By Alexa Spencer | Word In Black
(WIB) – There’s no feeling like running into an old colleague unexpectedly. Each time, I’m reminded of the many lives I’ve lived as a journalist and a Black woman.
Around Thanksgiving, I attended the Center for Journalism and Democracy’s second annual summit at my alma mater, Howard University. While seated in the Armour J. Blackburn ballroom, part of a building I frequented years ago as a student, I noticed a familiar face at a nearby table. It was a former coworker of mine. An award-winning veteran columnist with whom I shared a desk at a local paper.
We stepped outside and caught up.
“I thought you left journalism to become a doula,” she said, surprised to see me.
“I did,” I told her.
“Well, I’m glad you’re back in journalism,” she said before we parted ways. “You were killing it.”
My mind flashed back to my stint as a birth and postpartum doula. During and after the pandemic, I supported pregnant women, mothers, and their families. For months at a time, I was their go-to person for maternal health education, birth planning, and emotional support. The work was rewarding, but I eventually felt called back to journalism.
The zeal that being a doula gave me hasn’t left. It actually enhances my reporting. As I close out my second year as a health reporter for Word In Black, I’m happy with how my interests intersect. My news coverage highlights various issues facing Black moms, from workplace maternity rights to historic reproductive injustices.
As a former doula, I report through a reproductive justice-informed lens. Meaning my reporting spans every aspect of reproductive health: periods to pregnancy to postpartum and the systems that influence that spectrum.
Here are three reproductive justice topics I covered in 2023:
1. Child Care Unaffordability
The United States is facing a child care affordability crisis. Households should pay no more than 7% of their income on childcare, according to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. But in reality, some parents spend up to 70% of their funds.
An analysis by the Annie E. Casey Foundation found that in 2017, Black working mothers spent more than any other race on child care for two kids — 56% of their income, compared to 51% for American Indian and Alaska Native moms, 42% for Latino moms, and 26% for white moms.
My story, “Childcare Costs Are Crushing Black Single Moms,” profiled a single Black mom who quit her new job after losing eligibility for daycare vouchers because her income exceeded the state of Ohio’s threshold. After being denied higher pay by her employer, she resigned and committed to gig work. The flexibility of delivering packages allowed her to earn money and watch her 5-year-old daughter at the same time.
“This is the most shameful thing ever,” Monica Ward, the mother of two, said.
2. Cash Bail System
Every year, moms around the nation spend Mother’s Day in jail instead of with their children and loved ones. Many can’t afford to pay bail, so they sit in cells for months or years awaiting trial. Black women are especially impacted. Despite making up only 13% of U.S. women, they represent 44% of women in jail.
That’s why National Bail Out (NBO) — a Black-led and Black-centered collective of abolitionist organizers, lawyers, and activists — partners with grassroots organizations to bail Black moms out for Mother’s Day.
In “Why Bailing Black Moms Out for Mother’s Day Matters,” I covered their 2023 efforts. This year, the #FreeBlackMamas collective freed over 25 moms across 13 states. Barred Business, an NBO partner based in Ellenwood, Georgia, frees mothers in Atlanta and provides mental health support, job training, housing, and other resources once they’re home.
“I try not to cry, but I cry every single time [a woman is released] because I think of myself, wishing that someone came for me,” Barred Business executive director Bridgette Simpson said.
3. Poor Access to Maternity Care
A report from March of Dimes revealed that a third of the nation’s counties are designated as “maternity care deserts” — areas with no hospital obstetric care, birth center, or obstetric provider.
Rural counties in the South, where most Black Americans live, and the Midwest represent the majority of maternity care deserts. Black families are feeling the impact. For “How Maternity Care Deserts Put Black Moms at Risk,” I spoke with Adriana Hawkins-Smith, the only Black doula serving McComb, Mississippi’s 12,000 residents.
McComb has one hospital, and Hawkins-Smith said Black moms fear birthing there because multiple Black women have died at the facility during childbirth. One of her clients drove 80 miles north to give birth at a hospital in Jackson, Mississippi’s capital.
“Some of them say, ‘Well, that’s all we have. I just pray they don’t kill me,’” Hawkins-Smith said.
Stay tuned for more reproductive justice coverage in 2024. Subscribe to our weekly health newsletter and follow me on X at @AlexaImani.