Quantcast
RELATED

Updated: Friday, June 24, 2022: The Supreme Court has officially overturned Roe v. Wade. And I'm tired.


Like so many of us, I'm sad, I'm heartbroken, I'm angry. When news like this is delivered, I see people on my timeline immediately propelled into righteous action, as if acting off instinct. And I’ve been the same way many times when a tragic reminder of just how little control we have over our bodies is delivered to us. But right now I just feel numb with anxiety.

Restricting access to abortion has just been one of the numerous ways in which this country has told us our bodies are not ours to control. From forced sterilizations of poor Black and brown women to forced breedings during slavery to rape and incarceration, our bodies are battlegrounds for policymakers to keep us under their rule.

Fortunately, there are Black and brown reproductive justice activists and radical organizations like the National Network of Abortion Funds and the National Black Women’s Reproductive Justice Agenda who have been doing this work for years and have been preparing for this outcome. What they have long since understood is what Justice Alito has made plain in his draft opinion attacking the legal precedents for marriage equality and the right to your sexuality along with abortion: everything is connected. It’s what legal scholar and founding practitioner of Critical Race Theory Mari Matsuda means when she implores us to “Ask the other question”:

“When I see something that looks racist, I ask ‘Where is the patriarchy in this?’ When I see something that looks sexist, I ask ‘Where is the heterosexism in this?” Matsuda challenges us to explore.

Likewise, fighting for abortion rights involves us contending with a number of things. Fighting for abortion also means fighting for a world in which prisons and police no longer exist. When even so much as having a miscarriage can lead to your incarceration especially if you are Black or brown, we need to collectively grapple with the true functions of prison as not a means for safety but one for subjugation. Fighting for abortion means fighting for transgender people. It’s fighting for the trans men and the nonbinary people who can also get pregnant.

Fighting for abortion means fighting for free access to healthcare. Abortion is healthcare, but something being healthcare in this country is not enough when our healthcare system is not accessible to everyone and can leave people in crushing debt. It's fighting for immigrants and for the disabled and the poor. When we understand the interconnectedness of our struggles, we can be more equipped to fight back and win.

I’m not pro choice, I’m pro abortion. There’s nothing morally wrong with wanting one or getting one. There doesn’t need to be any other reason to terminate a pregnancy other than a pregnancy not being wanted. Abortion access is just one of the ways we remove the chains this world has on our bodies. For today, I’m sad. I have no hope in the cowardice and cruelty of our elected officials. It’s the radical organizers, the ones who have compiled lists of abortion funds in every state if you need one or know someone who does– that’ll lead us into the direction of freedom. As abolitionist Mariame Kaba always says, “Hope is a discipline.” A new world where we are free is possible.


 

RELATED

 
ALSO ON XONECOLE
Because We Are Still IT, Girl: It Girl 100 Returns

Last year, when our xoNecole team dropped our inaugural It Girl 100 honoree list, the world felt, ahem, a bit brighter.

It was March 2024, and we still had a Black woman as the Vice President of the United States. DEI rollbacks weren’t being tossed around like confetti. And more than 300,000 Black women were still gainfully employed in the workforce.

Though that was just nineteen months ago, things were different. Perhaps the world then felt more receptive to our light as Black women.

At the time, we launched It Girl 100 to spotlight the huge motion we were making as dope, GenZennial Black women leaving our mark on culture. The girls were on the rise, flourishing, drinking their water, minding their business, leading companies, and learning to do it all softly, in rest. We wanted to celebrate that momentum—because we love that for us.

KEEP READINGShow less
These Black Women Left Their Jobs To Turn Their Wildest Dreams Into Reality

“I’m too big for a f***ing cubicle!” Those thoughts motivated Randi O to kiss her 9 to 5 goodbye and step into her dreams of becoming a full-time social media entrepreneur. She now owns Randi O P&R. Gabrielle, the founder of Raw Honey, was moving from state to state for her corporate job, and every time she packed her suitcases for a new zip code, she regretted the loss of community and the distance in her friendships. So she created a safe haven and village for queer Black people in New York.

KEEP READINGShow less
LATEST POSTS