A SHROUDED ANATOMY

A Shrouded Anatomy

Reproductive justice and the long fight for bodily autonomy

content warning: abortion, pregnancy, racism, and discrimination.

“I urge each one of us here to reach down into that deep place of knowledge inside herself and touch that terror and loathing of any different that lives there. See whose face it wears. Then the personal as the political can begin to illuminate all our choices.”

- Audre Lorde, The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House

In the spring of 1977, a group of Black feminists and lesbians gathered in Boston, Massachusetts to publish the Combahee River Collective Statement. This statement defined contemporary Black feminism by centering “the manifold and simultaneous oppressions that all women of color face.” American writer, professor, and civil rights activist Audre Lorde was among those in attendance.

This group’s name came from the Combahee Ferry Raid, a Union Army attack led by Harriet Tubman in 1863. A co-founder of the organization, Barbara Smith, recognized the need for distinct political action in response to the experiences of Black women. Feminist movements at the time were largely governed by white women who lacked empathy and understanding of the Black experience, while the civil rights movement was overwhelmingly masculine.

The synthesis of these identities was the framework upon which reproductive justice was built: a movement rooted in resisting the marginalization of bodies along intersecting axes of oppression. Reproductive justice cannot and should not be reduced solely to family planning and abortion rights. Rather, this human right to bodily autonomy should encompass one’s entire standard of living, including access to health resources, voting rights, racial justice, income equality, and protection from police violence. Achieving this level of universal access requires us to confront how these power dynamics intensify at the crossroads of identity politics.

Financial and political barriers toward accessing abortions in Rhode Island

The Supreme Court’s recent decision in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization held that the U.S. Constitution does not confer a right to abortion. This rejection of nearly 50 years of protection under Roe v. Wade will likely lead to the outright ban of abortion in nearly half of U.S. states. But the right to an abortion was actually lost much earlier, with the passage of the first Hyde Amendment in 1977, which prohibited the expenditure of federal funds on abortions. In the U.S., the legal right to an abortion does not constitute the right to access an abortion. This highly discriminatory policy prevents Medicaid and other public insurance programs from funding abortions, which disproportionately harms Black and brown communities.

In 2019, the state of Rhode Island passed the Reproductive Privacy Act, codifying the right to an abortion in state legisture—for those who can afford it. In other words, individuals using state-funded insurance or Medicaid will still not have access. These policies represent a cruel perpetuation of systemic racism in the healthcare industry in the U.S., which specifically harms low-income people who are disproportionately people of color. This illuminates the core of the issue: reproductive justice is, and always has been, an intersectional issue.

In July, a collective of activist groups in Rhode Island published an open letter to Governor Dan McKee in support of the Equality in Abortion Coverage Act (EACA). This act would eliminate the policy that denies health coverage for abortion under Medicaid and associated plans, including those used by state employees. The number of employees on the state payroll as of 2018 was around 14,000, the highest number reported for Rhode Island since 2008; in addition, the number of Rhode Islanders receiving Medicaid expanded by over 40,000 people from the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic to April 2021. Both of these statistics fail to include the many immigrants and undocumented people who already encounter impediments to health services; for these communities, the threat of contact with the criminal legal system invokes fears of detention, deportation, and family separation. The letter to Governor McKee closes as follows: “We must act urgently as if our lives depend on it, because they do.” As stated by the Women’s Health and Education Fund (WHEF), the average cost of an abortion in Rhode Island is around $600; for many people, having this procedure would require giving up other necessities like groceries and rent money. The SCOTUS decision will not prevent abortions from happening, but it will change where they are able to happen and for whom. This inequity is exacerbated as abortion rights fall under state jurisdiction; not only are certain states deprived of necessary access, but states where such services are still offered are strained with the influx of out-of-state patients seeking care, overwhelming available staff and resources. Those unable to afford travel to legalized areas will inevitably seek more drastic measures; unhygienic, unlicensed, and self-inflicted abortions are life-threatening procedures. This is part of a larger relationship between financial stability and the right to bodily autonomy in the U.S., as the insufficient protections provided by preventative care, paid leave policies, and childcare services continue to restrict low-income people and people of color within an irreparable underclass.

It’s no secret that the overturning of Roe v. Wade has been met with resistance on a national level as pressures are put on President Biden to declare a public health emergency. Under such a declaration, state governors can use their legislative power to issue executive orders that would protect access to abortion. In Rhode Island, the legislation needed to remove barriers against state-funded abortion coverage failed in the previous two General Assembly sessions, meaning the ballot for affordable reproductive care will continue to be delayed until the assembly reconvenes in January.

The stewards of the effort to pass the EACA were two local community-based nonprofit organizations, the Womxn Project and SISTA Fire. Both of these groups are dedicated to the collective power and solidarity between people affected by reproductive justice issues, specifically Black women and queer people. This issue has been avidly endorsed by community organizers and members of the assembly, notably including Rhode Island senator Tiara Mack (D-Providence): the first openly queer Black person to serve in the State Senate. In an interview with LGBTQ Nation, she reflected on the GOP and anti-human rights campaigns, saying they were “centered and targeted towards people’s access to bodily autonomy.” Despite the threats to reproductive justice and the long inaction of prior administrations, Mack expresses a great deal of faith in other young people and community building amongst activists in Rhode Island. This work is instrumental in reframing politics as something that we all are affected by and likewise can play a role in. “When you are unapologetically yourself,” Mack says, “and you stand firmly in the beliefs that are grounded in people and rights and equity, you can’t lose.”

Intersectionality between abortion and LGBTQ+ rights in conversations on bodily autonomy

The overturning of Roe v. Wade has significant implications for queer people, most obviously through the fact that the Dobbs decisions targets the same foundations used to defend trans rights and same-sex intimacy through the Due Process Clause. Under the 14th Amendment, the government and courts are required to uphold the human right to equal protection under law— which should include reproductive autonomy. Beyond the scope of reproductive care, the Dobbs decision immediately endangered any right not explicitly outlined in the constitution. It seems that the absence of intersectionality from the discourse of reproductive justice has exposed the cracks in judicial interpretations of equality.

It’s difficult to conceptualize the significance of these decisions in historically blue states like Rhode Island, which prides itself on being highly liberal and at the forefront of transgender and LGBTQ+ visibility. But Rhode Island, as the most Catholic state in the nation, also functions under a religious prerogative. Religious groups have frequently collided with feminist and queer rights activists in state legislation. Even with the majority of voters supporting the rights of trans and non-binary folks and the liberal agenda as a whole, the substantial presence of pro-life rhetoric continues to pose a threat to bodily autonomy.

This year, Rhode Island legislators introduced two new bills representing the most antitrans legislation in the state’s recent history. The first of these bills, S2501, bans the participation of trans girls in school sports. H7539, the second bill, would prohibit inclusive sex education for LGBTQ+ youth, restrict curriculum relating to racism and oppression, and prevent trans and non-binary students from being addressed by their preferred names and pronouns. These bills directly attack the gender identities of children, denying them bodily autonomy. According to a 2017 survey by the Human Rights Campaign Foundation, 63% of Black and African American transgender and gender-expansive youth try to avoid using the restroom at school. This kind of alienation perpetuates structures of surveillance and fosters hostility in what should be an inclusive and safe educational environment.

The intersection between the attack on abortion and LGBTQ+ rights is also evident in the disturbing rise of digital surveillance by law enforcement agencies. License plate data, registered pregnancies, period tracking apps, and internet history have all been used by prosecutors to build cases against people who have abortions in states where they have been criminalized. Criminal attorneys can issue search warrants to request private user information through third-party platforms. For LGBTQ+ people, the surveillance of dating apps puts their privacy at risk by exposing sensitive information such as sexual orientation, location, and HIV status, offering an example of how the attack on abortion rights mirrors a broader struggle for bodily autonomy among the queer community.

To quote Black feminist legal theorist and civil rights scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw, “This process of seeing what was previously viewed as isolated and individual as societal and systematic has … characterized the identity politics of African Americans, other people of color, and gays and lesbians ... ” Or, for marginalized identities, above all, the personal is political.

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The post-Roe world bestows upon us a common adversary: hopelessness. Despite the apparent bleakness of our current legislature, the community connections forged through resistance present a springboard for progressive action. Reproductive justice advocates around the country recognize that choice is meaningless without access. Until mainstream feminism centers intersectional thinking and solidarity, the repressive policies of the past will persist under an artificial lens of inclusivity. It is only when the most marginalized individuals possess the full human right to self-determined living that our society becomes truly free from gendered, sexual, and racial inhibitions.

Intersectionality enables previously silenced communities to raise their voices as one, uplifting other marginalized people and reframing the discourse surrounding reproductive rights. It is the hope of many that recognition of these issues will help to end the stigma surrounding bodies with uteruses. Tiara Mack has widely advocated for the value of inclusive education; by encouraging vulnerability and authenticity in conversations about reproductive justice, these issues can be destigmatized for future generations. Comprehensive, queer-inclusive, and pleasure-based sexual education for young people is critically important to ending the demonization of sex and negative attitudes towards modes of contraception. Teaching inclusivity and acceptance equips young people with skills and knowledge for forming healthy relationships, making informed sexual decisions, and growing love and appreciation for themselves and their bodies.

Revolution never happened in isolation. Rather, this change will happen through community action and the uplifting of intersectional identities. As Mack puts it: “We are not singleissue people with single-issue lives.”

KEELIN GAUGHAN B’25 hopes that you’ve registered to vote.