A deeper conversation about Black Women’s Pain, Power, and the Fight for Bodily Freedom
Adriana Smith never got to hold her baby.
At just 30 years old, the Georgia nurse collapsed in her home, nine weeks pregnant, suffering from a fatal brain clot. But because of her state’s abortion ban, Adriana was kept on life support not for herself, but for her fetus. Her family wasn’t given a real choice. For four months, her mother and eldest son watched her body be used as a vessel, waiting. Hoping. Praying. Not for a miracle, but for an ending that wouldn’t feel like a punishment.
When baby Chance was finally born just 1 lb. 13 oz. Adriana was unplugged from machines and laid to rest. “She was already gone. And the state made us keep watching,” her family said. Her story made headlines. But for many of us, it just hit home.
Black women are tired. Tired of being ignored. Tired of screaming in pain and being told we’re “strong enough to take it.” Tired of watching our bodies become battlegrounds for policies written by people who’ve never known our lives. It’s not just about childbirth. It’s about disrespect in the doctor’s office, dismissal in emergency rooms, and decades of being told we’re exaggerating when in reality, we’re dying.
Serena Williams nearly died after giving birth because doctors ignored her pleas about blood clots. Kira Johnson passed away just hours after delivering her son, despite telling nurses something was wrong. These are wealthy, educated women with access. Imagine the stories we don’t hear.
Black women are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women. Eighty percent of these deaths are preventable. Black patients’ pain is less likely to be treated with proper medication. Black women are more likely to be misdiagnosed with anxiety or dismissed altogether. Conditions like fibroids, endometriosis, and lupus are under-treated in Black women, often for years.
These stats aren’t new. They’ve been studied. Documented. Reported. So the question becomes: Why hasn’t it changed?
Let’s be clear: this is by design.
During and after Trump’s presidency, we saw a wave of policies that stripped away reproductive rights, defunded clinics, and gave states the power to override women’s personal decisions. Under laws like Georgia’s LIFE Act, Adriana Smith though brain-dead was still considered “alive” because of her pregnancy. That wasn’t about life. That was about control.
The same system that ignores our pain is the one that forces us to carry nonviable pregnancies, defunds the health clinics we rely on, underfunds Black communities, overpolices our neighborhoods, and limits how, when, and if we can vote. Our wombs are policed like our streets aggressively, unfairly, and without consent.
Adriana was a nurse. She knew how the system worked. She likely recognized the signs. But being Black and a woman in America doesn’t guarantee you’ll be heard. Her story felt like a mirror to many of us. How many of us have left a hospital crying from frustration? Been told “it’s probably just stress” when something felt seriously wrong? Delayed a check-up because we didn’t feel safe or seen? Had to choose between healthcare and survival?
Black women deserve more than survival. We deserve care. We deserve choice. We deserve respect.
So what now?
We can’t let this continue to happen. Here’s what needs to shift:
We must believe Black women. Our pain is real. Our experiences are valid.
We must fight for reproductive justice, not just rights. Access to care, birth control, doulas, abortions, education all of it matters.
We must demand accountability from hospitals, legislators, and medical schools. Bias training alone is not enough.
We must center Black voices. In policy rooms, in research, in media. We’ve always known what’s best for us.
We must support organizations like SisterSong, The Black Mamas Matter Alliance, Planned Parenthood (despite the political attacks), and local doulas, midwives, and Black-led wellness providers.
Adriana’s story isn’t just a tragic news clip. It’s a warning. Because the truth is, Black women in America still don’t have full control over our bodies or our futures. Whether through a hospital door or a piece of legislation, someone else is often making the decisions for us.
But we are rising. Organizing. Advocating. We are rewriting the rules not just for us, but for every generation that follows. Because enough is enough.
Let this be a tribute. To Adriana. To Kira. To all the women we’ve lost to silence and systems.
Let this be a call not to whisper, but to speak boldly. Because Black women’s pain is not invisible. It is undeniable.
And it’s time the world acted like it.
Kyrah Page is currently a student at Lincoln University. She is also the CEO and founder of her own brand called “Keepin’ It Kultured.” Where she combines art with activism to empower, inspire and educate the Black community. She advocates for change, promotes black positivity, and addresses controversial issues. Kyrah is many things but most importantly she is an activist.
