Mexican activists hope to prevent judicial elections to stave off antiabortion threats
Ninde MolRe, a member of Abortistas Mx, spoke to me about the state of affairs there
I’ve recently written about both African and English developments regarding abortion rights. Today's newsletter will continue the international lens, detailing a conversation I had with a Mexican activist helping to lead the fight to advance access throughout the country.
Ninde MolRe, a member of Abortistas Mx, a pro-choice group in the country, spoke to me about the country’s recent Supreme Court ruling that extended abortion rights as well as what they have to do culturally to reduce the stigma there.
“It's quite complicated right now,” MolRe said.
Mexico is a federation of states, with each having its legal code when it comes to abortion. Thirty-three of them criminalize abortion to some extent. In eleven, it’s partially decriminalized. In 2021, the Mexican Supreme Court disallowed any federal or local judicial authority to indict someone for the offense of voluntary or consensual abortion. This decision also made imposing penalties on medical personnel who facilitate or assist such procedures unconstitutional.
“It's the very first time that the Supreme Court interprets the Constitution and recognizes that reproductive rights are in our Constitution in Article Four,” MolRe said. “Since then, the states have been against this interpretation from the court.”
Article Four of the Mexican constitution states that the exercise of liberty shall only be forbidden by judicial order when the rights of third parties are infringed or by administrative order issued in the manner provided by law when the rights of society are violated. No one may be deprived of the fruits of his or her labor except by judicial decision.
As in the United States, the makeup of the Mexican Supreme Court matters a great deal in determining the state of reproductive rights in its country. Currently, eleven justices sit on the court. The Mexican president nominates three candidates for each opening, and the Senate chooses one of them. They remain there for 15 years.
Politicians in the country are at odds with the court over its rulings about the general policy they had hoped to enact. So they’ve pushed for elections of supreme court judges, which is something that MolRe and other activists think opens the door to get anti-choice judges swooping into those positions after riding a wave of antiabortion populism.
“We are worried because the Supreme Court has been an ally for the LGBT movement and abortion movement,” MolRe said. “So if the court changes just because the President wants the court to approve every action he or she does, that could be a danger in the future if the party in power changes.”
Another aspect of abortion rights I found fascinating was the network of acompañantes, which are people who help abortion-seekers get the care that they need. They provide reliable information to women who don’t have access to it in other media.
Prosecutions might occur after a woman goes to a hospital and is too late into the pregnancy after an illegal abortion. Criminalization starts after 12 weeks. Most of the abortions after that point are self-induced, usually through medication. When the police suspect them, the women can be charged with homicide or infanticide, which carries with it a minimum of 30 years in prison. MolRe and her organization are gathering information to see how common that is.
Religiously, the country is 78 percent Catholic, according to the government census. There’s also a growing evangelist movement. MolRe said the latter has led to some antiabortion sentiment, but much of it has to do with misconceptions about the procedure.
“People believe that their lives are at risk,” MolRe said. “So we are like fighting that.”
I attached a report MolRe sent me about the country’s situation. It’s in Spanish.
