When we first heard the news that the Supreme Court had overturned Roe v. Wade, we each had the same thought: This is going to be bad for women in Louisiana. Now, this year, we’ve spent the months leading up to the anniversary of this disastrous decision talking to those women in Louisiana—talking to them about the impact of the loss of abortion rights on their health, their education, their careers, and their lives. In having these discussions, what stands out is not only the chaos and cruelty overturning Roe unleashed on millions of Americans, but the growing determination of people everywhere to right this wrong.
There’s a lot to love about Louisiana. Kaitlyn was born and raised in Baton Rouge, where she’s now raising a family of her own. Cecile began her career as a labor organizer in New Orleans, a city that has felt like home ever since. But the vibrant culture and diverse communities the state is known for stand in stark contrast to the cruelty of far-right politicians who control the levers of power.
Cecile Richards, former president of Planned Parenthood, in May 2023.
Long before Roe was overturned, reproductive rights in Louisiana were precarious, especially for women of color. As of December 2020, Guttmacher, an organization that researches reproductive health and rights, considered Louisiana to be one of six states “very hostile” to abortion. Beyond the state laws designed to shame and scare abortion seekers and shutter clinics, people in Louisiana have known for generations that having a right on paper doesn’t mean much if the closest doctor is hundreds of miles away, or you can’t afford an appointment.
Ending the national right to abortion after 50 years set off a domino effect across the country, with Louisiana and more than a dozen other states passing total abortion bans. In a particularly hateful twist, Louisiana’s ban has no exceptions for survivors of rape and incest, and Republicans in the state legislature have blocked every effort to change this.
Over the last several months, we’ve listened as Louisiana doctors recounted stories of patients who were forced to undergo unnecessary cesareans or wait until they were so critically ill to receive care that they were at risk of organ failure. Earlier this year, hundreds of Louisiana doctors signed a letter imploring the state legislature not to criminalize possession of mifepristone and misoprostol, two medications used in abortion and miscarriage treatment. The bill was signed into law anyway.
Abortion bans like Louisiana’s are not only driving doctors out of hostile states—they’re having a chilling effect on a generation of medical providers. We’ve met with medical students whose dream was to practice in Louisiana, but who can’t imagine building a career in a state that prosecutes doctors for providing basic health care. “I came here to learn how to be an OB-GYN,” one student recounted earlier this spring. “Now I’m spending all this money for an education in a state where I can’t get the training I need.”
Some of the stories we’ve heard are heartbreaking and infuriating. We’ve heard stories of pregnant people forced to travel thousands of miles to another state to end a pregnancy that was incompatible with life. We’ve heard stories of people who were pregnant and didn’t want to be, but knew leaving the state for care was too expensive, too difficult, or otherwise out of reach.
Other stories are galvanizing, like the two Baptist preachers who shared that their faith calls them to advocate for reproductive freedom or the survivor of childhood sexual assault who becomes more determined to speak out after every effort to silence her. “Go ahead, come after me,” she tells trolls online. “I’ve already survived a lot worse.” We’ve heard grateful odes to abortion pills by mail, practical support from abortion funds, and advocacy organizations willing to fight for women in even the toughest circumstances. We’ve been energized by brainstorms with leaders on college campuses about how to spread the word about resources like Charley, a chatbot Cecile co-founded to provide confidential, trustworthy information online about abortion options in all 50 states. We’ve befriended leaders like Nancy Davis, who has turned a tragic personal experience into a rallying cry that is now echoing across the country. As she told us one day over beignets and coffee: “Some people find their calling, but my calling found me.”
Along the way, we’ve heard from people who have spoken out on behalf of abortion rights about how easy it is to feel alone in a state like Louisiana. But supporters of abortion rights are not the minority—they’re the majority. Record numbers of people across the country want abortion to be legal and oppose the overturning of Roe v. Wade. In fact, a poll conducted a year after Roe was overturned found that one in four Americans said state efforts to ban abortion had made them more supportive of abortion access.
What’s driving the increase in support? According to another recent poll, personal stories are breaking through, increasing understanding of the impact of abortion bans on people’s lives and changing minds. We hope that by lifting up the voices of people living in states with abortion bans, we can continue to build on that momentum—and that as brave people share their stories, others will come forward to add their voices to the chorus.
After all, we’ve seen it happen. A few months after Roe was overturned, Kaitlyn had a miscarriage. Scared, in pain, and bleeding through her jeans, she was turned away from not one, but two Baton Rouge emergency rooms. Doctors explained that while a procedure or abortion pills could help, because of the state’s abortion ban, they couldn’t treat her. She was left to manage a medical crisis on her own at home, while her husband cared for their toddler in the next room. It took weeks to pass the pregnancy.
That might have been the end of her story—except that, at the encouragement of her twin sister, a medical student, Kaitlyn shared her experience at a public meeting. Rosemary Westwood, a New Orleans-based reporter, was there and wrote about what happened. Soon, Kaitlyn’s story was national news—and her Instagram DMs were full of messages from other women across Louisiana, all variations on a theme: “You’re not alone. What happened to you happened to me.”
Two years since Roe was overturned, what’s true in Louisiana is true across the country: Supporters of reproductive freedom are anything but defeated. They’re passionate, committed, and growing in number every day. That sound you hear is a sleeping giant, and it’s beginning to roar.