator, the proposal was never meant to become law but to spark dialogue about the ways men legislate women’s bodies.
Let’s start with the obvious: it worked. Blackmon’s bill grabbed headlines, dominated social media, and forced a lot of people to confront uncomfortable points made about gendered hypocrisy in lawmaking. Bravo, Senator, for getting attention. But let’s not pretend this is the most responsible or constructive way to use your office—or your mother’s, for that matter.
Yes, you read that right. The seat Senator Blackmon now occupies once belonged to his mother. In fact, his family holds an outsized presence in Mississippi politics, with both his father and brother serving in the State House of Representatives. Who better to champion such a provocative bill than someone who might feel insulated from the fallout?
To be fair, the senator’s frustration is understandable. For years, state legislatures across the country have pushed restrictive laws targeting women’s bodies, from abortion to contraception. His bill flips the script, forcing us to ask why men’s reproductive choices are almost never the subject of regulation. On paper, it’s a sharp critique. In practice, it’s a punchline.
When I first heard about the “Contraception Begins at Erection Act,” I laughed—and I suspect most people did too. That’s a problem. If we reduce legislative debate to satire, we undermine the seriousness of the issues at hand. We also risk reinforcing the very norms Blackmon claims to challenge. By crafting a bill so absurd that it’s laughable, he invites mockery rather than meaningful reflection.
The deeper issue here is the misuse of power. Legislators are entrusted with addressing real challenges—education, infrastructure, public safety, and yes, healthcare. Is this bill really the best use of the public’s time and resources? Blackmon’s stunt suggests he thinks his platform is a soapbox for personal statements rather than a tool for governance. His constituents deserve more.
To those who applaud Blackmon’s creativity, I understand the appeal. It’s refreshing to see a male legislator confront the gendered double standards baked into our laws. But why stop at stunts? If he truly wants to champion reproductive justice, he could work to repeal restrictive laws or advocate for comprehensive sex education and accessible contraception. Leadership means doing the hard, often unglamorous work of building coalitions and passing legislation that improves people’s lives—not just making headlines.
Senator Blackmon succeeded in sparking a conversation. But attention alone doesn’t solve problems; it doesn’t build consensus, pass laws, or improve lives. Mississippi—and the nation—deserve lawmakers who don’t just start conversations but follow through with action.
Timothy Holdiness, publisher and editor of The Newton County Appeal. Reach him at holdiness@newtoncountyappeal.com.
