What We Learned When We Stayed: What 50 Years of Care in the South Taught Us About Abortion and Trans Rights

We’ve been here before.

When Dobbs v. Jackson came for abortion care in our states, we did two things: We opened clinics across state lines so our patients would still have a legal option. And we stayed. We kept our original clinics open, expanding the care we’d always offered or always wanted to offer.

When U.S. v. Skrmetti came for gender-affirming care, we kept providing that too, because abortion care patients and transgender patients are not separate communities.

The calculation patients make before they walk through the door is identical for both communities: Will I be seen? Will I be safe? Will the person across from me treat my body with humanity, or like a problem to be managed?

June marks anniversaries of both Dobbs and Skrmetti, and that conviction has never felt more urgent. Long before these two cases, the intersection of abortion rights and trans rights was already living in our waiting rooms; in the patients who received reproductive care and gender-affirming hormone therapy under the same roof; in the person who drove hours across the state because we were the only provider they trusted; and in those who trust us with their whole-person care because their grandmothers, mothers, sisters, aunts and friends have relied on our clinics for care for 50 years.

Between our two organizations, we’ve earned a century’s worth of experience at the practice of staying and enduring. CHOICES has kept their doors open for 52 years, and the Women’s Health Centers of West Virginia and Maryland will celebrate 50 years of care on June 24—the same day Roe v. Wade was overturned four years ago.

Support independent clinics in hard places keeping the doors open. And when the next fight comes, show up for the communities under pressure. Remember that those targeted first won’t be the last, but they will be the ones to lead the way.

‘Protesters Spit on Us’: Why This Wisconsin Abortion Clinic Escort Won’t Back Down

Molly (last name withheld for privacy), a 35-year-old clinic escort, says they will not be deterred from helping patients get the care they need at a Milwaukee clinic that provides abortions.

Molly outlines the current landscape of threats facing providers, the history that informs this moment, and what is at stake when violence against reproductive healthcare workers is minimized or ignored.

“Being an abortion escort appealed to me because I would be able to interact with people who were coming to the clinic to receive an abortion and give them support. …

“Abortion clinic escorts are doing de-escalation with radicalized people, and we have no weapons. We are a unique group of people with strong de-escalation training. … When I train new escorts, I tell them the names of some of our regular protesters: ‘This is Joe. This is Sam.’ I think names hold a lot of power, and if you know someone’s name, it takes away some of the fear. …

“I tell new escorts to approach a car slowly. Sometimes people arrive early and want to sit and take a breath. Sometimes they have children with them and are getting situated. … Then as they walk into the clinic, stand between them and the people shouting on the sidewalk to act as a physical sound barrier.

“What’s kept me coming back to this work is the other clinic escorts, who are all passionate about reproductive rights. You make incredible friends and build strong bonds when you spend so much time together. I advise other escorts, especially new people, to practice self-care after a shift. It’s not normal to be yelled at for hours. We get called ‘harlots,’ ‘jezebels’ and ‘sinners,’ so I encourage decompression time. Everybody has their own post-clinic ritual for self-centering. … I usually come home and do some baking. …

“I think the protesters believe we escorts have very sad lives. But I get to go home to a happy, loving place and a freshly cooked meal with my husband and two dogs.”

Feminist Lessons From the 1980s: Why Every Movement Faces Backlash

The 1980s opened with a sense of uncertainty for feminists. Just years after the Supreme Court’s Roe v. Wade decision, the passage of Title IX and the near-ratification of the Equal Rights Amendment, Ronald Reagan swept into office backed by a newly energized religious right determined to reverse many of the gains women had won in the previous decade.

Across the country, antiabortion activists organized at the state level, the ERA’s ratification deadline expired, and conservative leaders framed feminism itself as a threat to American values. What had felt like a period of rapid progress in the 1970s suddenly gave way to a fierce political and cultural backlash.

The decade was marked by escalating attacks on reproductive freedom. Reagan expanded antiabortion policies, implemented the global gag rule and sought to further entrench the Hyde Amendment’s restrictions on abortion funding. Meanwhile, antiabortion extremists targeted clinics and providers with bombings, assaults and intimidation campaigns.

Throughout the decade, Ms. documented the real-world consequences of these policies, particularly for poor women and women of color, while warning that the fight over abortion was fundamentally about women’s autonomy, equality and power.

Yet the 1980s were also a decade of feminist resilience. Women identified an emerging gender gap in voting patterns, rallied behind Geraldine Ferraro’s historic vice presidential campaign and reintroduced the Equal Rights Amendment year after year.

By the decade’s end, a majority of women—and two-thirds of younger women—identified as feminists.

The lesson of the 1980s is that backlash is often a sign of a movement’s success. Faced with powerful opposition, feminists did not retreat. They adapted, organized and laid the groundwork for the political breakthroughs that would follow in the decades ahead.

This essay is part of Feminist Lessons—part 2 of Ms.’ our three-part FEMINIST 250 project—which explores what each decade of modern feminist history can teach us about power, democracy, backlash and social change.

The Growing Acceptance of a Movement That Wants to Punish Women for Abortion

When South Carolina’s abortion abolitionist bill, the Unborn Child Protection Act (S. 1095), was voted out of committee and onto the full Senate floor in late April—“an unprecedented move toward locking up women who have an abortion,” according to Dana Sussman in Slate—it raised a question: How much influence have abortion abolitionists gained within the broader antiabortion movement?

Abortion abolitionists, who seek to criminalize abortion without exceptions and punish women who obtain abortions as murderers, have long been considered the outer fringe of the antiabortion movement. Their roots can be traced to what Colleen Scerpella described in The Prospect as “a new generation of mostly white, male, conservative Baptists, Presbyterians and Christian Reconstructionists”—or what she calls “extreme Christian patriarchy.”

As I wrote in Ms. a little more than a year ago, the dramatic increase in abortion abolitionist bills filed by state lawmakers after Roe v. Wade fell, signaled the growing influence of this movement.

That extremism has not gone unnoticed: In 2024, the Southern Poverty Law Center identified four abolitionist organizations as “male supremacist hate groups.” Recent research has likewise found that the strongest supporters of arresting women who have abortions are Americans who endorse Christian nationalism, believe “true Americans are white,” and look to the state to enforce a particular ethnocultural social order.

The South Carolina bill, which makes the pregnant woman herself subject to misdemeanor liability, prompted me to revisit the question of whether abortion abolitionists have made more inroads into the mainstream antiabortion movement.

The evidence suggests they have.

A (Brief) History of Women’s Rights, 1600 to Present

From the Haudenosaunee women who successfully challenged warfare in the 17th century, to today’s feminist organizers defending democracy, reproductive freedom and civil rights, the struggle for women’s equality has never been a straight line. It is a story of persistence, resistance and collective action spanning centuries.

Compiled by editors at Ms. and researchers from the National Women’s History Alliance, this women’s history timeline traces the interconnected histories of feminism, abolition, labor organizing, civil rights, reproductive justice, LGBTQ+ liberation and democratic participation.

No timeline can fully capture more than 400 years of feminist history, let alone every movement, leader, victory and setback that has shaped the ongoing fight for equality. Rather than offering a comprehensive account, this chronology highlights pivotal moments and turning points that help tell the story of how women have expanded the boundaries of freedom, democracy and human rights in the United States and beyond.

The timeline is part of Ms. magazine’s FEMINIST 250: Founding Feminists project, a multimedia essay series marking the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence by examining the women and feminist movements that have worked to make the nation’s founding promises more fully realized. Through reported features, essays, interviews and historical analysis, FEMINIST 250 explores not only where we have been, but where we must go next to achieve true equality.

FEMINIST 250’s Parts 2 and 3—Feminist Lessons and Feminist Futures—drop this month on MsMagazine.com.

The Trump Administration Isn’t Just Ignoring Violence Against Abortion Clinics—It Wants to Fund It

The numbers are staggering: Between 2024 and 2025, death threats against abortion providers more than doubled. Stalking incidents more than doubled. Clinic blockades surged by 500 percent. There were four arsons. A planned assassination attempt against a Montana provider. And in the background of all of it, a federal government that has made unmistakably clear whose side it’s on.

Now, in an unprecedented move, the Trump Administration may be about to start writing checks to fund violent extremists. As part of a settlement to resolve his $10 billion lawsuit against his own Department of the Internal Revenue Service, the Department of Justice (DOJ) announced the creation of a $1.776 billion “Anti-Weaponization Fund.” The Fund is framed as compensation for people who claim they were targeted by politically motivated prosecutions under previous administrations, excluding Republican administrations.

Conservative Justices Resurrect the Comstock Act, Threatening Abortion Access Nationwide

On May 1, the Fifth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals blocked the mailing of mifepristone, one of the most widely used abortion medications in the country, threatening access for patients already facing a shrinking number of clinics nationwide. Although the Supreme Court temporarily stayed the ruling earlier this month, Justice Clarence Thomas’ dissent revealed something even more alarming: a renewed effort to resurrect the Comstock Act, a 19th-century anti-obscenity law once used to criminalize the mailing of abortion- and contraception-related materials.

The Comstock Act’s history is deeply tied to censorship, moral policing and attacks on marginalized communities. Under its broad and subjective definition of “obscenity,” authorities targeted contraception, abortion information, sexual health materials, queer literature and even works of classical art. Its reproductive restrictions disproportionately harmed poor and working-class women, who were often cut off from the safest and most affordable forms of care.

Today, antiabortion activists are once again looking to Comstock as a tool to restrict abortion nationwide—this time through the courts. Thomas’ explicit invocation of the law in the mifepristone fight signals how far-right legal movements are attempting to revive long-discredited morality laws to roll back reproductive freedom and other established rights.

Tennessee Tries to Silence Women Nearly Killed by Its Abortion Ban: ‘We Will Have Our Day in Court,’ Pledges Lead Plaintiff

Tennessee was supposed to face nine women in court on April 27 in a closely watched trial over the state’s abortion ban—women who say they were denied emergency care, forced to flee the state for abortions, or pushed to the brink of death after suffering catastrophic pregnancy complications. After waiting nearly three years to testify publicly about what happened to them, the plaintiffs were prepared to finally take the stand.

Then, less than two business days before the trial was set to begin, Tennessee Attorney General Jonathan Skrmetti (yes, the same Skrmetti whose name is now attached to the Supreme Court’s landmark anti-trans healthcare ruling) filed an appeal invoking a newly enacted state law which prevents Tennesseans from suing over any state law that harms them. The move stripped the court of jurisdiction over the case, abruptly halting the proceedings and potentially delaying the trial for months or years.

“We should be in court today standing up to Tennessee’s abortion ban,” the Center for Reproductive Rights said in a statement after the cancellation. “These women deserve their day in court. But Tennessee politicians refuse to listen.”

Among the plaintiffs is Allie Phillips, who says she was forced to travel to New York for an abortion after learning her fetus had a fatal diagnosis and that continuing the pregnancy put her own life at risk. By the time she arrived for care, she learned the fetus had already died in utero, placing her at heightened risk of infection and blood clots.

Phillips shares her story and reaction to the canceled trial, in her own words.

“I would have testified about how I would have risked my future fertility and my life if I had stayed pregnant in Tennessee. … I already had a 6-year-old daughter, Adalie, to raise. She needed me to live and be her mom. …

“We’re appealing. We don’t know how it will take but even if it’s five years, we will have our day in court. I’m not going anywhere.”

Trump’s Budget Plunders Birth Control and Reproductive Health Programs—With Open Derision for Americans Who Need Them

Title X is the federal program that funds family planning and reproductive health services nationwide—and under President Donald Trump’s proposed budget for 2027, it would be effectively eliminated, reshaping access to care for women across the country.

What is perhaps most jarring, on close reading, is not only what the budget proposes, but how it speaks. The language throughout the administration’s budget and HHS documents departs from traditional bureaucratic norms, adopting a tone that is at times openly mocking and vilifying. Programs serving women, LGBTQ people and marginalized communities are described in terms that signal not just opposition, but disdain. It is a stark reminder that federal budgets do more than allocate resources—they reflect who this government is for, and who it is not.

(This essay is part of an ongoing Ms. series examining the real-world impact of President Donald Trump’s proposed fiscal year 2027 budget. Across sectors—from healthcare and childcare to immigration enforcement and food assistance—the series explores what the administration’s funding priorities reveal about who government serves, and who it leaves behind.)

The FACE Act Is Settled Law, Despite Efforts to Reframe It

At a House Judiciary Subcommittee hearing on the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances (FACE) Act on Tuesday, members of the House GOP—including Texas Reps. Chip Roy and Brandon Gill and Ohio’s Jim Jordan—attempted to rewrite or minimize the history of violence against providers and patients, recasting antiabortion clinic blockades as peaceful protest.

Jessica L. Waters, J.D., senior scholar in residence at American University, gave a forceful defense of the FACE Act and pushed back on efforts to recast clinic blockades as protected speech.

“People should be able to seek medical care, and medical professionals should be able to provide it, without fear of violence or intimidation. This is an issue that warrants a federal remedy.”