As Donald Trump’s presidency looms over America for a second term, Black women find themselves grappling with a future fraught with even more perilous maternal health outcomes. While reproductive health is under siege for all women, Black women face a uniquely dire reality.
Compared to their white counterparts, Black women are three times more likely to die during childbirth, have higher rates of preterm births, and suffer from infant mortality at disproportionate rates. With the return of Trump’s administration, many Black women are now forced to rethink their futures and confront agonizing decisions about whether or not to have children at all.
Kayla Spruel, a graduate student at the University of Delaware, expressed her fears candidly. “I fear having a child and during labor, my partner has to try to save me, and possibly can’t.” For Spruel and many other Black women, the uncertainty surrounding maternal healthcare under Trump’s conservative policies has created a haunting reality that challenges their once-hopeful visions of family.
The Harrowing Vision of “Project 25”
At the center of these fears is “Project 25,” a 900-page policy framework designed to roll back reproductive rights nationwide. Latham Thomas, founder of the Mama Glow Foundation, labeled the policy as a window into “a draconian future.” For many Black women, the effects of this conservative agenda are already a stark reality in states like Texas, Louisiana, and Alabama, where abortion bans have skyrocketed maternal mortality rates.
Between 2019 and 2022, maternal mortality rates in Texas alone jumped by 56%, with Black women seeing an alarming increase from 31.6 to 43.6 deaths per 100,000 live births. Compounding this crisis is the glaring underrepresentation of Black women in obstetrics and gynecology—making up less than 2% of the 37,000 OBGYNs nationwide. Without adequate representation, advocating for care in emergencies becomes even more daunting.
Opting Out of Motherhood
For many, the grim landscape has led to a rejection of traditional family roles. “I told my mom the same night after the election results, I would feel guilty bringing a child into this,” shared Spruel, who took to TikTok to voice her disillusionment. “Dating is hard, life is hard, and now losing rights makes it scarier.”
This growing fear has led some Black women to embrace movements like the 4B movement, which advocates against marriage, dating, and procreation as a form of protection. Others, like Jamila Wheeler, an administrative assistant from Cleveland, have decided motherhood may no longer be worth the risk. “We’re not being heard because people think we’re ‘strong’ because we’re Black. That strength is costing us our lives,” she said.
The collective grief of abandoning dreams of motherhood is both sobering and transformative. Wheeler reflected, “I imagined a life where I’m in love, raising a family, and thriving. Now, I feel I must prepare to care for myself and my family without that dream ever coming true.”
Reimagining Community and Care
While some are choosing to forgo motherhood altogether, others are mobilizing toward a brighter future for reproductive justice. Latham Thomas underscores the importance of creating a “birth village” that extends beyond hospital care. This includes working with doulas, therapists, and nutritionists to bridge the racial maternal mortality gap.
“When we think historically, we see lessons in resilience,” Thomas said. “Community is one of the biggest tools we can use to combat these challenges.” Black maternal health advocates are pushing forward, determined to protect birthing Black women, regardless of the political climate.
Spruel, too, has reimagined what it means to nurture children without pursuing traditional motherhood. As a former preschool teacher, she finds fulfillment in fostering meaningful connections with the children in her care. “I’ve realized that life is so much more than traditional roles. I’m happy pursuing education, traveling, and building a full life for myself.”
Reclaiming Joy and Power Amid Uncertainty
Amid these seismic shifts in family planning, one message rings clear: Black women are resilient. Latham Thomas captures this beautifully: “There’s nothing—not anyone, not any administration—that can stop us in our brilliance and joy. Birth is about joy, and I want us to reclaim that.”
For Black women navigating the tumultuous waters of maternal healthcare and reproductive justice, the path forward may be filled with uncertainty. But it is also lined with strength, community, and a renewed commitment to redefining what it means to live authentically on their own terms.