Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Protect abortion rights.

After the Supreme Court failed to block the legislation, Texas passed a law that essentially bans abortions after six weeks, which is in clear violation of Roe v. Wade. Known as Abortion providers in the state emphasized that the law, known as Senate Bill 8, will cause “at least 85%” of abortion patients to be unable to seek care. As a result, it’s likely that most abortion clinics will be forced to close (NYTimes). There has not been such a coordinated attack on abortion rights since the Supreme Court legalized abortion nationwide in 1973 (Pew Trust).


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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

After the Supreme Court failed to block the legislation, Texas passed a law that essentially bans abortions after six weeks, which is in clear violation of Roe v. Wade. Known as Abortion providers in the state emphasized that the law, known as Senate Bill 8, will cause “at least 85%” of abortion patients to be unable to seek care. As a result, it’s likely that most abortion clinics will be forced to close (NYTimes). There has not been such a coordinated attack on abortion rights since the Supreme Court legalized abortion nationwide in 1973 (Pew Trust).

These abortion laws affect everyone who seeks to get an abortion in Texas, and the precedent this law sets threatens the rights of people in other states, too. But in Texas and across the country, people of color are less likely to have access to abortions already. Burdened by the lack of abortion clinics, costs, and lack of representation of doctors, abortion access has already been inequitably distributed. Much of this is intentional, the result of laws limiting access to reproductive care since enslavement.

Before the Civil War, abortion and contraceptives were legal in the U.S. These were administered by midwives, which, at the time, were majority Black and Indigenous women. Their work was increasingly considered a threat to white male doctors who dominated many other fields of care. They found the notion of white babies being delivered by non-white midwives both threatening to their careers and distasteful in the lens of white supremacy (ACLU).

What followed was an intentional smear campaign that devalued the work of midwives, referring to their practice as “barbaric” and “uncivilized.” In addition, the white, male-led field started to lobby the government to place restrictions on the services they offered – including abortions – so they could monopolize what’s left. These rules, of course, limited abortions to those deemed Medical organizations, like the American Medical Association (AMA), barred women and Black people from membership from ensuring that they weren’t seen as qualified practitioners (ACLU). (this is despite the fact that the reproductive science we know today was often the result of inhumane scientific research carried out on their bodies). The disparities of perception on who deserves to carry and birth children also contributed to harmful legislation passed against non-white women during this time, particularly related to immigration.

The most damning part of the bill is that it places individuals, not the government, responsible for enforcing the rules. If you, an everyday citizen, think someone in Texas is trying to obtain an abortion after six weeks of pregnancy, you can sue the prospective provider. If you win, you might even be compensated.

This is dangerous for a couple of reasons. From a legal perspective, it makes it very difficult to challenge this law in the courts. According to the NYTimes, “when a state passes an unconstitutional law, the typical way to challenge it is to seek an injunction against the state officer in charge of enforcing the law” (NYTimes). But because in this case, the people are the “state officers,” there’s no legal precedent for filing an injunction against them. Even if you could, it’s difficult to file an injunction against people that “could” sue an abortion provider before they already had. For example, I live in Texas, and although I’m technically granted this power, there’s no way I’d ever exercise it. It’s not easy to drag people like me into court, lumped in with all other citizens.

From a moral perspective, this draconian law places individuals as the prosecutors against people that can carry children. It’s absurd that individuals should have that much entitlement to any child-carrying person’s body – period. But it’s somehow more sinister than that. Private party enforcement has been used throughout history in various legislation but has a persistent presence in laws that disproportionately impact communities of color. Our policing system, for example, is rooted in the capture and torture of enslaved Black and Indigenous people and was supported by everyday white volunteers granted autonomy to enforce slavery laws (The Conversation). Redlining and other real estate tactics used to keep Black people out of adequate housing were enforced by private contracts for decades until deemed unconstitutional in Shelley v. Kraemer in 1948 (Anti-Racism Daily).

We already know that the abortion restriction laws disproportionately impact communities of color. According to the CDC, Black people in America are over three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white people (Refinery 29). The rise in anti-abortion sentiment is part of a broader culture war accelerated during the Trump administration. Laws like this one in Texas are being passed alongside laws that limit the rights of transgender youth, ban curriculum related to the racial inequities of our society, and make voting more difficult for marginalized communities (Pew Trust). This is a coordinated effort against the freedoms that everyone in our nation deserves. Take a moment today to support abortion rights groups in your area.


Key Takeaways


  • After the Supreme Court failed to block the legislation, Texas passed a law that essentially bans abortions after six weeks, which is in clear violation of Roe v. Wade.

  • The law is designed to be enforced by private citizens, who makes them responsible for reporting abortions and adds to a history of citizens acting as vigilantes.

  • Abortion access is influenced by racism and white supremacy.


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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

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

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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.


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By Nicole Cardoza

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


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PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT


Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More