Rooted in Justice: At the Intersection of Black Queer Reproduction
Written by Tieanna Burton
The thought of children, let alone having them, hadn’t crossed my mind until fairly recently. In fact, for most of my formative years, I had rejected the idea entirely. But there is something drastically different about being told you are incapable of doing something that should come naturally to you. I was 22 years old when I learned that I would not be able to conceive naturally and would need to undergo in vitro fertilization (IVF) as a part of the conception process. It didn’t bother me then, but now it’s a terrifying thought. I’ve spent years researching out-of-pocket costs, employer plan coverage, and success rates– and even the looming expense and potential debt occurrence do not terrify me as much as the impact of having overturned Roe v. Wade will have.
As a Black queer woman, with a minor medical condition who desires to start a family, I have made peace with the fact that about 34% of large companies in the US cover IVF, that live births per first embryo transfer has a 41% success rate, and that the average cost of one cycle of IVF without insurance can average upwards of $30,000– but what I am having difficulty grappling with is our current fight for reproductive justice.
At the center of most conversations is the buzzword abortion. When abortion alone does not define reproductive justice, it is merely an option. When defined clearly, reproductive justice means the human right to control our sexuality, our gender, our work, and our reproduction. This holds true when nearly 50 years ago the Supreme Court established the legal right to access abortion nationwide with its landmark decision in the Roe v. Wade case in 1973. This meant access to fertility drugs, contraception, hormone treatments, pain management as well as access to safe and informed termination procedures. Yet, today, those rights are in question– which begs the even bigger question, at what point do laws for the greater good outweigh the comfortability of a select few?
We claim that the power of our democracy is rooted in the melting pot of our differences - our cultures, ethnicities, and experiences - but that is not reflected in the policies instilled by our government on our behalf. To say that reproductive justice is a human right with the level of conviction that is cemented into our Constitution, and to then reverse that decision 50 years later is not only an uprooting of a woman’s right to choose but reflects a government that is not clear on its values or protecting the values and sovereignty of its people.
The reversal of policies such as this one, are byproducts of a systemic issue that can be traced through the tangled web that weaves through every corner of our democracy. Institutions that operate on a presumption of heteronormativity inherently “others” anyone that lives their life outside of its confines. The web acts as a safe haven for those that exist within or assimilate into the spider’s way of life. However, for those who do not exist within those confines, those same institutions that are meant to keep a spider safe inherently become lethal and impossible to escape– imprisoned within a woven system that perpetuates the “others” disenfranchisement. This is why many are unprepared for the average cost of raising a child to the age of 18 which is estimated at over $272K in the United States according to the USDA; why the Black maternal mortality rate is 3.3 times higher than white women post-birth according to the CDC; and why this country’s childcare system has neither the infrastructure or viability to truly support families through paid parental leave, accessible mental healthcare, and universal subsidized child care.
This Supreme Court decision gravely impacts underrepresented communities of color who are already fighting to survive. As a Black queer woman, with a minor medical condition who desires to start a family, I’ve experienced queerness being emphasized not only as an inconvenience through policy, but completely absent. Many outdated medical practices exclude how BIPOC people will be impacted at the intersections of their experiences. IVF, for example, requires a couple to have attempted conceiving “naturally” for a year prior to seeking treatment which is impossible for gender expansive, same sex couples. We are forced to operate within a society, rooted in systemic oppression, that says couples like mine are invalid– for family planning, parenthood, and thereby existence. Because when you systematically prevent a community from having autonomy with how they produce their next generation, you are effectively cutting them off at the root. A social genocide. The ability to ensure and protect the livelihood of our children– our posterity– is a core human right; so much so that it is baked into the Preamble of the United States Constitution.
With this in mind, the fight for reproductive justice is rooted in freedom. Freedom of choice, bodily autonomy, safe sex practices, sex education, and family planning. Just as I am family planning, each and every one of us should remember that reproductive justice is imperative not only for people who are having children but in determining how and when those children are had. Reproductive rights pour into every other human right. They are food supply, housing, economic and social relationships, transportation, education, and health care– all of which effectively determine one’s length and quality of life, across all communities. The right to decide when one can have a child determines the next generation's success. That choice is how we show up, support, guide, and raise the next generation. Now is the time to fight.
Although Roe v. Wade has been overturned federally, we are not void of power. It is up to all of us to vote to protect our individual rights and the freedom of choice at the state level in the November midterm elections.
Vote YES on Proposal 3 to protect Women’s Rights and Reproductive Freedom
For information on voting in the State of Michigan, visit www.mi.gov/vote
About the Author
TIEANNA BURTON
Native Detroiter Tieanna Burton is a Black feminist, community storyteller and visual designer with a passion for social impact and equitable community programming. Her writing explores gender, sexuality and the human experience as a radical form of healing and expression.