Wonderful Meteor readers,

Would it shock you to learn that Florida—land of Mickey Mouse and Ron DeSantis’s war on everyone who isn’t white or wealthy—has also become an unlikely abortion destination for pregnant people in the Deep South? It certainly shocked me.

In today’s newsletter, journalist Stassa Edwards writes about the women behind the abortion funds that have been aiding a “tidal wave” of patients who have been deeply affected by trigger-ban laws.

On a more personal note, if you or someone you know is living in a trigger-ban state and needs an abortion I urge you to reach out to your local abortion fund. As you’ll read in the following report, abortion funds can help you or your loved one find safe travel, accommodation, and access to proper medical care no matter where it may be. These resources can save a life.

With love,

Shannon Melero

A YEAR WITHOUT ROE

The Women on The Frontlines of Abortion Care in the Deep South

With Florida’s six-week abortion ban looming, advocates stay steadfast in their commitment to providing care.

BY STASSA EDWARDS

A WOMEN’S HEALTHCARE CLINIC IN NORTH MIAMI BEACH. (PHOTO BY JOSH RITCHIE VIA GETTY IMAGES) 

When the Dobbs v. Jackson decision dropped one year ago tomorrow, it had immediate impact on the lives of millions of people—particularly those in the South, where trigger laws swiftly went into effect in Kentucky and Louisiana, then Texas, Alabama, and Mississippi, abortion is now banned with few exceptions.

And with that, patients found themselves turning to an unlikely place: Florida.

In comparison to its Deep South counterparts, Florida currently has fewer hurdles to accessing care. As of publication, the state prohibits abortion after 15 weeks, a law that Governor Ron DeSantis signed in 2022; it also requires a 24-hour waiting period, thanks to a law that went into effect in 2022 after a seven year legal battle, as well as a parental notification and consent law for minors.

But despite those restrictions, abortion numbers in Florida have increased over the last year. Jessica Wannemacher, the health center manager at Jacksonville Planned Parenthood of South, East, and North Florida, said that her clinic has seen an increase in patients traveling from Georgia; she calls them “fearful” and “desperate.”

But her ability to welcome those patients may soon change. In April 2023, in an effort to double down on his anti-choice bonafides ahead of a presidential run, DeSantis signed a six-week ban into law. That ban is still working its way through the courts, but Florida’s conservative Supreme Court is expected to uphold it. And that would be disastrous for residents in the Deep South.

THE FLORIDIAN RESPONSE TO DESANTIS’S PRESIDENTIAL RUN. (PHOTO BY JASON KOERNER VIA GETTY IMAGES)

Ever since Dobbs, providers and funds in Florida have been serving what Wannemacher calls a “tidal wave” of abortion seekers from across the South. “Our numbers doubled and tripled,” she adds.

Planned Parenthood of South, East and North Florida health centers saw their patient numbers quadruple. That follows the national trend: Planned Parenthood centers in states where abortion is still accessible have seen a nearly 700% increase in out-of-state patients.

The influx of abortion seekers into a state already underserved has put an immense amount of financial pressure on abortion funds, which provide things like childcare, legal services, hotels, and transportation to a rapidly increasing number of patients.  “What we do has not changed, but the intensity and volume has changed,” says McKenna Kelly, a board member at the Tampa Bay Abortion Fund. The Tampa Bay Abortion Fund has already provided money to 1,300 people in 2023; in comparison: the fund aided 1,100 people in all of 2022. “We went from having no one coming into [Tampa Bay] to a few dozen a month,” Kelly said.

Immediately after the Dobbs decision, Kelly says the fund saw an increase in donations, including a portion of the $2 million raised by activist Olivia Julianna’s followers which allowed them to support the growing need. And while the fund has seen “bumps here and there,” especially after major news events, donations have steadily tapered off in the year after Dobbs, even as the need has increased.

Jessica Hatem of the Emergency Medical Assistant Abortion Fund (EMA) in Palm Beach County echoes Kelly. EMA has also seen demand and costs increase, and there is “definitely desperation,” Hatem says of the people who reach out. “In the beginning there was a lot of shock,” she says.  “If we weren’t here to fill these gaps, it would be so much harder for these individuals.”

Florida abortion funds like Tampa Bay and EMA have been working hard to get patients from out of state in—but they’ve also been working to get pregnant people who are past the 15-week mark out of Florida. And on that front, they’ve seen their options narrowing as more and more states pass increasingly punitive restrictions. Hatem said that EMA had been sending patients to North Carolina, but in May, that state’s Republican assembly overrode the governor’s veto and banned abortions after 12 weeks of pregnancy. (The law will go into effect July 1, 2023.) Even before that new legislation, North Carolina clinics had wait times of up to 10 days, so EMA had been sending patients to Washington, DC, New York, and Baltimore, where hotel rooms are significantly more expensive. (Hatem points out that she always books non-stop flights because many of the people EMA helps have never been on an airplane.)

“The six-week ban will be devastating,” Kelly says. At EMA, Hatem says, the fund will begin to prioritize Floridians who need to leave the state and no longer be able to aid out-of-state abortion seekers. “We will still be helping people leave the state,” she says. And “that’s going to be a huge amount of people.”

Despite the barriers, though, the women who spoke to The Meteor are hopeful and resilient, even in an increasingly hostile political environment. They plan to build bridges with providers and funds in other states; Planned Parenthood is quickly working to expand its patient navigation program, which helps coordinate care, including financial assistance. Hatem and Kelly said that they are both working with other funds and independent clinics in states where abortion is protected.

And they plan to keep showing  “true solidarity,” Hatem says. Her group, EMA, has a legacy of that: It was founded by Harriette Glasner, a Palm Beach resident who, as a young woman in the 1950s, survived an illegal abortion without anesthetic. The experience turned her into a crusader of sorts and she became a one-woman abortion fund, buying plane tickets for Florida abortion seekers long before Roe went into effect. “We are going to come out of this one way or the other,” Hatem says. “This is not where we’re landing. That’s what keeps me hopeful.”

Stassa Edwards is a writer and editor. Her bylines have appeared in Jezebel, Slate, Self, Aeon, and Lapham’s Quarterly.

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