![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.ghanamma.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/02\/image_2022-01-31_105706-696x622.png\" "\\"Rihanna")
She looks beautiful, and the way Rihanna is being celebrated after the announcement of her bundle of joy should be the reality for all Black women. But it\u2019s unusual for America to celebrate a Black woman\u2019s pregnancy.<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t help but grapple with a disheartening reality that Malcolm X talked about. He said: \u201cThe most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.\u201d<\/p>\n
So as we celebrate this moment with Rihanna, who is also a social justice activist and philanthropist, let\u2019s also continue to amplify the horrors that Black women are facing with maternal health due to racism in this country.<\/p>\n
As a new mother myself, being pregnant and giving birth in the height of the pandemic and social unrest was the most challenging moment of my lifetime.<\/p>\n
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When I found out I was pregnant, I didn\u2019t know if my partner would be able to be with me when I gave birth. I didn\u2019t know if I would have someone who could advocate for my needs. Being able to have a loved one in the room has been a matter of life or death for Black women, due to institutional racism and unconscious biases that centre neglectful practices.<\/p>\n
In the summer of 2020, as concerned and outraged citizens across the globe gathered in order to protest against police violence in America, Black people in labour were being stopped on the way to hospitals by police and harassed. I live right in the middle of downtown Baltimore, and I could hear the chants and see the signs of hundreds as they marched down to city hall. After dark, when the protesters went home to restore, the next group of outraged citizens took their suffering to the next level by breaking glass windows of all the surrounding buildings, including the building I live in.<\/p>\n
As my due date to give birth was approaching, I had to sit with the fear of all the possible outcomes. I didn\u2019t know if I\u2019d be able to get to the hospital. I didn\u2019t know if I would live through the birth. I didn\u2019t know if I would be leaving with a baby girl in my arms.<\/p>\n
My daughter, Reign, was born on Juneteenth, Black people\u2019s independence day, which is now a national holiday. It wasn\u2019t at the time. Juneteenth is the day we commemorate emancipation from slavery.<\/p>\n
During labour, I was on the phone with Washington, D.C.\u2019s police chief. I was organising in partnership with community activist Sharon Wise and had planned a peaceful rally and march in D.C. in order to amplify the voices of Ward 8, the city\u2019s ward that has the most African American people and the fewest resources. I didn\u2019t anticipate Reign coming days late and that I would have to induce my labour.<\/p>\n
In order to ensure that the rally and march persisted and that my people would be safe and not harassed by police, we took the approach of working with the department and including them in the process. As my labour progressed, I was having trouble breathing. As a Black woman, I had to tell a series of medical professionals: \u201cI can\u2019t breathe.\u201d<\/p>\n
The echoes of the phrase in that moment were not lost on me. They gave me oxygen. Then the next nurse on shift would tell me I didn\u2019t need it, and removed my oxygen mask. While pushing out Reign, I nearly fainted. If it had been one more push, I would have passed out.<\/p>\n
Doctors believe Black women less when we say\u00a0we are in pain. I was FaceTiming with my sister and mother, who weren\u2019t allowed in the hospital because of COVID-19. The doctors would tell me I couldn\u2019t do it. They didn\u2019t give a reason. I had to fight for my rights.<\/p>\n
They tried to pressure me to have a C-section even though I didn\u2019t need one. The higher percentage of Black women who undergo C-sections compared to white women\u00a0is one thing. I was experiencing the reality of medical racism. Again, I had to advocate for myself.<\/p>\n
My partner, James, was there, and he also advocated for me. We were lucky. It was a shocking reality check. When you are Black, your status, your wealth doesn\u2019t matter. Even having insurance doesn\u2019t change things.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s not an argument about it at this point. America doesn\u2019t value the Black woman\u2019s body on equal terms. America doesn\u2019t value the fruit of our bodies, our Black children, on equal terms. Black women are still viewed through racist stereotypes as \u201cwelfare baby mommas.\u201d Meanwhile, we are\u00a0three times likelier\u00a0than white women to die from pregnancy.<\/p>\n
I train young women to run for political office on both sides of the aisle. Many of them say they\u2019re not political when we first meet. But I tell them if they don\u2019t advocate on issues they care about, then decisions get made for them.<\/p>\n
When it comes to reproductive justice, we need more women to get elected.\u00a0Reproductive justice\u00a0reflects the lives and experiences of Black women, including all of our identities, who have been denied a full range of services and protections, and uses the lens of intersectionality, in order to acknowledge how multiple systems of oppression work together.<\/p>\n
Congress, at a minimum, still hasn\u2019t passed paid family leave into law.<\/p>\n
So, yes. It is fantastic news that Rihanna is pregnant. We should celebrate it. And we should use symbolism to guide our actions, but not as a measure of achievement. It\u2019s time we make the experience of all Black pregnancies an opportunity for celebration.<\/p>\n
*****<\/strong><\/p>\n Tierra Stewart is Chief Program Officer at\u00a0IGNITE. It is America\u2019s largest and most diverse organisation for young women\u2019s political leadership.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n