We Fought Too Hard for This Vote. Here’s How We Protect It.

The ability to participate in free and fair elections is arguably the most essential American right. Yet on Jan. 6, 2021, the nation watched as a mob overran the Capitol. In an act designed to interfere with the peaceful transfer of power from one president to the next, they attacked law enforcement officers who were there to protect the building and members of Congress inside. Rioters desecrated the Capitol. Our vote and our democracy seemed fragile that day and in the days that followed.

Now, President Donald Trump is trying to create a role for the president in running and overseeing elections. That’s not how the Constitution works.

The effort to interfere with the November midterms isn’t going to consist of a single, dramatic event on Election Day. It is what we are already seeing: a combination of efforts by Trump and his supporters to make it more difficult to vote, to create confusion about who is eligible to vote, to pressure state and local officials, and to manufacture uncertainty. As Jan. 6 proved, distrust among the American people makes it easier for an administration to contest election results they don’t like. And the Trump administration is doing all of this with an eye toward shifting as much control over elections as possible from the states to the federal government.

We can already see where pressure is being applied to voters and election officials, and we can identify the kinds of problems that are likely to arise.

You don’t need to be a constitutional law scholar to make a difference. It just takes a desire to be useful, to engage in democracy and become a participant, not a bystander. Know your state’s rules and deadlines for registering. Research whether you can vote early or by mail. Help the people around you, who may be less informed, do the same. Volunteer as a poll worker if you can. Volunteer to do election protection work if you are a lawyer, law student, retired lawyer or simply someone willing to be trained.

Fifth Circuit Judges Seem Skeptical of Louisiana’s Challenge to Telehealth Abortion

On Wednesday, Sep. 9, a three-judge panel of the 5th Circuit Court of Appeals in New Orleans heard oral arguments in Louisiana v. FDA, a lawsuit filed by the Louisiana attorney general seeking to end telehealth abortion nationwide, even in states that protect abortion access.

Since the fall of Roe and a national snapback of abortion rights in a majority of U.S. states, the antiabortion movement has been laser focused on trying to restrict telehealth abortion because it’s increasing in both awareness and popularity, and it allows patients to circumvent state bans.

The 5th Circuit is considered one of the most conservative appeals courts in the country. But the three-judge panel randomly selected to hear Wednesday’s case included two judges appointed by Democratic presidents: Judge Stephen Higginson, appointed by former President Barack Obama; and Judge Dana Douglas, by former President Joe Biden. The third judge, Judy Richman, was appointed by George W. Bush.

During oral arguments, all three judges indicated skepticism about Louisiana’s arguments, starting with Louisiana’s right to bring the case.

While the recent 5th Circuit hearing offers hope that efforts to restrict mifepristone through the courts will not succeed anytime soon, two greater threats remain: Trump’s antiabortion nominee to lead the FDA, Heidi Overton, and Attorney General Todd Blanche’s promise to restrict the mailing of mifepristone under the Comstock Act. (This move would spur immediate lawsuits by Democratic states and manufacturers of mifepristone.)

Meanwhile, abortion rights advocates will never give up in finding new ways to put abortion pills in women’s hands.

Who Should Decide Whether a Patient Needs an Abortion: A Doctor or an Opinion Columnist?

In case you missed it, a Washington Post columnist published an op-ed late last month that can only be described as a whine-weary litany of complaints about blue states’ targeting of crisis pregnancy centers (its headline, “In Massachusetts, ‘reproductive freedom’ goes only one way”)—a response to the decriminalization of abortion care later in pregnancy in the Commonwealth this summer.

It is fatuous and lazy commentary, recycling antiabortion movement talking points and a tired victim narrative about crisis pregnancy centers (CPCs). It reads like straight-up CPC industry PR—something you’d find in the right-wing Washington Examiner. An embarrassment, even to Jeff Bezos’ Post.

And yet: It’s notable that extremist talking points are platformed in such a mainstream outlet.

To set the record straight about the Massachusetts law: The Prioritizing Patient Access to Care Act removed statutory restrictions that had limited abortion care at 24 weeks or later to specified medical circumstances. Providers and supporters of the repeal said those restrictions were so narrow and difficult to interpret that doctors and hospital attorneys feared criminal prosecution or civil liability for authorizing care, even in cases involving grave fetal diagnoses or serious threats to a patient’s health. As a result, some Massachusetts patients facing pregnancy complications had to travel to places such as Washington, D.C., Maryland or New Mexico for care.

The Post column flippantly describes the new law as allowing women “to terminate pregnancies until birth, for any reason, so long as doing so accords with a physician’s ‘professional judgment’” (the writer’s scare quotes).

If not a trained medical professional, then who should be empowered to make this healthcare decision with a patient? An opinion columnist?

Keshia Golden’s Plea Deal Kept Her Out of Prison—But Don’t Mistake It for Justice

Keshia Golden’s attorneys say that in October 2022, while she was eight-plus months pregnant, her then-boyfriend Calvin Sidney hit her, grabbed her hair and slammed her head against a kitchen counter. Golden grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed Sidney in the leg. Golden only intended to make him stop, she has always insisted. But she hit the femoral artery. Sidney died at a Chicago hospital.

Keshia Golden was charged with first-degree murder and held in jail, where, weeks from giving birth, she was transferred to the medical unit to recover from her injuries. Four years passed.

Then, on Aug. 24, 2026, just before Golden’s trial was to begin, the Cook County state’s attorney Eileen O’Neill Burke offered Golden a last-minute deal: If she pled guilty to involuntary manslaughter and underwent two years of community service, drug testing and probation, she would serve no prison time.

All evidence points to the fact that Golden acted in self-defense and should never have been charged in the first place.

Nonetheless, she accepted the plea.

Her acceptance of this lesser charge is not an admission of guilt. It’s also not justice.

Golden is a single mother who was forced to make an impossible choice to ensure she would be able to raise her 3-year-old daughter. “All she has is me,” Golden said in court. 

Now, the only remaining path to justice for Golden is a pardon from Gov. JB Pritzker. Such a pardon would send a clear message: No woman should have to die to prove that she was a victim. No one should be punished for surviving abuse, defending themselves or protecting their child.

The Deportation of 5-Year-Old Liam Tadeo Signals a Darker Era for Immigration Policy

Five-year-old Liam Tadeo and his dad, Victor Martinez Nieto, planned to spend the last day of summer before kindergarten playing soccer. Instead, on Sunday, Aug. 16, on the way to Liam’s game, ICE agents pulled them over, arrested them and sent both father and son to a family detention center in Dilley, Texas. 

Victor begged ICE to release Liam to his mom, but according to their attorney, Kate Lincoln-Goldfinch, ICE ignored the request. (ICE did not respond to a request for comment.)

It became clear that if Victor—who does not have legal status in the United States—chose to fight his detention or deportation, he risked losing Liam. DHS would likely treat Liam as an “unaccompanied minor” and send him to the Office of Refugee Resettlement for placement in a shelter or foster care, despite the presence of his mother and other family members ready and able to care for him. 

The family decided to accept the deportation order, despite the wrenching consequences of taking Liam from his family and his home. At least, this way, he will be with his dad in Mexico. 

ICE deported Liam and Victor on Aug. 28.

According to Lincoln-Goldfinch, Liam wasn’t able to say goodbye to his mother.

Such cruelty has become the norm in Trump’s immigration regime, but it is carried out quietly and with brutal efficiency. ICE arrested more than 46,000 people in July alone; for the first time, arrests of people without a criminal record surpassed the number of individuals arrested based (however tangentially) on a past criminal arrest or conviction.  

Change didn’t come in time for Liam and his family, but hundreds of thousands of children, regardless of their immigration status, can still be protected. Restoring a fair and just system demands political courage, public outrage, and major policy reform. But it begins by exposing the subtle, despicable tactics that turn children like Liam Tadeo into pawns of immigration policy.

I Want an Oura Ring. As a Reproductive Health Lawyer, I Know Better.

I almost bought an Oura Ring at 3:12 in the morning. I was lying awake in my small D.C. apartment, my phone casting a blue glow across my face. I couldn’t sleep. Again. My mind was already racing through the work waiting for me in the morning: Federal Register alerts, Google alerts for abortion ban and pregnancy criminalization, another headline about a woman denied reproductive care.

So I did what people do when they can’t sleep: I shopped. I opened the Target app looking for something—anything—that might help me sleep, and soon an Oura Ring was sitting in my cart. Before checking out I opened TikTok to see whether it was actually worth it. Soon, I was watching a woman talk about her Oura Ring the way people talk about a revelation, a religious experience. One video became 10. Women talked about the ring as if it had given them access to a version of their bodies they had never been able to understand before. It noticed signs of illness before they felt sick. It helped explain their exhaustion. It tracked their cycles and identified patterns connected to fertility and pregnancy. Its promise was simple and seductive: the ring might know what was happening inside your body before you did.

It sounded incredible. I wanted the ring to tell me why I was so tired. I wanted it to warn me before I got sick. More than anything, I wanted to understand my own body. 

For generations, women have been told their pain is normal, their cycles are mysterious, and their instincts are unreliable. So when a device promises to listen to your body every minute of every day and translate its signals into something you can finally understand, it doesn’t feel like a luxury. It feels like power.

‘It’s Killing the Women You Represent’: Texas Widower’s Plea to Lawmakers to End Abortion Ban

After his 35-year-old wife bled to death from a miscarriage in a Houston-area hospital, a Texas father is suing—and taking her story to Capitol Hill.

“Choosing to bring new life into the world shouldn’t be a death sentence,” insisted Michelle Maloney, the San Antonio attorney working to bring justice to Texas widower Hope Ngumezi and his two young sons.

Three years ago, in June 2023, Hope’s beloved wife Porsha was happily expecting the couple’s third child until she began to miscarry at 11 weeks pregnant. The healthy 35-year-old finance manager for a charter school went to the emergency room at Houston Methodist Sugar Land Hospital, just 10 minutes from her home in suburban Houston.

Both she and Hope were certain that she would receive the safe and critical medical care that she needed as she passed fetal tissue and blood clots the size of grapefruits at the hospital. An ultrasound confirmed that she had partially miscarried and that her fetus no longer had a heartbeat. But the heavy bleeding didn’t stop.

Still, the hospital’s OB-GYN, who examined her just once, moved Porsha from the ER—where staff were equipped to respond to emergencies—to a regular floor, where she received less monitoring. Porsha arrived at the hospital at 3:37 p.m. By 2 a.m., she began gasping for air and within minutes, she had died of hemorrhage.

A dozen doctors who reviewed her medical records for ProPublica, which broke the story about her death, said that Porsha should have urgently received a very simple and standard procedure for a miscarriage—a D&C (dilation and curettage). The 10-15 minute D&C would have removed all remaining fetal tissue in her womb, which her uterus was trying to expel with heavy contractions and bleeding. The procedure would have stopped the bleeding.

“The poor thing bled to death for lack of a D&C. It’s atrocious,” Austin OB-GYN Nancy Binford told Courier Texas.

Why the Blake Lively Case Matters—and Why Most Women Like Her Have No Legal Recourse

According to Blake Lively’s allegations, Justin Baldoni repeatedly discussed his porn addiction and personal sex life, made comments about her body and improvised physical intimacy that had not been choreographed.

Her claims were dismissed, not because a judge found them lacking in merit, but for procedural reasons tied to her independent contractor status under California law. The harassment itself was never adjudicated.

In 2019, in direct response to the #MeToo movement, New York state lowered the bar for what constitutes sexual harassment. Under current New York law, a worker cannot be subjected to inferior terms or conditions of employment because of their sex. Behavior that rises above a petty slight or trivial inconvenience is now actionable.

In my practice, I see the real effects of sexual harassment on women every day. That psychological weight is real and costly. Not only are women jumping from job to job to avoid harassers, but companies are also losing talented employees.

It is time for federal law to catch up, lowering the standard so that harassment that subjects women to inferior terms and conditions of employment is actionable, regardless of which state they work in.

Women’s Sports Were Built by Letting Girls In

When the Supreme Court upheld West Virginia’s ban on transgender girls participating in girls’ school sports in West Virginia v. B.P.J., it said the ruling was about protecting the safety and fairness of women’s and girls’ sports. I hear that claim against everything I actually lived.

Thirty years ago, in United States v. Virginia, the Supreme Court held that generalizations about “the way women are” cannot justify denying opportunity to women whose talent and capacity place them outside the average description. That principle didn’t just build my generation of athletes. It built a generation of women: the litigators and judges, the surgeons, the CEOs and entrepreneurs, the senators and governors, the police officers and firefighters and fighter pilots, the women who were the first of everything. Every one of those doors was held shut by the same argument Virginia made: Most women wouldn’t want this, most women couldn’t do it.

Women of my generation didn’t fight to be seen as individuals—as athletes, as leaders, as whatever they had it in them to be—only to watch that principle eroded now, in their name and over their objection.

More than half a century ago, this country decided that girls who had been told they didn’t belong on the field belonged there after all. I got to live the proof of that promise. The work now is to keep that promise for every kid who wants to play.

A Single Abortion Clinic Closing Rarely Makes Headlines. What Happens When None Are Left?

Picture a map of the United States. It’s 2022, and in southern states like Texas and Tennessee, there are clusters of black dots that represent independent clinic closures. These are abortion care black holes: communities where it’s no longer possible to get an abortion at a nearby clinic.

Fast forward to present. It’s 2026, four years after the Supreme Court’s decision in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, and black dots have multiplied in states across the country. It no longer matters if the state is red or blue, governed by conservatives or progressives. None are immune to the increasing weight of political pressure, financial strain and operational difficulty that are forcing independent clinics to close or stop providing abortion care.

Each of these black dots is a community suffering a healthcare crisis, and they are proliferating across the United States at a rapid rate.

Independent clinics are often the only places to get clinical abortion care, unbiased information and support for pregnancy options. They are where people go to feel safe and respected, whether they are getting an abortion, continuing a pregnancy or getting gender-affirming care. In small towns and rural spaces, these clinics are often the only safe place for many people, especially those who are LGBTQIA+. If clinics close, there is often nowhere else to go.

And once abortion clinics close, it’s not as simple as reopening when they can, if they can. Even if a specific restriction is lifted, severe financial constraints, continued political hostility, threats of violence and legal uncertainty still stand.