"Reproductive justice is like a constellation, and abortion access is one of the stars in the greater constellation of justice." - raven e. Freeborn (they/them), Avow Texas CEO
Feature by Aarohi Sheth, originally published in Scalawag Magazine
Houston-based doula and Scalawag editor Aarohi Sheth and Avow Texas CEO raven e. Freeborn discuss the effects of SB 8 as well as the future of reproductive justice in the South as a whole.
Aarohi Sheth (AS): Hi raven, it’s good to speak with you again. Would you mind starting us off by sharing how you got into birth work and became a doula?
raven e. Freeborn (RF): My entry into birth work began with organizing. I was organizing around ending capital punishment and against the family police system, but particularly, my organizing has to do with the way that states and governments create crises that the people have to balance on their backs. I started as an abortion doula in 2016 when I lived in D.C., and this was my first action after learning that Erica Garner died. Erica Garner was the daughter of Eric Garner, who was murdered publicly by the New York Police Department, and Erica Garner died of preventable pregnancy complications. I was, at the time, already a doula, and came to know that I wanted to be a part of birth work that was more intersectional and look at all the ways that people’s health is compromised by way of identity or imbalances in power. So that’s a roundabout answer to how I got where I am.
AS: No, that was great; I appreciate you sharing. But before we talk more about your work around capital punishment and some of these intersections between the systems you mentioned, can you talk a little bit about why y’all at Avow identify as an “abortion-forward org”? What exactly does that mean, and why is it important for y’all to identify that way?
RF: Absolutely, that’s a great question. So, one, we understand that, particularly at this time, abortion is one of the more volatile social issues. That it’s often used as a political bargaining chip, and that ultimately, in Texas, the interests of the people are much more pro-abortion than the bans we’re living under. So at Avow, we’re making some strategic pivots. One of the things that we knew was necessary was to maintain a focus on abortion access as a critical point of accessible, free, safe healthcare that Texans need and deserve. In order to secure and protect abortion access for all Texans, we have to be really committed to what Texans need to thrive, which is what reproductive justice lays out for us. We know that reproductive justice is the right to have a child, to not have a child, and to parent any children you have in safe and sustainable communities, and so we know that we’ll get to a pro-abortion future by standing up for reproductive justice.
AS: Yeah, I really love that last point. When I was first doing my doula training, maybe like four years ago, I recognized how the way we talk about reproductive health is really limited by the medical-industrial complex, and then the way we talk about reproductive rights is limited by the Constitution, the government, the state. We’re intentionally not taught to talk about all the things that reproductive justice encompasses and how it goes beyond the womb. Can you further define what reproductive justice is to you? What does it involve in Texas and beyond?
RF: Yeah, that’s a great question. I’ll first start with the idea that reproductive justice itself is a human rights framework. It’s based on a kind of shared understanding across the globe that reproductive rights, which include abortion access, is in itself a human right, so it just should happen, right? It’s a fundamental block of the way that we organize our society, and so that is one of the first major things for us is understanding that we’re not asking for extraordinary measures. We’re saying that what humans basically need in order for them to survive—the government not only should not interfere with that, but should be responsible for organizing itself in a way that ensures people are able to access their rights.
The other thing for Avow is that we also think about reproductive justice as individuals demonstrating their own empowerment, so that people have the access that they need to support their own bodily autonomy, that they can make decisions that foster joyful living with others. We recognize that when reproductive justice is happening in the world, individuals demonstrate their empowerment by contributing to structures that protect and preserve everyone’s safety and dignity. So whether that’s the ballot box as a place where you can cast a vote to protect and preserve people’s safety and dignity, or it’s your local tenant rights meeting, or a mutual aid network, or your local daycare and preschool, right? We know that abortion clinics are also a piece of that structure that they’re protecting and preserving both safety and dignity. So we hold those two things together. We say that ultimately reproductive justice is like a constellation, and abortion access is one of the stars in the greater constellation of justice.
AS: Beautiful, I appreciated you naming all the possibilities. I also want to go back to something you mentioned earlier. Obviously, the family policing system plays an enormous role in the lack of reproductive justice in Texas and elsewhere. And I know you mentioned your entry point to this work was around capital punishment. Can you speak a little bit on the growing intersections between pregnancy, the family policing system, and incarceration in Texas specifically?
RF: Well, you know, as we’re thinking about the fifth anniversary of SB 8, an important piece of our conversation is about the criminalization of care. So we know that care is being denied across the state, and that Texans are suffering, and we know a couple of ways that’s showing up, right? That it’s both a reflection on who gets to survive the ban and who doesn’t survive the ban—and also the ways that the deep harm of abortion bans is showing up in people’s lives.
We know that sepsis rates are soaring across Texas, particularly those folks who are gestating or pregnant. We know that Black pregnant Texans are two times more likely to die from pregnancy complications, and that ultimately, state structures like the Texas Maternal Mortality Morbidity Review Committee are refusing to investigate the deaths that are caused by its own laws. When we’re thinking about the criminalization of pregnancy care, it is the fear and the stigma that’s created by an abortion ban, but it’s also the way that these bans and the misinformation that comes from them create stigma and shame and make it so that seeking abortion care is morally criminalized in society.
We want to hear folks share their abortion stories and support folks through both the joy and the reality of terminating a pregnancy. So when I think about the beginnings of my organizing career, thinking about capital punishment and the way that these structures and laws across the state do not allow people to thrive or to live in a dignified way, those two things have an intersection there. Houston, at this time, is one of the most dangerous places for Black pregnant people to give birth, and so that intersection is not only about what is happening, but who it is happening to. And ultimately, though abortion bans affect all of us, the likelihood of who’s being criminalized, who’s being surveilled, and where stigma and shame live is at those points of intersection, those race, class, and gender intersections.
Aarohi Sheth is an abolitionist, essayist, storyteller, editor, and poet from Houston. They currently serve as Scalawag’s fact checker and Hurricane Season editor. Aarohi writes about grief in all its forms, bayou communities, humidity, radical (re)imagination, the family as a horror, and more.
raven e. Freeborn (they/them) is a full-spectrum doula, licensed social worker, and the executive director of Avow Texas. Freeborn’s work is driven by a steadfast dedication to community-led change, particularly for LGBTQ and BIPOC communities. They are deeply committed to addressing health disparities within historically marginalized populations.