Seven months ago, I received my acceptance to Columbia University’s School of Journalism. I was absolutely stunned to be admitted, but even more shocked by the $116,000 price tag, for tuition and living expenses. The school, whose education is widely considered the golden standard in journalism, would provide me with unparalleled access, in an industry I currently felt immobile in.
Fortunately, the vast majority of the cost would be covered by scholarships. For the remaining rent and living costs, I looked for something else to plug the gap. I landed on a burgeoning industry offering struggling people vast amounts of cash, relatively fast: egg donation.
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The clinic was not just assessing my predisposition for genetic disorders, it was also weighing up other attributes: my blonde hair, my blue eyes and my fair skin. Over screening calls, team members would subtly compliment and affirm descriptions of my body, personality and ivy league education. Altogether, I had concerns this was sanitized eugenics. But through what other language did I expect them to build a relationship with me? They were paying me $10,000 for my eggs. The very nature of our business revolved around my body.
