Why abortion rights play a role for me as a Latino man

I still remember exactly where I was when I read the news that Roe v. Wade turned Three years ago. I sat in my car with my partner, parked outside a grocery store in Los Angeles and browsed through my phone. The words felt heavy, like lead in the chest: the constitutional right to abortion is no longer protected in the United States. I looked around at my partner and the people who went in and out of the store and wondered how many of them felt what I felt – this declining insight that we had moved back.

First, I thought, Well, thankfully, I live in California. But that idea was quickly followed by the fact that this is not just about where I live. This is about us all. Because when reproductive rights are removed, it is always the most vulnerable that suffers the most. In this country it means women in color, Latin, immigrants, the poor and those who are already facing countless barriers to health care, autonomy and freedom.

Some maybe ask me: so why doesn’t it matter to you? You are a man. And to that I say: How couldn’t it?

My partner is a Latina woman. I want to build a family with her. And I want that family to exist in a world where she and all other women have the right to make choices about their own body. When a woman is forced to wear a pregnancy she does not want or cannot afford, the whole society suffers. Families are fighting. Economic future is traced. And a child brought into the world under these circumstances often faces a more difficult life.

So this conversation is about fundamental rights. Like most things in this country, abortion ban does not affect all women equally. They met Latinas and other women of color harder. Many Latinas are already struggling with limited access to healthcare, economic disadvantages and cultural stigma that makes it more difficult to apply for reproductive services. Now with 19 states Either prohibits abortion directly or limits it earlier than Roe v. Wade did, their alternatives are even more limited.

The struggle for reproductive justice for Latinas is not new. They have apart from, experimented and violated for generations. In the 1950s, Puerto rica women were used as test substances In early birth control pills, often without being told that they were part of an experiment. In the 1970s, Mexican American women in Los Angeles were sterilized Without their knowledge or consent, a horror exposed in Madrigal v. Quilligan case. The government has never protected Latin’s reproductive rights – it has controlled, manipulated and removed them systemically.

When the subject abortion comes up, I often think of a friend of mine, let’s call her ancestor. Ana grew up in a conservative Latin household where sex was never talked about, even less abortion. When she became pregnant at 19, she was terrified. She wasn’t ready. She had dreams of ending college and making a life for herself that did not revolve around fighting to survive. But because of where she lived – in a state where abortion access was already difficult – she had to jump through arches to get the care she needed. She had to lie to her parents, borrow money she did not have and travel across state lines just to gain access to a safe abortion. And she was lucky. Many others do not have the same resources or access.

And now, during an administration that is determined to harm anyone who is not a straight white cis queue, it has become even more difficult. More states are pressed to ban abortion; Politics is introduced that make it more difficult for women–especially Latin’s and undocumented women with lower income-to have access to secure abortions. This is not just a medical procedure; It is about controlling bodies, stories and future. It is about telling women, especially women in color, that they are not allowed to choose what is best for them.

Latino men must care about this. We must be in this struggle. Too often we leave these conversations to women as if this is just their burden to bear. But reproductive rights are human rights. And if we honestly believe in dignity, freedom, justice and choice, we, as my mother always tell me, must take action and speak up. We must speak for the health of society. We must challenge the cultural stigma in our communities that keep these discussions in the shadows. We must support policies that ensure safe and fair access to reproductive healthcare for everyone.

If we do not fight for abortion rights now, we risk losing even more. We risk allowing a whole generation of women to grow up with fewer rights than their mothers had. We risk letting the government continue to remove bodily autonomy and are aimed at the most vulnerable among us first. We risk allowing fear and control to dictate the future of our families and communities.

Abortion rights are now playing more than ever. And as Latino -Man, I refuse to be quiet.

Christopher Rivas Is the author of “Brown Enough”, an exploration of what it means to be brown in a black/white world. He also hosts two podcasts: “Brown Enough” and “Rubirosa.” On the screen, Christopher is known for his work on the Fox series “Call Me Kat”, opposite Mayim Bialik. His latest book, “You are a good swimmer,” is about the enchanting conception without gender conditions and including all family dynamics.