For Black Women, the Economy and Reproductive Rights Are the Same Fight
New research and an interview with Regina Davis Moss reveal how rising costs, restrictive abortion laws, and policy failures are shaping the next phase of political strategy.
Regina Davis Moss, president and CEO of In Our Own Voice, is pictured (left) with Christina Baal-Owens of the National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum and Lupe M. Rodríguez of the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Justice at a 2026 Intersections of Our Lives reception. (Photo credit: Stefan Agregado)
The numbers are stark, but they are not surprising.
Nearly nine in ten women of color say they are worried about affording basic needs. That statistic alone tells a story about the country’s economic reality. But beneath it lies something deeper—something structural. For Black women in particular, the ability to plan a family, access healthcare, and participate fully in civic life is increasingly constrained by forces that extend well beyond any single issue.
In an interview following the release of a new report on the priorities of women of color voters, Regina Davis Moss framed the problem in terms that cut through the usual political abstractions. Economic stability, she explained, is not separate from reproductive decision-making. It is the foundation of it.
“So that would be one of the major reasons that we advocate for reproductive justice,” Davis Moss said.
When nearly 90 percent of respondents say rising costs are shaping every major decision they make, that includes whether to have children, when to seek medical care, and how to navigate daily life. The tradeoffs are constant. Making money last to the end of the month becomes the central calculation around which everything else revolves.
The emotional toll follows naturally. The report found high levels of frustration and exhaustion among Black women, but Moss pointed to something more specific driving that strain: a persistent sense of being unheard. Communities see harm unfolding in real time—under-resourced neighborhoods, shrinking access to care, and policies that fail to reflect lived realities—while the political system offers little in return.
Black women, she noted, continue to be one of the most reliable voting blocs in the country. They understand how state and local decisions shape their lives. But participation has not translated into responsiveness. The gap between engagement and representation has become one of the defining tensions of the current political moment.
“We oftentimes show up for them and don’t see a thing,” Davis Moss said.
That tension is perhaps most visible in the way economic pressure reshapes life decisions. Delaying a family is only one piece of it. The ripple effects extend outward—to decisions about healthcare, physical well-being, and even basic safety. For women working multiple jobs or living in communities where resources are scarce, something as simple as maintaining a health regimen can become difficult. Even the ability to move freely outdoors can be constrained by surveillance, immigration enforcement concerns, or unsafe conditions.
This is where the framework of reproductive justice, as Moss describes it, expands beyond the narrow confines of the abortion debate. It is not simply about legality. It is about whether the conditions exist for people to live stable, healthy lives and make meaningful choices about their futures.
In states where abortion is restricted, those conditions are deteriorating.
Moss described a landscape shaped not by accident, but by design. Black women of childbearing age are disproportionately concentrated in the South, where restrictive abortion laws, gaps in healthcare access, and reliance on Medicaid intersect. These overlapping policies create what she characterized as a system of compounded barriers—one that contributes directly to the ongoing Black maternal health crisis.
The consequences are visible in both data and lived experience. In some states, abortion is criminalized at all stages of pregnancy. In others, early gestational bans take effect before many people even know they are pregnant. The result is a climate of fear and uncertainty, where women delay seeking care—even in emergencies—because of potential legal consequences.
At the same time, Medicaid remains under constant political pressure, despite covering a significant share of Black births. The erosion of that safety net threatens to deepen existing disparities. For many women, the question is no longer just whether care is available, but whether it is safe to pursue it at all.
And yet, despite declining trust in institutions, the belief in voting as a tool for change persists.
Moss emphasized that this is not a contradiction so much as a reflection of history. Black women have long understood the importance of political participation, even when the system has failed them. The right to vote was hard-won, and it remains one of the few mechanisms through which accountability can be pursued.
That belief is shaping strategy heading into the next election cycles.
Reproductive justice, she argued, has emerged as a unifying framework—one that connects economic concerns, healthcare access, and personal autonomy. Organizations on the ground are focusing on voter education, coalition-building across states, and ensuring that candidates address the full scope of issues affecting Black women’s lives.
The message is clear: cost of living, healthcare access, and reproductive autonomy are not separate policy areas. They are interconnected realities that demand comprehensive solutions.
What would success look like?
According to Moss, it would require a policy approach that recognizes the full complexity of people’s lives. Not piecemeal reforms, but a coordinated effort to address economic stability, healthcare access, and civil rights together. Her organization has outlined a sweeping set of recommendations—more than a hundred policy proposals designed to reverse current trends and build a more equitable system.
The underlying argument is straightforward. Black women, she said, often function as an early indicator of systemic failure. When conditions worsen for them, it reflects broader dysfunction across society. But the inverse is also true: when their conditions improve, the benefits extend outward.
Healthy communities, stable families, and a functioning democracy are not separate outcomes. They are linked.
The report makes clear that the current trajectory is unsustainable. Rising costs, restricted rights, and declining trust are converging at a moment when political participation remains high but expectations are unmet.
The next few election cycles will test whether that participation can be translated into policy that reflects reality—or whether the gap between the two will continue to widen.
“It’s a comprehensive policy that recommend recognizes all the various ways in which all the resources and all the opportunities and all the rights that need to be affirmed and respected so that we can thrive,” Davis Moss said. “We often say that black women are the canary in the coal mine, and we’re often the harbinger of what’s broken in our system. And so at the same time, on the same side of that coin, is that when we do better, everyone benefits.”
Want to understand how we got here?
My new book, Given No Choice: A History of Abortion Rights, traces the long arc of reproductive justice in America—well beyond the courtroom battles most people recognize. It tells the story of the women who built the movement from the ground up, often without recognition, and in the face of overwhelming opposition.
Figures like Dázon Dixon Diallo, Loretta Ross, and Bylle Avery helped redefine the conversation—expanding it from a narrow focus on legality to a broader demand for dignity, autonomy, and the conditions necessary to live and thrive. Their work laid the foundation for the very framework shaping today’s debates.
If you want to understand why the fight over reproductive rights is also a fight over economics, healthcare, and democracy itself, Given No Choice provides that history—and the context for what comes next.