That Abortion Pill Ruling

Hi Meteor readers,

This is my confession: the other night, I stayed up until 3:30 a.m. to witness NYC workers use two giant cranes to erect a $32 million, Italian-steel pedestrian bridge outside my apartment. Infrastructure, it’s amazing! It’s expensive! I really wish someone would fund my local library!

Anyway! Today we’ve got Rebecca Carroll in conversation with author Glynnis MacNicol on her new book. Plus: The Supreme Court rules unanimously that mifepristone access is safe—at least until the next villain comes along with a better argument.

Keep on movin’ dont stop no,

Julianne Escobedo Shepherd

WHAT'S GOING ON

Mifepristone prevails! For now!: The Supreme Court, in a unanimous decision, dismissed a suit challenging access to mifepristone for medication abortion. Sixty-three percent of abortions are administered by medication, a number that increased after SCOTUS overturned Roe v. Wade. The ruling means that, for now, mifepristone is still accessible by mail everywhere (including in states where abortion is banned; it just carries legal risk there).

The suit, brought by the right-wing Alliance for Hippocratic Medicine and represented by attorney Erin Morrow Hawley—Sen. Josh “Jan. 6" Hawley's spouse—tried to argue that mifepristone shouldn't be accessible by mail, and that the FDA shouldn’t have ruled the drug safe for abortion because it put patients at risk, an assertion that is patently untrue. During oral arguments, SCOTUS expressed skepticism as to whether the plaintiffs had legal standing, and as expected, today’s opinions, written by Justices Kavanaugh and Thomas, speak to this. Which is to say, it’s a rare win, but one with an asterisk: Kavanaugh basically provided a roadmap for future suits, writing that because the plaintiffs “do not prescribe or use mifepristone, plaintiffs are unregulated parties who seek to challenge FDA's regulation of others." That’s basically an anti-abortion bat signal—he’s essentially asking for a suit from plaintiffs who do prescribe or use mifepristone.

But! There are a few cases in mifepristone’s favor currently weaving through the legal system: in Bryant v. Stein, a University of North Carolina doctor is suing that state for its restrictions on mifepristone, and GenBioPro Inc., v. Sorsaia is a similar suit in West Virginia. And in Washington et al v. FDA, the Attorneys General of 17 states plus the District of Columbia argue that the FDA has too many restrictions on mifepristone, challenging the rules that say the drug can only be provided by certified doctors and pharmacies. Controversial opinion: I agree and make it free.

AND:

  • The Southern Baptist Convention is currently on its own little rampage to restrict everyone else’s bodies. While its vote Wednesday to ban women pastors from its churches failed, the convention voted to oppose IVF under the logic that frozen embryos are people—and also issued a guidance for Baptists to pressure the government to ban it, too. Even more disturbing was SBC seminary president Albert Mohler Jr.’s vile justification that IVF is the “alienation of reproduction in the conjugal setting,” and that LGBTQ people “exploit” IVF—which is to say, Al Mohler, a freak weirdo who also believes the earth is only 6000 years old and that doing yoga is anti-Christian, wants to keep queer people from being able to have children. In related news, young women are leaving the church in record numbers. Wonder if these things are connected, or?
  • The U.S. Senate, for its part, is voting today on The Right to IVF Act, a Democrat-sponsored bill which would guarantee access to fertility treatments. It won’t pass, but—as with last week’s birth control debate— now we’ll know where our public servants stand.
  • Hundreds of law enforcement officers have been caught sexually exploiting and abusing children whom they met on the job, according to a devastating, yearlong investigation by the Washington Post. Yet many of the perpetrators identified by the Post have gone scot free, with almost 40 percent avoiding prison time—and over half of those who were sentenced to prison receiving five years or less. A reminder here that police were never defunded—in fact, across America, police were funded even more.
  • Rep. Ayanna Pressley said what we’re all thinking about Justice Alito.
  • Bridgerton’s Penelope Featherington (played by Nicola Coughlan, our Irish queen) went full nude and gently lost her virginity, in what fans say is the best sex scene of the series. Shonda Rhimes does it again!
  • In celebration of Father’s Day this weekend, we revisit a conversation from Free Future 2023 with beauty influencer Cyrus Veyssi who, together with their dad, is showing queer youth the possibility of a loving and accepting future.

https://vimeo.com/870324938/184fbfa78f?share=copy

OUR PLEASURE DOES NOT BELONG TO THE PATRIARCHY

 

BY REBECCA CARROLL

Author Glynnis MacNicol rejects the idea that feeling good is a frivolous pursuit

I recently decided that I’ve aged out of doing anything that doesn’t bring me some kind of pleasure, so Glynnis MacNicol’s new memoir, I’m Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself: A Woman’s Pursuit of Pleasure in Paris, might as well have been written for me, and me alone. MacNicol is single, and has written (and defended herself) extensively about this fact throughout her career (it was the subject of her first memoir, No One Tells You This). But even if you’re not single, there is something so immediately relatable, and deeply satisfying, about a woman choosing to feel good on her own terms. MacNicol, who is now 49, does that and then some with I’m Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself, which reads like an exquisitely unsupervised joyride through a sex-filled summer, with gooey cheese and good girlfriends set against the backdrop of a Parisian sky.

Rebecca Carroll: If you Google the word pleasure, which I did, the framework is invariably related to eroticism, sex, indulgence, and guilt. Beyond the patriarchy, why do you think that continues to be the narrow framework for pleasure?

Glynnis MacNicol: What I was trying to capture in this book is that the sources of pleasure for me at this age are so varied. My friendships bring me enormous pleasure. Sometimes, I think my bike is the love of my life—the movement and agency, and the idea I can get myself somewhere is pleasure. The idea of supporting myself as a writer brings me enormous pleasure. I don’t know how you can separate [any of] it from the patriarchy, though. Sarah Schulman wrote a piece in The New Republic after Roe was overturned, where she said that men have been determining the representation of women in story and structure for so long that women have internalized it to the point where we don’t understand our story outside of it—we don’t have any language around [our own representation] as being worthy of access. Even understanding that the sex in this book, and there is plenty of sex in this book, is what will likely end up selling it [to a broader audience], is connected to the patriarchy. Because when men think about women’s pleasure, they think, “Oh, she’s naked and having sex.”

I have to ask, because we are in this era of Ozempic—there’s this strange, oxymoronic thing about it, which is that here is a medication that will shut down your desire to eat, so that you can arrive at a place where your body is worthy of pleasure. What are your thoughts?

Wild, right? But whose pleasure is it now worthy of? Not your own. This book was written before the Ozempic era, and so there was none of that framework in terms of this medication that is [maybe] about restricting pleasure. I do feel like the way [Ozempic] is being used is reflective of how well-trained we are to think of our bodies as a source of pleasure for other people, and not for ourselves. But I recognize that there are very real health concerns at play. And I have not moved around the world in a fat body—I don’t experience the bias that comes with that. And I recognize the power of the pleasure you could experience by having a world that, even if you disagree with its value system, finds you valuable if you’ve only ever been punished by it.

What do you feel like you learned about pleasure through writing this book that you didn't know before?

That it’s serious. That it’s not a frivolous pursuit. If we want to talk about rethinking power structures, pleasure is as valuable a place to start as anywhere. The degree to which capitalism is based on [women] feeling like there’s something wrong with [us] that needs fixing is enormous. And in this moment, where women are losing access to abortion care, the move to rescind no-fault divorce laws portends to a future where women have less ability to control their own finances and ability to move freely, what begins to consume us is shrinking our bodies. And so a woman enjoying her own body feels very dangerous. There’s a fearlessness and a sense of power that comes in the ability to take pleasure in yourself.

 

Rebecca Carroll is a writer, cultural critic, and podcast creator/host. Her writing has been published widely, and she is the author of several books, including her recent memoir, Surviving the White Gaze. Rebecca is Editor at Large for The Meteor.

 

WEEKEND READING 📚

  • On obsession: Do you know or have kids who cannot even talk yet, but are obsessed with the psychedelic babyscape that is CocoMelon? Jia Tolentino went down the neon rabbit hole. (The New Yorker)
  • On sanctuary: Aude Konan wrote about the hope for Côte d’Ivoire as a safe haven for LGBTQIA+ people in West Africa. (Africa is a Country)
  • On creativity: If you, too, are obsessed with the work of Julio Torres, don’t miss Cat Cardenas’s profile (or Torres's kaleidoscopic new TV show, Fantasmas). (De Los)

 


"There Is No Triage"

Gaza's healthcare system on the brink ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌


SCOTUS Girl Summer

It’s going to be a big month of Supreme decisions. Here’s what to expect.

BY JULIANNE ESCOBEDO SHEPHERD

As Earth barrels into what looks to be another record-setting hot summer, certain U.S. Supreme Court Justices will be presumably enjoying the July-October recess at their beach houses, on luxury yachts, in a pile of dollar bills, and the like. But before the court breaks in about a month, it will be handing down decisions on abortion access, gun laws, social media, and more. So what we're saying is, bust out the fans, sunscreen, and comfortable marching shoes, because it might be another scorching SCOTUS girl summer in these streets.

Let’s take a look at a few of the most important rulings that will come down from SCOTUS—and one that already has.

THE RACIAL GERRYMANDERING CASE

Remember this when Republicans post MLK Jr. quotes on social media.

Here’s a decision we don’t have to guess about: The court has already handed down one discriminatory, landscape-altering decision in the form of Alexander v. South Carolina NAACP, or the racial gerrymandering case, in which SCOTUS approved a South Carolina voting map that shut out a large portion of the Black population from its district—basically stripping away Black South Carolinians' voting power. (For a great history of gerrymandering, a wonky word that obscures how much real damage it does to everything from abortion rights to racial justice—The Meteor's SOL has a terrific explainer for you.) 

The decision makes it much easier for any state to redraw voting maps based on racial lines. Not only do these maps benefit white voters above everyone else (and Republicans, since Black voters are more likely to vote Democrat), they are part of a larger effort by extremists to undo voting rights gains made during the Civil Rights Movement. That effort includes big, sweeping devastations, like the gutting of the Voting Rights Act in 2013, and smaller, state-level tremors, such as the Kansas Supreme Court's anti-American ruling last week that voting isn't a fundamental right. This SCOTUS ruling didn’t get the press attention it deserved, but it’s a big, big deal. 

What lovely lighting. (via Getty Images)

 

THE TWO ABORTION CASES

As if Dobbs wasn't enough!

Coming down shortly from SCOTUS: decisions in two cases that have to do with how—and whether—Americans should be allowed to access the basic medical procedure that is abortion. The first, FDA v. Alliance for Hippocratic Medicine, was brought by a group of anti-abortion doctors who charge that mifepristone, a progesterone blocker used in medication abortion, shouldn't be accessible by mail. (Here I must stop to observe the irony of a group of people who want to prevent patients from receiving care calling their practice “Hippocratic.” Also, Hippocrates doled out abortion recipes! But I digress.) The FDA approved mifepristone for abortion purposes in the year 2000 after rigorous testing; the Alliance is using junk science to falsely assert, decades later, that the drug puts patients at risk. Were SCOTUS to side with the Alliance, it would hamper abortion care for millions of women across the U.S.—medication is the most common method of abortion—not to mention kneecap the FDA's ability to approve any drug in the future. Fortunately, this case is expected to go in the favor of the FDA; during oral arguments, a majority of the justices seemed to think the Alliance didn't have the grounds. 

In Idaho v. U.S., the potato state wants to be allowed to imprison doctors and other medical professionals who perform abortions, including in life-threatening cases, unless the pregnant person is literally on their deathbed. That extremist position is in violation of the Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act (EMTALA), which requires Medicare-funded hospitals to administer treatment to anyone who requires emergency care. (Forgot what EMTALA is, exactly? We’ve got another explainer.) The U.S. sued Idaho shortly before its law took effect, and now here we are, begging nine unelected officials to let people live their lives. (Or, as the ACLU put it, “Supreme Court to decide whether politicians can deny emergency care to pregnant people.”) The conservative justices were hard to read during oral arguments, but The Nation's Elie Mystal thinks it's not looking good for U.S. (and us).

 

THE DOMESTIC ABUSERS WITH GUNS CASE

Seems like they shouldn’t have them? But I’m just one lady with a brain.

In 2019, a 23-year-old Texas man named Zackey Rahimi was seen dragging the mother of his child across a parking lot, banging her head on the dash as he threw her into his car. When he realized there was a witness, Rahimi fired a gun at that person—resulting in a civil protective order that barred him from owning a gun and a restraining order to protect his former partner. Then after he was arrested for violating the restraining order, using a gun to threaten yet another woman, and shooting a gun five separate times in unrelated incidents, the state banned him from having guns under a statute that says, logically, that domestic abuse suspects should not have guns.

But after SCOTUS overturned a New York gun law that required a license to carry a concealed weapon, Rahimi sued and claimed that the domestic abuse law preventing him from having a gun is unconstitutional. (*silent scream*) And now gun stans are hoping that the court will loosen the country's extremely loose gun requirements even further. “If we’re just going to go back to the time in which the Second Amendment was written, that’s terrifying," Krista del Gallo, legislative director for the Texas Council on Family Violence, told the Texas Tribune. "It’s also—I’ll use this term—offensive. It’s offensive to women and children, who were the property of their husbands at the time; it’s offensive to Black people, [who] were not fully citizens at the time. There’s just so much there.”

 

THE UNHOUSED-PEOPLE CAMPING CASE

Is public land too public? 

Another case coming down the pike goes after some of the most vulnerable among us: Grants Pass v. Johnson is a case in which the small city of Grants Pass, Oregon, wants to continue to arrest and fine unhoused people for sleeping outside. (Maybe this country should invest in housing for all?) The Ninth Circuit affirmed that doing so constituted “cruel and unusual punishment” in violation of the Eighth Amendment's imprisonment regulations, but the city continues to argue otherwise. Now we're about to see yet another test of this court's capacity for compassion with a ruling that will affect the unhoused in every state in America. 

Closed to common sense or just to the public? (via Getty Images)

 

OH—DID YOU THINK WE FORGOT ABOUT JANUARY 6?

In addition to the aforementioned nail-biters, there are also a few cases that go to the heart of what our democracy even is—and what it might become. They raise questions like: 

If all of this happens to rile you up, there are steps you can take that don't involve magically animorphing into President Biden and pushing Congress to expand the courts. (But wouldn't it be nice?)

  • Demand Justice, which recently projected an upside-down flag on the Supreme Court building in a sly protest of Alito's (wife's) (allegedly) own upside-down flag, has a number of ways to get involved with their movement, including donating and joining their rapid response team.
  • If you happen to be an attorney or law student—or even if you don't—you can join the Peoples' Parity Project, which has many chapters at colleges and in cities across the country. (You can also donate or pick up some pretty cool merch.)
  • Fix the Court could use your donation, too, for their big ideas and a roster of several, small but mighty ways SCOTUS could become, in Peoples' Parity Project's words, "unfucked." 

See you out there. 🌞

 

 

Julianne Escobedo Shepherd is a writer, culture critic, and editor in NYC. Her first book, Vaquera, about growing up in Wyoming and the myth of the American West, is forthcoming for Penguin.


Can the GOP Identify an IUD?

 

Plus: Prentis Hemphill on collective grief ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌


“What We Do in the Streets Is a Way of Grieving”

On the fourth anniversary of the Black Lives Matter uprisings, author Prentis Hemphill offers a new way of looking at things, and what's next.

BY REBECCA CARROLL

Four years after George Floyd’s murder, I realized that I simply do not have it in me to write another piece about Black pain, patterns and cycles of violent racism, and the endless trauma that continues to course through our bodies and bloodlines. I’ve literally written hundreds of them. I’m tired. And it feels like nothing ever changes. 

But years ago, I asked the late civil rights activist Julian Bond how he managed to stay hopeful in the face of what often feels like little progress. He said, “There are enough victories to keep hope alive, and that’s what activism is.” And so I keep looking for the victories, which lately has meant having conversations with folks, particularly younger folks, who are deep in the work with fresh eyes, bright minds, and open hearts. Prentis Hemphill is one of those folks, one who, right on time, has a new book out called What it Takes to Heal: How Transforming Ourselves Can Change the World. The author, therapist, and organizer spoke with me about the power of collective grief, finding the small openings of possibility, and the necessity of visual longing.     

Rebecca Carroll: Your book begins, “When Trayvon Martin was killed, I had just started working at a community mental health clinic in Los Angeles, one of three Black therapists on a staff of nearly fifty.” How do you hold the grace to write about the fact of yet another Black body being killed?

Prentis Hemphill: The only way is by being in community that can feel, and grieve, and strategize, and celebrate. That’s the only thing that actually sustains me. I can only face things because I’m held, and because I’m also holding. Every time someone in our community is killed in this way, it reverberates. We have memories of people in our communities that were killed that way, people in our families that were killed that way. The ongoing violence against Black people, it reverberates through all of our grief and all of our pain. Even though we as a people have made it this far because we reach for each other, I think we also try to—and have to—shoulder more than is ours to bear. 

I was just having a conversation with a dear friend and organizer, Malkia Devich-Cyril, about how our grief has been criminalized and that part of what we do in the streets is a way of grieving. But because of what is projected onto us as Black people, our actions are never read as grief rituals; they are often labeled as violent, disruptive, inconvenient. 

By “what we do in the streets,” I take that to mean being collectively loud, actively creating movement culture, and just being Black—does it matter whether we know that we are simultaneously grieving?

Protestors in the summer of 2020 marching through New York City. (via Getty Images)

That’s a great question. Having been at a lot of protests and on the ground in so many different places over the last 15 years, I think a lot of people know that their grief is present. But there’s the connective piece—the collectivizing of the experience of “I feel this pain”—that we don’t talk about. We know it’s our grief, but we also narrow it, because that’s what we’ve had to do to get by. I am interested in starting to unlock how [our grief] can be bigger, because that’s the truth of what we’re holding.

You wrote about not being able to know how Harriet Tubman learned to trust her dreams. How did you learn to trust your dreams?

I always felt entitled to my life, to an authentic life. I always felt like, if God made me, then I’m all right. I can see the way that human beings create rankings and structures to take you away from the truth of it all, but there was always something in me that wasn’t confused. I would like to say I was just born with that, but I can feel my grandmother in it, I can feel my great-grandmother in it—[this notion] that the world is telling one story, and I feel something truer. I think it means a lonely path for a lot of people who refuse to dim their light. Sometimes, we have to dim our lights for the sake of safety, but for the most part, I cultivate that light in me. I think life wants to express itself.

There’s this one really striking line from the book: “It’s hard to heal when you're still being hurt.” How do we lead our way through healing while we’re still being hurt in all ways?

When we get hurt or experience trauma, when we don’t have space to process it, some part of us gets locked in that moment, and we’re replaying and responding to it all the time. When I work with people, [what makes a difference is] the recognition that in each moment, there is a choice. It may not be an ideal choice, but when our stories hold us captive, we’re no longer able to perceive the choices in this moment. It’s the work of finding the very small openings where something else might be possible. That’s a part of healing. That’s what Harriet Tubman was able to do. She was like, “You have me in this world, but now, I can see that there’s a little opening here. I can see a friend here. I can see a path here.” 

It feels like we’re talking about trauma on a national level in ways that we haven’t before—what do you think is on the other side of that conversation?

I’m curious about trauma as a human phenomenon—and knowing this, how then do we structure our societies, our communities? What would we do if we knew that healing was important? I bet we would construct the world in a different way, and it wouldn’t be based as much on exploitative and violent tendencies which we’ve normalized at this point. I’d rather we normalize something else.

In the book, you wrote that visions are rooted in longing—can you say more about that?

I’m not a real churchy person, but “faith without works is dead” is something my grandmother would say all the time. We get sold visions for our lives, sold visions for who we are supposed to be. It’s necessary for us to reactivate that kind of looking around that, again, Harriet Tubman was able to do—looking through the cracks, looking underneath, and activating our own strangeness. No matter what happens tomorrow, we are facing compounding, complex crises. I hope that [my book] is a tool, something that accompanies people through the changes and challenges I think we're all facing.

My name is Prentis, which means student. I feel like my role is to tenderly offer the questions that I feel need to be posed in this moment. I don’t position myself as an authority. I position myself as someone who is learning, someone whose role in community is to pose questions—and to keep us close as we try to answer them.


"They Don't Look at Us as Human Beings"

Lead plaintiff Amanda Zurawski on the Texas Supreme Court’s decision to uphold a ban that almost killed her—and why she’s planning to run for office herself

BY CINDI LEIVE

We’ve grown accustomed to courts acting coldly, but last Friday’s Texas Supreme Court decision seemed especially and brutally devoid of compassion. In Zurawski v. State of Texas, the court had heard from 20 women who had been denied abortion care when experiencing pregnancy complications—women who had hemorrhaged, been forced to carry babies without skulls, and nearly died. And yet, the justices still ruled not to change or amend Texas’s abortion ban, which has forced doctors to deny patients vital medical care out of fear of prosecution. (What this says about the state’s regard for the vastly greater number of people who need abortions for less “medically necessary” reasons—such as, you know, not wanting to be pregnant anymore—is a story for another time.)

Over the weekend, I called Amanda Zurawski, the woman who lent her name—and the last year and a half of her life—to the lawsuit. I first met Amanda in the fall of 2022 when a doctor whispered to one of my Meteor colleagues that there was a woman in Austin who’d been through hell and might be willing to share her story. She did, detailing her harrowing experience for the world, but then went on to do much more, testifying before Congress, speaking up for other patients—and taking on her own state’s government. 

Cindi Leive: This decision felt like a punch in the face to so many women—but for those of you who testified, and your families, it was so personal. What measure of justice were you and [your husband] Josh expecting? How much was this a surprise to you?

Amanda Zurawski: It wasn't a huge surprise because we know that the Texas Supreme Court is full of conservative Republicans—[all] nine of [the justices] are conservative Republicans. And then, after the ruling in the Kate Cox case [in which the court denied the December 2023 abortion request of a Texas woman whose fetus had no chance of survival], that was a signal of how our case was going to go. So we had time to prepare for a loss.

What we weren't expecting, and what we were really surprised by, was the way that they wrote the decision—that they literally wrote out most of the plaintiffs by not even using their name. [Only three patients and two doctors were referred to by name in the ruling.] And that felt unnecessarily cruel and offensive…To me, it means they don't care about us and they don't look at us as human beings. They don't care about our trauma, our grief, our loss. They don't want to acknowledge us. Because as long as they can ignore us and pretend like we don't exist—just like my Senators [Ted Cruz and John Cornyn] did when I testified in front of Congress—they can pretend like the problem isn't real.

We did a press call right after the ruling came out, and there were 11 plaintiffs that could join. And seeing their faces and hearing their voices and how heartbroken they were—that was really gutting.

(L-R) CRR Senior Staff Attorney Molly Duane, plaintiffs Lauren Hall, Amanda Zurawski, Anna Zargarian, Lauren Miller, and CRR President & CEO Nancy Northup at the Texas State Capitol (Photo by Rick Kern/Getty Images for the Center for Reproductive Rights )

You said that that was the hardest part for you. Why?

I want to acknowledge my name was used in the Supreme Court's decision. They did acknowledge what happened to me personally, and they didn't for anyone else. And that feels very unfair and very unjust. And I also feel a little bit like…people were counting on me, I think, because I was the first one to file, because it was my name on the suit…I do feel a little bit like people were depending on me, and I feel a little bit like I let them down.

You said on Friday, “We will continue to fight.” Tell me how. 

Well, I don't think our lawsuit can do much more. People keep asking me if it's going to go to the U.S. Supreme Court, and I want to make it very clear that…likely, this is the end. But we can keep fighting in other ways. Personally, I will continue to campaign to get people to vote for pro-choice candidates. We can continue to share our own stories and to share other people's stories. We can donate our time and our money to abortion providers and organizations.

And did you say that some of the Texas Supreme Court justices are up for reelection?

Yes! There are three up for reelection [Jimmy Blacklock, John Devine, and Jane Bland]. I think we know now very clearly how they feel about…a woman's right to choose, so I'm really hoping that we can get the word out before November and not get them reelected. It feels really good to be able to say that so clearly, because for a year and a half I couldn't, because we had an ongoing lawsuit. [Now] I'm like, let's light some fires.

I’ve been thinking about what’s happened in Texas since you first filed your lawsuit. You were the first [plaintiff], and then there were five women, and then 20. And I don't know if you saw this thread, but just two weeks ago, Ryan Hamilton, a musician and DJ, tweeted that his wife, who had been pregnant with their second child, was denied abortion care in a very similar situation to yours. Despite the baby no longer having a heartbeat, she was repeatedly sent home. She lost so much blood that he found her unconscious on the bathroom floor. She almost died. This happened in Texas two weeks ago. How does it feel knowing that while the Supreme Court is making this decision, claiming that doctors are able to do the right thing [under existing Texas law], the number of women who have been exactly where you were continues to climb?

Ryan Hamilton sharing his wife's heartbreaking story (Screenshot via CBS News)

That story makes me sick to my stomach. And it's going to keep happening, because lawmakers aren't doing anything to fix it. It's infuriating that the Supreme Court of Texas had the opportunity to fix this—had the opportunity to make things better—and they did nothing. And when the Supreme Court says, “Doctors can practice medicine, this isn't a problem, the law is clear”—clearly that's not the case! Listen to our stories. Listen to what's happening to us. Listen to doctors. They refuse to hear us, and I don't know what it's going to take for them to wake up and realize that people are dying because of this. Or if they haven't yet, they're going to. 

There's an enormous amount of suffering happening in Texas and similar states, and they need to fix it. 

Three months ago, when the Alabama Supreme Court was deeming embryos people, you said that you worried that Texas was going to do the same, and that you were going to move your embryos out of state. The irony is incredible: You need IVF because the state's laws impacted your fertility, and now the state is making that path to having a family more difficult. How has that process felt? 

It was pretty upsetting, because moving embryos is, as you can imagine, incredibly complicated. It is very expensive. And from my understanding, things don't go wrong very often, but if they do, it's catastrophic—you lose your embryos. As we [were] going through it, I'm like, this is terrifying, because I feel like we're on a ticking clock, because Texas [could] make this decision [to criminalize IVF] any day. By the way, there now is a case about embryonic personhood that the Texas Supreme Court is deciding whether or not to hear…[and] depending on how they rule, it could do the exact same thing that happened in Alabama and threaten IVF access. Fortunately, our [embryos] are now safe, but if Trump is reelected, we're scared that it won't matter where your embryos are, because he'll institute national bans or laws that are going to affect their safety. It's just a really troubling, scary time right now to be trying to plan a family. 

Last question—what gives you hope right now? Is there anything?

You know, in our press call, my fellow plaintiff, Dr. Austin Dennard, said that she likes to think that people are good. And I agree with her. I think that most people at their core want to do the right thing. And when we're speaking out about what happened to us, we do see a lot of goodness in most people. And I see the people who are fighting in their communities. I see people who are running for office because they're trying to protect women. And I think there's a lot to be hopeful about. I do think we're going to fix this. It's going to take a lot of work, but we can do it.

You mentioned women running for office. I can't get off the phone without asking you the same question that America Ferrera asked you onstage at our event a year and a half ago. Any further thoughts about you running for office? 

Oh, yeah… That is probably going to happen. I've started trying to figure out what office might be a good fit for me. I’ve talked to a lot of different organizations; I’ve talked to a lot of different individuals. I think the next step would be fundraising. But Zurawski ‘26 is probably something you’ll see.

 Zurawski 2026. Amazing. We’ll leave it there.

 

The plaintiffs in the case are: Patients Amanda Zurawski, Lauren Miller, Lauren Hall, Anna Zargarian, Ashley Brandt, Kylie Beaton, Jessica Bernardo, Samantha Casiano, Austin Dennard, D.O., Taylor Edwards, Kiersten Hogan, Lauren Van Vleet, Elizabeth Weller, Kristen Anaya, Kaitlyn Kash, D. Aylen, Kimberly Manzano, Danielle Mathisen, M.D., Cristina Nuñez, and Amy Coronado; and health care providers Damla Karsan, M.D. and Judy Levison, M.D., M.P.H. Read their stories on Center for Reproductive Rights' site.

 


"Let's Light Some Fires"

 

Amanda Zurawski isn’t giving up ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌


Our First Felon President


Three Questions About Resilience

 

 


How to Outsmart a Corrupt SCOTUS

Justice Alito raises another red flag ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌