I consider myself fortunate. My newborn was the largest baby in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). He was born healthy and full-term, although he spent a few days in the NICU to address minor issues like jaundice, a heart murmur, and a breathing concern. Luckily, he was discharged after just five days.
Those days were a whirlwind. I was still recovering from a prolonged labor and experiencing the aftermath of a postpartum hemorrhage. Despite my exhaustion, I made the trek to the NICU every few hours to breastfeed and bond with my son. The NICU was filled with tiny infants, each under the warm glow of lights and accompanied by the incessant beeping of monitors. Next to my baby was a much smaller black baby named Jalen. Even though he was smaller, he was clearly older and more active, able to lift his head during tummy time — a surreal sight for someone so small.
No matter when I visited, day or night, Jalen’s mother was there, cradling him in her arms and softly speaking to him. The experience of becoming a mother can often feel isolating; your entire world suddenly centers around a little being you’ve just met. In that unique environment of bright lights and mechanical sounds, Jalen’s mom and I shared a silent solidarity, both striving to give our babies the best start possible.
But did we truly have equal access to healthy beginnings for ourselves and our children? Despite being a wealthy nation, the U.S. ranks poorly in maternal mortality rates, which are on the rise. However, these statistics do not tell the whole story; the rates are disproportionately higher for Black women, who are four times more likely to die from childbirth complications. They also face increased risks of preterm birth and other pregnancy-related issues.
The roots of these disparities run deep and go beyond just socioeconomic status. Even educated and affluent Black women encounter higher risks than their white counterparts. Institutional racism affects how medical professionals respond to their pain and concerns, resulting in fewer timely interventions. Additionally, the everyday stress associated with racism can lead to complications such as preeclampsia and preterm labor. Many Black and Latina mothers, who often work in low-wage jobs, experience discrimination throughout their pregnancy, compounding these risks.
Now, amidst a pandemic, these inequities are likely to worsen. Research indicates that having a doula can significantly improve outcomes for mothers and babies, particularly for Black women. However, due to COVID-19 restrictions in labor and delivery rooms, expectant parents often face the heart-wrenching decision of choosing between their partner’s presence or the support of a doula who can advocate for them in a biased healthcare system.
Access to healthcare is a critical issue that begins long before pregnancy. The previous administration imposed severe restrictions on Title X funding, a vital resource that provides low-income women with reproductive healthcare—services that disproportionately benefit Black (22%) and Latinx (33%) populations. The elimination of this program leaves many without affordable healthcare options, further entrenching existing inequalities. This situation predates the current administration and highlights long-standing disparities in access to evidence-based and affordable healthcare.
The LGBTQ community also faces hurdles in obtaining reproductive care. Trans men, non-binary individuals, and those who defy gender norms often encounter bias and stress when seeking healthcare, particularly as access to services like birth control and abortion becomes limited.
These inequities do not vanish once new parents leave the hospital. Systemic racism and established power structures make quality daycare financially inaccessible for many, forcing parents to make difficult choices about employment or schooling. The pandemic, which disproportionately impacts Black communities, will exacerbate these challenges, leaving many without the freedom to decide if, when, and how to have children or raise them in safe environments.
Reflecting on my experience, my status as a white woman afforded me privileges that I didn’t have to think twice about. I never worried whether my pain would be dismissed or whether I would receive the medical attention my baby and I needed when complications arose. I had the freedom to decide how and when to conceive and deliver my child. However, these advantages are not universally accessible; women of color and those in the LGBTQ community must fight for the rights that many white women enjoy by default.
This is why it is imperative for white women to advocate for reproductive justice. We must listen to and support the voices of Black, Latina, Native, and other marginalized women who have long fought to expand the definition of reproductive freedom beyond just the right to choose abortion.
“Reproductive freedom is a life and death issue for many Black women and deserves as much recognition as any other freedom,” a statement made by a group of twelve Black women in Atlanta 25 years ago, ignited the reproductive justice movement. As white women, we need to acknowledge the struggles faced by others in their pursuit of reproductive autonomy, whether that involves accessing affordable birth control or raising children in safe and supportive environments.
We must recognize our privileges and amplify the voices that have long been advocating for reproductive justice. To begin, we should confront the painful history of white women benefiting from reproductive advocacy while simultaneously oppressing the rights of others. Historically, white women have played a significant role in maintaining systems that deny women of color the reproductive freedoms they deserve. This legacy continues to cast a long shadow over communities of color.
Moreover, white women continue to perpetuate patriarchal norms that harm women of color disproportionately. It was a white woman who authored the oppressive law restricting abortion rights in Alabama, and another who signed it into law. Therefore, it is not enough to simply refrain from harmful actions; we must actively work to heal the wounds of the past and dismantle the systems that perpetuate these injustices.
There are numerous ways to get involved. My organization, 500 Women Scientists, is offering webinars focused on reproductive justice and its intersection with LGBTQIA+ issues and environmental justice. This is an excellent starting point for education and action. Resources like SisterSong’s Blueprint for Sexual and Reproductive Health, Rights, and Justice provide actionable solutions to these inequities.
We all desire to protect ourselves and our children, and we cannot ignore the suffering of others while we thrive. It is imperative that we create a world where everyone has the opportunity to choose how and when to parent, ensuring that all children have a fair shot at life, regardless of their circumstances.
For further reading on related topics, check out this insightful post at Home Insemination Kit and learn more about the IVF experience at Parents – both are valuable resources for understanding reproductive health. Additionally, Intracervical Insemination offers expert insights into these issues.
Summary:
In the context of COVID-19, it is critical for white women to advocate for reproductive justice, recognizing the systemic inequities faced by women of color and the LGBTQ community. This call to action stems from an acknowledgment of privilege and the historical exploitation of marginalized groups. By supporting the reproductive rights of all individuals and addressing the disparities in healthcare access, we can work toward a more equitable society where everyone has the opportunity to make informed decisions about their reproductive futures.