Support Black maternal health.
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Happy Thursday!
I have to say, the challenges I know Black women face through the pregnancy process has discouraged me from having kids of my own. I'm incredibly grateful that this work is happening in Congress. Today's newsletter only scratches the surface of the racism people of color experience related to maternal health, and as I wrote this email it morphed into three more! But I do know that if we improve Black maternal health, we'll make maternal health more accessible for everyone.
We will keep reporting on racism until it doesn't exist anymore. And we'd love your support to make that happen. Consider giving one-time on our website, (or Venmo @nicoleacardoza), or pledge $5/month on our Patreon to keep this work growing. Many thanks to all that have supported so far!
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Sign the letter to show your support for the reproductive justice movement.
Share the resources from the Birth Justice Toolkit to raise awareness about the importance of reproductive justice.
Contact your senator and urge them to support the Black Maternal Health Momnibus using the letter found here.
GET EDUCATED
Amid the racial reckoning of 2020, leaders and allies in the reproductive justice movement are calling for action. Congresswomen Alma Adams and Lauren Underwood launched the Black Maternal Health Caucus in April 2019, which has blossomed into a comprehensive initiative for Black maternal health rights. This includes the Black Maternal Health Momnibus, a compilation of nine bills that aim to address the disparities in access and treatment for Black people. This work calls for “reproductive justice,” a term created by a group of Black women (the Women of African Descent for Reproductive Justice) gathered in 1994 to create change based on not just reproductive rights, but social justice.
Learn more about the Black Maternal Health Caucus with Rep. Lauren Underwood in this podcast with the American Hospital Association >
And this level of action is long overdue. In the United States, women are more likely to die from complications of pregnancy and birth than in any other high-resource country. Black and Indigenous women are 2x to 3x more likely than white women to die (Every Mom Counts). And although Black women make up about 13% of the female population, they account for nearly 40% of maternal deaths (NYTimes). The campaign behind Black maternal health, organized by Every Mom Counts, puts it simply: “racism, not race, is killing Black, Brown, and Indigenous people in our maternity care system” (Every Mom Counts).
This insight is not new. The gross disparity of mortality rates between white and Black communities has existed since the U.S. started collecting data in 1850 (NYTimes). Prominent sociologist W.E.B. Du Bois wrote about this in his book “The Philadelphia Negro” in 1899 and mourned the death of his baby son in “The Soul of Black Folk” a couple of years later (NYTimes). But the collision of COVID-19 and the protests exacerbated decades of searing inequalities, highlighting the limited access and poor care that Black people receive from hospitals (NYTimes).
There have also been more documented stories of Black women experiencing discrimination – and worse – through their maternal health journey. Kira Johnson went to the hospital for a routine C-section. She suffered from internal bleeding for ten hours before the medical staff at Cedars Sinai took action, and ultimately lost her life (4Kira4Moms). Serena Williams publicly shared her horrifying experience giving birth in Vogue Magazine, and Olympian Allyson Felix testified in Congress about a traumatic birthing experience of her own (Washington Post).
It’s clear, as we covered in one of our earliest newsletters, that our society has a long way to go to respect Black women. We saw that with the coverage of the death of Breonna Taylor and other cis and trans women murdered during the protests (Anti-Racism Daily), and watching that unfold with the violence against Megan Thee Stallion, a prominent Black female artist (Jezebel).
As a result, Black, Ingenious, and other cisgender, transgender and gender non-binary people of color are left unheard in the conversation on reproductive justice. A recent article in the NYTimes garnered controversy when young activists expressed how their focus on reproductive rights is different than the feminist movement of the 1970s, which centered the needs of more affluent white women. Instead, they feel more compelled to address immediate, ‘life or death” situations that endanger the rights to access and opportunity for those services (NYTimes).
“A lot of the language I heard was about protecting Roe v. Wade. It felt grounded in the ’70s feminist movement. And it felt like, I can’t focus on abortion access if my people are dying. The narrative around abortion access wasn’t made for people from the hood”.
Brea Baker, an activist and organizer in Atlanta, for the NYTimes
But here’s the thing: data suggests that the majority of maternal deaths are preventable. Expanding Medicaid coverage before delivery and post-partum can prevent two-thirds of maternal mortality (NYTimes). Data from the CDC shows that this coverage is critical, particularly after childbirth. Lower-income mothers are eligible for Medicaid, which supports 40% of all pregnancies in the U.S. Still, coverage expires shortly after their child is born – although the coverage varies widely by state. Women of color are more likely than white women to be covered by Medicaid, so this disparity contributes to the high mortality rates for Black women (KFF). Studies prove that consistent support throughout the pregnancy decrease mortality rates and increase the health of mother and child (NYTimes).
Increasing health insurance coverage is part of the movement (and is one of the nine bills included in the Momnibus). But so is addressing the broader, systemic aspects of racism that affect Black maternal health long before someone decides to have a child. Everything from the environment to the stress of racial microaggressions, housing insecurity, unequal pay, access to transportation and healthy food, and many other factors influence one’s opportunity to have a healthy pregnancy and birth.
So as we do this work, we must remember that reproductive justice extends beyond the hospital. Reproductive justice is means solving environmental racism (New Security Beat) and dismantling the harmful practices at immigration detention, including the forced separation of families and barring access to necessary medical support (American Progress). It means abolishing the over-policing of Black, Indigenous, and people of color (Every Mother Counts). And most importantly, it means listening to Black women and centering their needs, especially when transforming maternal care.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Congresswomen are passing a series of bills to support Black mental health, supported by dozens of leaders, allies, and activists in the reproductive justice movement
Black women are disproportionately more likely to experience poor maternal health
Although lack of coverage plays a major role, the systemic impact of racism – from treatment at hospitals, to police brutality, unsafe environments and more – affects Black maternal health
We need to listen to Black women and center their needs, in this movement and all others
RELATED ISSUES
June 14, 2020 | Learn how racism is a public health crisis.
July 12, 2020 | Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.
June 5, 2020 | Breonna Taylor. Say her name. And remember it.
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