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National Abortion Providers, Thank You!
On this National Abortion Provider Appreciation Day, during Women’s History Month, we reflect on what it truly means to lead change by honoring providers who stand courageous in clinics across the country.
Mar 10, 2026
Each March, as the world turns its gaze toward Women’s History Month, we are reminded of the countless women whose courage, intellect, resilience, and leadership have reshaped our world. For 2026, the national theme—“Leading the Change: Women Shaping a Sustainable Future”—honors the women who are reimagining and rebuilding systems to ensure long-term sustainability: environmental, economic, educational, and societal. It recognizes women’s leadership in creating a future rooted in equity, justice, and opportunity for all.
Within that narrative sits a group of women and gender-expansive people whose work rarely appears in history books but whose impact resonates through lives across the nation: abortion providers.
On March 10, National Abortion Provider Appreciation Day, we are called to honor these fearless caregivers who sit at the frontlines of reproductive healthcare. They embody the very essence of this year’s Women’s History Month theme of leading change and shaping a future where bodily autonomy, dignity, and compassionate care are not just ideals but realities.
Abortion providers deliver essential medical care in the face of extraordinary adversity. They confront threats, protests, harassment, legal warfare, and violence—all aimed at trying to silence them, intimidate them, or push them out of the work they know is crucial. They endure anti-clinic demonstrations, surveillance by extremists, and political rhetoric designed to vilify not just a medical procedure but the fundamental humanity of the people they serve. Despite this, they show up day after day with resolve and open hearts.
Just as the suffragists, civil rights leaders, and healthcare pioneers of earlier eras were architects of change, today’s abortion providers are reshaping what justice looks like in the 21st century.
Their courage is deeply personal. It is the exam room conversation where a provider listens without judgment. It is the moment they guide a patient through a complex decision with clarity and care. It is the steady hand on a shoulder trembling with fear and hope. This is leadership: not in some distant boardroom, but in shared humanity. This is sustainability: building systems of care that endure in the face of relentless attack.
At the Women’s Reproductive Rights Assistance Project (WRRAP), we fund patients and eliminate financial barriers. But it is abortion providers who make care happen. They are the ones with the medical training, the compassion, the resilience, and sometimes the very bodies standing between patients and an unsafe, uncertain future.
Our work at WRRAP could not exist without these providers at the forefront. They are our partners in every sense bridging policy and possibility, funding and freedom, fear and resilience. We provide financial support so a patient doesn’t have to choose between rent and care, but it is the provider who opens their door, who holds space for people, who offers healing and hope in a world that so often refuses it.
To the providers who dedicate their lives to this work: We see you, we thank you, and we honor you. You are shaping a sustainable future, one where people have autonomy over their bodies and futures; one where care is delivered with compassion, dignity, and respect; one where equity is more than a slogan but a lived practice.
The work of abortion providers is history making. Just as the suffragists, civil rights leaders, and healthcare pioneers of earlier eras were architects of change, today’s abortion providers are reshaping what justice looks like in the 21st century. They are environmental stewards of well-being, economic innovators in equitable care delivery, educators in dignity and consent, and societal leaders in advancing reproductive freedom for all.
Being a provider today means doing the work under threats that others can scarcely imagine. It means navigating legal labyrinths designed to block care, enduring hostile legislative sessions, and facing protests that seek to make the act of healing itself controversial. And yet, providers persist, not because it is easy, but because it is necessary.
On this National Abortion Provider Appreciation Day, during Women’s History Month, we reflect on what it truly means to lead change by honoring providers who stand courageous in clinics across the country, whose safety has been threatened because they chose care over fear, whose compassion has saved futures with every patient they serve.
To every abortion provider today: Thank you for leading. Thank you for caring. Thank you for building a future rooted in justice, compassion, and dignity.
We are grateful beyond words, and we stand with you. This is our collective power.
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New Research Details 'Human and Economic Toll' of US Abortion Bans
"Abortion bans don't stay in exam rooms," said the Center for Reproductive Rights president. "They reshape communities, workplaces, and state economies."
Mar 09, 2026
With attention directed at President Donald Trump's war on immigrants across the United States and various international conflicts, including the assault on Iran, there hasn't been much prominent news coverage in recent weeks about a key issue of the 2024 campaign—GOP abortion bans—but people nationwide continue to endure the impacts of such policies, as revealed in a Monday report from the Center for Reproductive Rights.
The Price of Safety: Stories of Abortions Denied, Careers Disrupted, and States Left Behind features various profiles demonstrating "the human and economic toll" of abortion bans, which right-wing policymakers have enacted or intensified since the US Supreme Court reversed Roe v. Wade with its Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization decision in 2022.
The anthology uses stories from patients, doctors, business leaders, and others to "show the real-world consequences of laws that criminalize standard medical care," said Nancy Northup, the center's president, in a statement. "Abortion bans don't stay in exam rooms. They reshape communities, workplaces, and state economies. As long as politicians keep restricting care, families will keep moving, clinicians will keep leaving, and states will keep watching their competitive edge slip away."
"Our daughter's spine was severely abnormal, her brain hadn't formed correctly, and she only had one kidney... I did everything by the book medically, but the experience still made me feel like a criminal for seeking evidence-based care for a lethal fetal diagnosis."
Dani Mathisen, "a Fort Worth native from a family of physicians," discovered during a routine anatomy scan with her OB-GYN, who is also her aunt, that she needed an abortion, 18 weeks into a planned pregnancy. As she explained, "Our daughter's spine was severely abnormal, her brain hadn't formed correctly, and she only had one kidney."
Texas had banned abortions after six weeks and allowed private citizens to sue anyone who helped a pregnant person access care. According to Mathisen: "My mom, also a doctor, stepped in anyway. She found a clinic in New Mexico, booked the flights and hotel, called the staff, and handed us an envelope of cash. We paid for the abortion with cash out of fear of leaving a paper trail tying Texas credit cards to out-of-state abortion care. I did everything by the book medically, but the experience still made me feel like a criminal for seeking evidence-based care for a lethal fetal diagnosis."
"I had always imagined building my career in Texas," she added. "After this, I chose an OB-GYN residency in Hawaii because I needed full-spectrum training—including abortion care—and I couldn't get that in Texas."
Mathisen wasn't alone in fleeing that state. Amanda Ducach, CEO and co-founder of an artificial intelligence startup focused on women's health, shared how she "built Ema in Houston, and Texas shaped our earliest users and our mission," but when Roe fell, she "was seven and a half months into a high-risk pregnancy."
"Suddenly, even if I were to face a life-threatening emergency, I wasn't sure I'd receive timely care. My doctors weren't sure either," Ducach detailed. "It also changed how I thought about my company, and our responsibility to the people who rely on us through our partner platforms."
"After months of legal review and deep conversations with my team, I decided to relocate both my family and Ema's headquarters to Massachusetts where abortion access is protected under state law," she continued. "I also gave employees the option to work from any location, which brought immediate relief."
"Suddenly, even if I were to face a life-threatening emergency, I wasn't sure I'd receive timely care. My doctors weren't sure either."
Elizabeth Weller also left Texas. She said that "the decision cost us $25,000+ in income, distanced us from our community, and upended the future we had envisioned. But after the pregnancy complications I faced, it was painfully clear: Texas no longer provided the basic medical care necessary to have a child."
So did Dr. Judy Levison, who spent over two decades practicing and teaching obstetrics and gynecology in the state. After "watching abortion bans turn routine medical care into a legal minefield," she retired, moved to Colorado, and "began volunteering with an abortion support group."
It's not just Texas. Kayla Smith said that she left Idaho—"where I'd lived for 13 years, gone to college, met my husband, built our careers, and wanted to grow our family"—for Washington state. She explained that just 48 hours after Idaho's ban took effect and "19 weeks into my pregnancy with my second child, we discovered that our baby had a severe, inoperable heart defect."
Tracy Young, "a first-generation American, a mother of four, and the co-founder of two technology companies," highlighted how abortion bans also outlaw proper treatment for people experiencing miscarriages. While she is based in San Francisco, California, Young began "losing a pregnancy I had deeply wanted" while traveling for work in Louisiana.
"Back home in California, my doctors told me that my body had not completed the miscarriage naturally. They prescribed misoprostol, and when that wasn't enough, performed a surgical procedure to prevent infection and complications," she said. "Today, abortion bans have made that same care illegal or heavily restricted in many states, including Louisiana where I miscarried."
Another business leader, Chris Webb, CEO and co-founder of ChowNow—an online ordering platform with offices in California and Missouri—publicly supported abortion access in 2019 by signing on to a coalition's "Don't Ban Equality" letter. After Roe's reversal, he sent out a company-wide email disclosing a girlfriend's abortion and offering to personally cover the travel costs of any employee who needed such care.
"Leaders owe employees honesty about where they stand—and action when basic rights are on the line," he said. "Abortion policies aren't just about healthcare. They're good for employers and good for people. When more companies speak up, there is safety in numbers. And in the long run, protecting your team protects your business—and is just the right thing to do."
"Reproductive rights are so crucial that Americans are uprooting their lives to ensure they have access to care."
The report's release coincided with the publication of a paper adapted from one prepared for the center by researchers who estimated "the market value of reproductive rights as capitalized into US housing markets."
The paper, published by the National Bureau of Economic Research, shows that "total abortion bans reduced rents by an average of 2.2% from July 2022 through June 2025, with the effect reaching 4.0% in the most recent year. Over the same horizon, bans increased rental vacancy rates by an average of 1.1 percentage points, with the effect reaching 1.8 percentage points in the most recent year. Estimates for home values and homeowner vacancy rates are similar in magnitude but less precise."
The center's senior director, Julia Taylor Kennedy, said that "the economic data and the firsthand accounts are telling the same story... Reproductive rights are so crucial that Americans are uprooting their lives to ensure they have access to care. That means that, for employers and policymakers, abortion bans carry measurable workforce and competitiveness implications."
Despite such findings, Republican state and federal policymakers continue to restrict reproductive freedom. In recent months, the Trump administration quietly imposed an abortion ban at the US Department of Veterans Affairs and expanded the global gag rule.
Meanwhile, at the state level last month, Tennessee Republicans introduced legislation to make abortion a capital offense, and a sheriff's office in South Carolina launched an investigation into a fetus, estimated to be just 13-15 weeks, found at a water treatment plant, highlighting the rising criminalization of pregnancy loss.
Last week, the Marion County Superior Court granted a permanent injunction preventing enforcement of Indiana's near-total abortion ban, and Republican Attorney General Todd Rokita swiftly appealed.
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Ramadan Under the Blockade: The Women of Havana’s Only Mosque
For Cuba's tiny Muslim community, the electricity blackouts, the food shortages, and the sharp reduction of public transportation make it increasingly difficult to participate in all the traditions that come with Ramadan.
Mar 08, 2026
In the Spring of 2022, I spent the last nights of Ramadan and Eid al-Adha in Havana, Cuba. I made it to Mezquita Abdallah, the only mosque in the whole country, before the sun went down—I'd missed the Eid prayer entirely, but I was able to sit around a table and talk with some of the women there. They told me what it was like to be Muslim in Cuba; many of them were converts like me, and few had Muslim families aside from the ones they made from scratch. Since I left Cuba in 2022, life there has gotten a lot worse.
International Women's Day is on March 8. Around the world, women and families are bearing the brunt of brutal US sanctions and militarism, and Cuba is no different. I've kept in touch with the women of the Havana mosque through a collection of WhatsApp messages, phone calls, and voice notes. This year, in the days leading up to the holy month of Ramadan, I conducted a series of interviews with them. In the wake of President Donald Trump's complete blockade of oil to the island, these women face an intensifying struggle to survive and provide for their families. Muslims in Cuba are entering one of the most beloved times of the year while grappling with a level of scarcity that is unimaginable to most. The women I talked to will ring in International Women's Day trying to balance the strains of living under a blockade while fasting for Ramadan.
For Cuba's tiny Muslim community, the electricity blackouts, the food shortages, and the sharp reduction of public transportation make it increasingly difficult to participate in all the traditions that come with Ramadan.
"For most people, it's very difficult to access the mosque during Ramadan,” said a 36-year-old mother. “There is no reliable transportation due to the lack of fuel. Many of us will have to stay home to break our fast because we live far away from the mosque. Without transportation, it becomes almost impossible to get there."
What will happen to the women living under the boot of the US empire if women here sit back and merely wait for the next election cycle?
Muslims who don’t live at the center of Havana’s old city (and most of them don’t) can’t pray at the mosque during the holiest month of the year. Lack of access to food on the island as a whole naturally leads to less access to non-pork options and halal meats, and the mosque is generally a place where halal foods would be distributed.
A single woman from the Mosque remarked that oftentimes, Muslims in Cuba practice their faith without any family support. "Cuban Muslim women face big challenges every day. Maintaining our religion in the correct way and surviving in the difficult economic situations," she said, "This is difficult for Muslim women who live by themselves, who are sick, or don’t get support from their families and society. And those who are elderly and alone."
She mentioned that she is the sole caretaker for her elderly mother, who is very sick. "I'm taking care of her, Alhamdulillah," she said, which means "Praise to God" or "Thank God."
The world has become somewhat familiar with the concept of blockades by watching what’s happening in Gaza. While the blockade on Gaza is enforced physically by the heavily armed Israeli military, the blockade on Cuba has been imposed economically, relying on trade threats and sanctions by the United States. Both types of blockades lead to food and medicine shortages, spiked prices, and widespread inaccessibility, causing hunger and the worsening of treatable medical conditions. Without access to proper nourishment and equipment, people die. Economic sanctions alone kill half a million people every single year. Cuba has some of the best and most capable doctors in the world, and there is no shortage of manpower—but the blockade increasingly restricts medical equipment coming into the country.
Around the world, it’s not uncommon for the responsibility of childcare and eldercare to fall on women. And when food and medicine are scarce, women carry the weight of keeping their families healthy, often faced with impossible choices.
Mayerci, another mother from the mosque, has two young children. Her son has struggled with his health for the last four years. Previously, the family was given nutritional support like supplementary milk and chicken rations, but the food shortages caused by the blockade effectively ended that extra assistance. Hospitals have run out of the zinc sulfate and asthma medication that he needs to remain healthy. On top of that, Mayerci herself is in need of surgery to treat her cystic fibrosis—but the hospitals no longer have the equipment for it. While dealing with her own illness, she has to try to make sure her children survive under increased scarcity.
"This is the life of Cubans today: if you buy food, you cannot afford clothing or medicines, and if you buy medicines, you cannot afford food," said Mayerci.
These interviews all took place about a week after the Trump administration implemented the total blockade on fuel. The conditions have only gotten worse since then, and will likely continue to decline for the foreseeable future. The effects compound for women, and evidently even more so for Muslim women at this time of the year.
While the women didn’t express any optimism for the near future, when I asked about Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio's talking points on Cuba, one of them remarked to me, "Personally, I don’t believe capitalism is the solution."
There is a glimmer of hope, though—much like we saw with Gaza, the world is mobilizing in solidarity with Cuba. In March, Cuba will receive massive shipments of solar panels that were crowdsourced by people near and far. Caravans and flotillas are also traveling to Cuba during the springtime, carrying suitcases stuffed with food and medicines to aid the Cuban people. By air, by land, and by sea, organizations like The People's Forum, CODEPINK, Progressive International, and others will attempt to provide some semblance of relief to the Cuban people.
This act of solidarity is powerful, but it won’t be enough. The solar panels won’t be able to power the entire Cuban electrical grid, and individual people can only fit so many supplies in their personal suitcases. Much like the genocide in Gaza, an end to the suffering in Cuba would require the people of the United States to rise up and fervently resist the warfare being carried out in their name by the likes of Marco Rubio and Donald Trump. With the US military intercepting ships bringing fuel to Cuba, and considering the violent history of US intervention, one cannot rule out some sort of armed US attack on Cuba. After the world set such an alarming precedent in Gaza, I can’t help but worry for my friends in Cuba—what will happen to the women living under the boot of the US empire if women here sit back and merely wait for the next election cycle?
History shows us the resilience of the Cuban people. My friends are surviving by cooking on coal, strategically using the limited hours of electricity to take care of their families—but how long can that last?
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