On creating hope, community, and collective power in a frightening and uncertain time.

By Nina Liew (MPA ’23)

At the start of this summer, I found out that I was pregnant. This was undesired and unexpected, as I had been using contraception, but I suppose since it had a 98% effectiveness rate, there had to be the 2% — and I happened to be part of it.

I decided to get an abortion. You can probably imagine several reasons for why I chose this, but I shouldn’t feel the need to disclose nor justify my decision. This is part of what “abortions on demand and without apology” means. My body, my choice with no shame, no guilt.

At the Planned Parenthood in lower Manhattan, I dodged the “pro-life” women protesting outside that tried to stop me from getting a routine medical procedure. Once I was safely inside, I had probably my best-ever experience with the U.S. health care system, as someone who grew up in Australia. The staff patiently explained my options and the risks involved. When the doctor noted that one risk of the abortion pills was death (albeit very small), I laughed grimly, and we both acknowledged that the risks from continuing a pregnancy were far greater.

I had noticed when my period was just one week late, but by the time I had my abortion, I was six weeks and three days pregnant, which by the standards of Texas’s draconian Senate Bill 8, would have disqualified me. It would have also meant that my partner, who cared for me when I was almost passing out on our kitchen floor from the side effects of the abortion pills, and any of the Planned Parenthood staff could have been sued for just assisting me. This bill is now being replaced by an even stricter trigger law that bans almost all abortions from the moment of fertilization.

On June 24, just a few days later, the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. I was still bleeding heavily into my maxi pad from my abortion as I made my way to Washington Square Park alongside thousands of others to protest. We were angry, distraught, shocked, and seeking solidarity in the face of catastrophe. 

This decision not only radically changes abortion and health care access, but is also a slippery slope into something far worse. A nation with even greater surveillance and criminalization of people seeking health care. A possible criminalization of miscarriages and in vitro fertilization (IVF), which assists people who want to have children through external fertilization in a laboratory. Justice Clarence Thomas already wants the Supreme Court to reconsider its past rulings on contraception access and same-sex marriage. This massive judicial overreach matters deeply and impacts everyone.

Following the Supreme Court’s rulings, almost half the states in the U.S. have or will enact laws that restrict or make abortions illegal in most cases, including some in cases of rape or where there is a danger to the pregnant person’s life. Medical staff are already denying or delaying care due to the legal risks and uncertainty involved. Even nine-year-old children are being forced to carry a pregnancy caused by their abuser to term. 

This is now the reality for millions of women and people who can become pregnant. The consequences are even more severe for people who are low-income, Black, Indigenous, people of color, transgender, have disabilities, and others who face barriers to access. 

Overturning Roe v. Wade is an unforgivable act, and we should be outraged.

The decision is not even representative of the country’s views — the majority of Americans say abortion should be legal in all or most cases. If it were about being pro-life, then we would instead be passing laws addressing the Black maternal mortality rate, paid parental leave, pre-K, universal health care, and enacting stricter gun laws. But we aren’t, because too many of our representatives are being paid off by lobby groups, are motivated by greed or misled worldviews, or keep telling us to wait. Instead, it is about power and control of women and marginalized people.

Our response needs to keep our government accountable and democratic, and to build collective power, resilience, and hope.

First of all, we need to ensure that our systems work and are in check. This won’t be easy, but it is necessary. To protect reproductive freedoms, we need to repeal the Hyde Amendment, which blocks federal Medicaid funding for most abortions, disproportionately impacting low-income people and Black and Hispanic women. We equally need to expand and codify protections — both federally and state by state. 

To stop the slippery slope of other changes and to have a government that truly represents us, we need to address the overreach of the Supreme Court, and we need genuine democracy by fighting voter suppression, gerrymandering, and reforming money in politics just to start.

However, I hear you. Citizens have voted for the “right” people, and still, change is slow. Democratic leaders like Vice President Kamala Harris telling us, “with your vote, you can act” or House Speaker Nancy Pelosi using this moment to ask for money can feel like a cruel joke.

Our present and future needs are urgent, so on top of fixing our political system, we need to take matters into our own hands. This means strengthening community groups, funding mutual aid, and supporting unions and grassroots organizing. We should be ecstatic that unions are making a comeback. Organizing and community-centered care builds power, including the civic engagement and political influence we will need for the midterms and 2024 elections.

Real and lasting political and social change will come from public pressure and achieving a critical mass in civic and voter engagement. This starts with each of us. Now is the time to double down to care for family, friends, and neighbors. 

If you don’t know where to start, consider what lights your fire and research organizations and networks you can join or support. Existing organizations like SisterSong, the National Domestic Workers Alliance, Make the Road, American Civil Liberties Union, and mutual aid networks are already doing great work and have built expertise and relationships. Come in ready to learn, respect their time and knowledge, and consider what you can commit to on an ongoing basis because long-term, sustainable community building and activism are necessary. This will also be where you will find hope and inspiration from others who feel the same way as you do about fighting for justice.

I’ll leave you with some words from American civil rights leader Valarie Kaur: “What if this darkness is not the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb?”

This is just the beginning of what is to come, and what we choose to do next will determine our future.

Nina Liew (MPA ’23) is studying Economic and Political Development with a specialization in Management. She is a committee member of SIPA’s Civic and Voter Engagement Coalition and the Working Group for Race, Income, Solidarity, and Economics.

The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and not those of the author's employers or affiliated organizations.