“Narrative”-Lis Regula

As someone who works every day at the intersection of reproductive justice, LGBTQ+ equity, and community care through Ohio Equal Rights and Men Having Babies, I’ve learned that when we talk about “the fight for justice,” we’re too often talking around the experiences of Black women and gender-expansive people rather than centering them. And if we aren’t centering them, we are missing both the truth of the harm and the wisdom of the solutions. Black women and gender-expansive individuals in Ohio live at the crossroads of multiple, overlapping systems of oppression. The disparities are well documented: Ohio’s maternal mortality rate is unconscionably high, and Black women are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women. Access to OB-GYN care is shrinking across the state—24 counties now have none—and those care deserts disproportionately burden Black families in both urban and rural communities. Add in discriminatory treatment within healthcare systems, lack of paid leave, and punitive approaches to poverty, and you see a landscape where even “basic” healthcare becomes a battleground. At the same time, Black trans and gender-expansive people face the dual pressures of racism and transphobia, often encountering barriers to employment, housing, and life-saving gender-affirming care. Anti-trans legislation in Ohio intensifies this danger by policing autonomy and narrowing access to care, especially for youth. It’s impossible to separate these issues: reproductive justice and trans justice share the same root—control over one’s own body. And then there’s the political landscape. Ohio’s deeply gerrymandered districts dilute the voices of Black voters and the communities they anchor. When lawmakers ignore the 2023 constitutional amendment enshrining reproductive rights, they are telling Black women and gender-expansive people that even when they speak loudly through the democratic process, they will not be heard. Political disenfranchisement is not an abstraction; it is a direct assault on people who disproportionately bear the brunt of bad policy. Yet in spite of all this, Black women and gender-expansive leaders are the backbone of justice movements in Ohio. They lead mutual aid networks, anchor community health initiatives, build faith-based coalitions, organize voters, and nurture intergenerational resilience. They hold our communities together even as systems fail them. So the real question isn’t “How do we help them?” It’s: **How do we dismantle the conditions that require them to carry this burden in the first place?** Supporting Black women and gender-expansive people means shifting power, not just offering solidarity. It means funding Black-led organizations directly without strings attached. It means designing policy with them, not for them. It means investing in maternal health, expanding access to midwives and doulas, protecting gender-affirming care, ensuring paid leave, and building community-based safety nets. It means addressing economic justice and housing as part of reproductive justice. And it means defending direct democracy in Ohio so that Black voters—who have repeatedly pushed for a more just future—can shape policy without interference. Most importantly, it means listening. Not selectively, not symbolically, but continually, humbly, and with the understanding that liberation is only real when it includes everyone. Black women and gender-expansive people have been leading us toward justice for generations. It’s time we build the world they deserve—not just the one they’ve had to survive.