To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.
An abortion rights protester displays a sign during a gathering to protest the Supreme Court's decision in the Dobbs v Jackson Women's Health case at The Gene Snyder U.S. Courthouse on June 24, 2022 in Louisville, Kentucky.
The loss of Roe wasn’t just about abortion, it was a green light to dismantle reproductive freedom at every level.
It has been three years since Roe v. Wade was overturned. A seismic ruling shattering the constitutional right to abortion sent this country into a public health crisis. In the aftermath, millions of people have been stripped of autonomy over their own bodies, forced into pregnancies they did not choose, denied medication for miscarriages, and criminalized for seeking basic healthcare.
This is not a post-Roe world. It is a post-rights world. And we are still living through the consequences.
Across the nation, 19 states now have near or-total abortion bans. In many more, access has been drastically limited by targeted restrictions, clinic closures, and political interference. But the loss of Roe wasn’t just about abortion, it was a green light to dismantle reproductive freedom at every level. The attacks have expanded to birth control, emergency contraception, gender-affirming care, IVF, and even medical privacy.
Gerrymandered districts, activist judges, and extremist lawmakers continue to pass laws that do not reflect the will of the people.
Everyday clinics and doctors are under siege. Providers are being driven out by threats, legal risks, and burnout. Many Planned Parenthoods and independent clinics in banned states no longer provide abortion care at all. That burden has fallen on organizations like ours—small, often women-, queer-, and BIPOC-led abortion funds doing the lifesaving work of helping patients afford care and travel across state lines. But the need has skyrocketed, and funding has not. Foundations give less than 2% of their dollars to direct abortion support. We are asked to do more with less while the people we serve pay the price.
Survivors of rape or domestic violence are forced to carry pregnancies because they don’t qualify for their state’s narrow exceptions. Minors have to beg courts for permission to terminate pregnancies. Patients sleep in cars while waiting for appointments in the closest legal state. And we are their safety net and will continue to be in this man-made disaster.
Meanwhile, politicians—mostly white, mostly male—continue to play God with our lives. They are not doctors. They are not ethicists. They are not the people bearing the risks, the trauma, or the responsibility of pregnancy. And yet they are the ones deciding who deserves healthcare and who doesn’t.
Nowhere is that clearer than in Georgia, where a heartbreaking story made national headlines. Adriana Smith, a 31-year-old woman, was declared brain dead four months ago. But because she was pregnant, her body was kept alive by machines—not out of medical necessity, but due to Georgia’s abortion ban, which includes personhood language that grants legal rights to embryos at six weeks gestation. Her family was forced to watch as she was kept on life support against her wishes. In Georgia, the embryo inside her had more legal value than Adriana herself.
This is what happens when politicians legislate ideology. When we prioritize hypothetical life over a real one: a daughter, a sister, a human being, we lose not just rights, but our humanity.
And still, we hear silence when it comes to men’s responsibility.
No law mandates men to support a child they helped create before birth. No one is tracking their behavior, forcing paternity tests, or denying their autonomy. They are not losing jobs, skipping school, or facing stigma for becoming parents. Yet the full burden of pregnancy, childcare, and judgment falls squarely on the pregnant person who are forced to risk their health, financial stability, and futures to carry pregnancies. Where patients are denied their fundamental rights under the guise of “protecting life.” Where the father of a child can disappear without consequence.
It has been three years since Roe fell. And still, we are shouting the same truths:
The majority of Americans agree. Poll after poll shows that most people support legal abortion and reproductive freedom. Yet the system is rigged. Gerrymandered districts, activist judges, and extremist lawmakers continue to pass laws that do not reflect the will of the people.
But here’s the truth: Roe was never enough. It was the floor, not the ceiling. Even before its fall, access was unequal based on race, income, zip code, and immigration status. Roe protected a legal right, but it didn’t guarantee access, safety, or justice. And we should not be fighting to go back to that flawed baseline. We must demand a future that does better for all of us.
So, what do we do?
We keep fighting—harder than ever. We vote like our lives depend on it, because they do. We support abortion funds that are on the frontlines, providing help when no one else will. We demand accountability—not just from politicians, but from the people in our communities who stay silent. We uplift the stories of those who’ve been harmed by these cruel policies, and we refuse to let them be erased.
And we imagine a future where our rights are not just restored but expanded. A future rooted in justice, equity, and compassion. A future where no one is forced to give birth against their will, and no one dies waiting for the law to catch up to basic humanity.
Donald Trump’s attacks on democracy, justice, and a free press are escalating — putting everything we stand for at risk. We believe a better world is possible, but we can’t get there without your support. Common Dreams stands apart. We answer only to you — our readers, activists, and changemakers — not to billionaires or corporations. Our independence allows us to cover the vital stories that others won’t, spotlighting movements for peace, equality, and human rights. Right now, our work faces unprecedented challenges. Misinformation is spreading, journalists are under attack, and financial pressures are mounting. As a reader-supported, nonprofit newsroom, your support is crucial to keep this journalism alive. Whatever you can give — $10, $25, or $100 — helps us stay strong and responsive when the world needs us most. Together, we’ll continue to build the independent, courageous journalism our movement relies on. Thank you for being part of this community. |
It has been three years since Roe v. Wade was overturned. A seismic ruling shattering the constitutional right to abortion sent this country into a public health crisis. In the aftermath, millions of people have been stripped of autonomy over their own bodies, forced into pregnancies they did not choose, denied medication for miscarriages, and criminalized for seeking basic healthcare.
This is not a post-Roe world. It is a post-rights world. And we are still living through the consequences.
Across the nation, 19 states now have near or-total abortion bans. In many more, access has been drastically limited by targeted restrictions, clinic closures, and political interference. But the loss of Roe wasn’t just about abortion, it was a green light to dismantle reproductive freedom at every level. The attacks have expanded to birth control, emergency contraception, gender-affirming care, IVF, and even medical privacy.
Gerrymandered districts, activist judges, and extremist lawmakers continue to pass laws that do not reflect the will of the people.
Everyday clinics and doctors are under siege. Providers are being driven out by threats, legal risks, and burnout. Many Planned Parenthoods and independent clinics in banned states no longer provide abortion care at all. That burden has fallen on organizations like ours—small, often women-, queer-, and BIPOC-led abortion funds doing the lifesaving work of helping patients afford care and travel across state lines. But the need has skyrocketed, and funding has not. Foundations give less than 2% of their dollars to direct abortion support. We are asked to do more with less while the people we serve pay the price.
Survivors of rape or domestic violence are forced to carry pregnancies because they don’t qualify for their state’s narrow exceptions. Minors have to beg courts for permission to terminate pregnancies. Patients sleep in cars while waiting for appointments in the closest legal state. And we are their safety net and will continue to be in this man-made disaster.
Meanwhile, politicians—mostly white, mostly male—continue to play God with our lives. They are not doctors. They are not ethicists. They are not the people bearing the risks, the trauma, or the responsibility of pregnancy. And yet they are the ones deciding who deserves healthcare and who doesn’t.
Nowhere is that clearer than in Georgia, where a heartbreaking story made national headlines. Adriana Smith, a 31-year-old woman, was declared brain dead four months ago. But because she was pregnant, her body was kept alive by machines—not out of medical necessity, but due to Georgia’s abortion ban, which includes personhood language that grants legal rights to embryos at six weeks gestation. Her family was forced to watch as she was kept on life support against her wishes. In Georgia, the embryo inside her had more legal value than Adriana herself.
This is what happens when politicians legislate ideology. When we prioritize hypothetical life over a real one: a daughter, a sister, a human being, we lose not just rights, but our humanity.
And still, we hear silence when it comes to men’s responsibility.
No law mandates men to support a child they helped create before birth. No one is tracking their behavior, forcing paternity tests, or denying their autonomy. They are not losing jobs, skipping school, or facing stigma for becoming parents. Yet the full burden of pregnancy, childcare, and judgment falls squarely on the pregnant person who are forced to risk their health, financial stability, and futures to carry pregnancies. Where patients are denied their fundamental rights under the guise of “protecting life.” Where the father of a child can disappear without consequence.
It has been three years since Roe fell. And still, we are shouting the same truths:
The majority of Americans agree. Poll after poll shows that most people support legal abortion and reproductive freedom. Yet the system is rigged. Gerrymandered districts, activist judges, and extremist lawmakers continue to pass laws that do not reflect the will of the people.
But here’s the truth: Roe was never enough. It was the floor, not the ceiling. Even before its fall, access was unequal based on race, income, zip code, and immigration status. Roe protected a legal right, but it didn’t guarantee access, safety, or justice. And we should not be fighting to go back to that flawed baseline. We must demand a future that does better for all of us.
So, what do we do?
We keep fighting—harder than ever. We vote like our lives depend on it, because they do. We support abortion funds that are on the frontlines, providing help when no one else will. We demand accountability—not just from politicians, but from the people in our communities who stay silent. We uplift the stories of those who’ve been harmed by these cruel policies, and we refuse to let them be erased.
And we imagine a future where our rights are not just restored but expanded. A future rooted in justice, equity, and compassion. A future where no one is forced to give birth against their will, and no one dies waiting for the law to catch up to basic humanity.
It has been three years since Roe v. Wade was overturned. A seismic ruling shattering the constitutional right to abortion sent this country into a public health crisis. In the aftermath, millions of people have been stripped of autonomy over their own bodies, forced into pregnancies they did not choose, denied medication for miscarriages, and criminalized for seeking basic healthcare.
This is not a post-Roe world. It is a post-rights world. And we are still living through the consequences.
Across the nation, 19 states now have near or-total abortion bans. In many more, access has been drastically limited by targeted restrictions, clinic closures, and political interference. But the loss of Roe wasn’t just about abortion, it was a green light to dismantle reproductive freedom at every level. The attacks have expanded to birth control, emergency contraception, gender-affirming care, IVF, and even medical privacy.
Gerrymandered districts, activist judges, and extremist lawmakers continue to pass laws that do not reflect the will of the people.
Everyday clinics and doctors are under siege. Providers are being driven out by threats, legal risks, and burnout. Many Planned Parenthoods and independent clinics in banned states no longer provide abortion care at all. That burden has fallen on organizations like ours—small, often women-, queer-, and BIPOC-led abortion funds doing the lifesaving work of helping patients afford care and travel across state lines. But the need has skyrocketed, and funding has not. Foundations give less than 2% of their dollars to direct abortion support. We are asked to do more with less while the people we serve pay the price.
Survivors of rape or domestic violence are forced to carry pregnancies because they don’t qualify for their state’s narrow exceptions. Minors have to beg courts for permission to terminate pregnancies. Patients sleep in cars while waiting for appointments in the closest legal state. And we are their safety net and will continue to be in this man-made disaster.
Meanwhile, politicians—mostly white, mostly male—continue to play God with our lives. They are not doctors. They are not ethicists. They are not the people bearing the risks, the trauma, or the responsibility of pregnancy. And yet they are the ones deciding who deserves healthcare and who doesn’t.
Nowhere is that clearer than in Georgia, where a heartbreaking story made national headlines. Adriana Smith, a 31-year-old woman, was declared brain dead four months ago. But because she was pregnant, her body was kept alive by machines—not out of medical necessity, but due to Georgia’s abortion ban, which includes personhood language that grants legal rights to embryos at six weeks gestation. Her family was forced to watch as she was kept on life support against her wishes. In Georgia, the embryo inside her had more legal value than Adriana herself.
This is what happens when politicians legislate ideology. When we prioritize hypothetical life over a real one: a daughter, a sister, a human being, we lose not just rights, but our humanity.
And still, we hear silence when it comes to men’s responsibility.
No law mandates men to support a child they helped create before birth. No one is tracking their behavior, forcing paternity tests, or denying their autonomy. They are not losing jobs, skipping school, or facing stigma for becoming parents. Yet the full burden of pregnancy, childcare, and judgment falls squarely on the pregnant person who are forced to risk their health, financial stability, and futures to carry pregnancies. Where patients are denied their fundamental rights under the guise of “protecting life.” Where the father of a child can disappear without consequence.
It has been three years since Roe fell. And still, we are shouting the same truths:
The majority of Americans agree. Poll after poll shows that most people support legal abortion and reproductive freedom. Yet the system is rigged. Gerrymandered districts, activist judges, and extremist lawmakers continue to pass laws that do not reflect the will of the people.
But here’s the truth: Roe was never enough. It was the floor, not the ceiling. Even before its fall, access was unequal based on race, income, zip code, and immigration status. Roe protected a legal right, but it didn’t guarantee access, safety, or justice. And we should not be fighting to go back to that flawed baseline. We must demand a future that does better for all of us.
So, what do we do?
We keep fighting—harder than ever. We vote like our lives depend on it, because they do. We support abortion funds that are on the frontlines, providing help when no one else will. We demand accountability—not just from politicians, but from the people in our communities who stay silent. We uplift the stories of those who’ve been harmed by these cruel policies, and we refuse to let them be erased.
And we imagine a future where our rights are not just restored but expanded. A future rooted in justice, equity, and compassion. A future where no one is forced to give birth against their will, and no one dies waiting for the law to catch up to basic humanity.
