Why I Advocate for Abortion as a Christian Latina Mom

I was raised as an evangelical Christian and was a pastor’s kid for most of my adolescence. My dad told me that the moment he and my mom learned they’d be parents as 21-year-olds, they made a beeline for the church. As poor, young parents in the Bronx, this was their way of providing a moral foundation and safe haven for their daughters.

So, it makes sense that most of my earliest memories are in the church — running around the pews, attending Vacation Bible School as a kid, and Christian camp as a teen. I spent weekends and weeknights in youth groups or attending Christian rock concerts. My mid-20s were spent attending services at Hillsong United in New York. When I tell you I’ve been about that church life, I mean it.

The churches I grew up in were not political in nature — they didn’t talk about immigration or racial or social justice, but most of them didn’t hold back when bringing up their disgust with abortion. The abortion story I heard was always described in a singular manner: women getting rid of babies they didn’t want. Full stop. There was never any nuance or discussion around what may have led to these circumstances. And while the church often spoke of forgiveness, it felt like there was no forgiveness for the decision to obtain an abortion.

Despite being fed a steady diet of “abortion is bad” culture, I always had a sense that there was more missing from the story. Even as a teen, the idea of men standing on a pulpit and railing on and on about what a woman should do with her body didn’t sit right with me. In my 20s and early 30s, I professed, “My body, my choice,” but I also didn’t feel like I had any skin in the game.

In 2017, right before Trump took office, I marched in the Los Angeles Women’s March carrying a sign that said, “Take your hands off my pussy and my rights.” Even as I marched in solidarity with thousands of women, I knew I didn’t know much about the real struggle women faced with reproductive rights. And mostly, I didn’t feel the need to form a strong opinion on abortion because Roe v. Wade protected women.

Fast forward almost eight years, and many things have changed. In February 2022, I became a mom to the most perfect little girl. That June, the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. I knew motherhood would change me, but I never thought it would make me a stronger advocate for access to abortion. After being pregnant and giving birth, I learned firsthand just how fragile bringing life into this world can be. From your very first ultrasound, until that baby is placed on your chest, there’s a fear that anything can go wrong. I’m one of the lucky ones who delivered a healthy baby without any life-threatening complications, but for many moms, that’s not the case.

I knew motherhood would change me, but I never thought it would make me a stronger advocate for access to abortion.

Despite it being in 2024, giving birth still comes with a host of risks, and since Roe v. Wade has been overturned, women are paying the price. In states where abortion restrictions have gone into effect, there are countless stories of women who have been denied the life-saving care of an abortion. Take Amanda Zurawski of Texas: as the Associated Press reports, when Zurawski was 18 weeks pregnant, her water broke. The fetus wouldn’t survive, but because of Texas’s abortion ban, doctors would not terminate her pregnancy. As a result, she developed life-threatening sepsis three days later and was finally given an abortion. The incident left her with a permanently closed fallopian tube, impacting her ability to have more children.

Or Anya Cook of Florida, whose water broke at 16 weeks and was also told she’d lose her fetus. According to Tallahassee Democrat, because of the state’s abortion laws, she was sent home. She later miscarried in a bathroom. By the time she got to the hospital, she’d lost half the blood in her body. These are not the stories the church or Republicans will tell when they’re talking about a woman’s right to choose. Instead, you hear outlandish remarks about women aborting their fetuses at nine months — which is categorically false.

Make no mistake, taking away a woman’s reproductive freedom is a plan that has been in the works since 1973 when the US Supreme Court ruled in Roe v. Wade that a woman’s right to choose to have an abortion was protected by the Constitution under the 14th Amendment’s right to privacy. I know people who, despite disliking Trump, voted for him under the assurance that he’d instate a conservative majority who would overturn Roe v. Wade — and, in June 2022, that’s exactly what happened in Dobbs vs. Jackson Women’s Health Organization.

Today, 13 states have full abortion bans, meaning abortion at any time is illegal. These restrictive measures go after doctors, too, threatening them with fines or the potential to lose their license to practice. Many doctors are afraid to take that risk, which is already impacting access to reproductive health care in the places that need it most.

I live in Florida, where the exception for cases of rape or incest can only be upheld if the victim provides a copy of a restraining order, police report, medical record, or other documentation showing proof she was raped. Considering 2 out of every 3 rapes go unreported, this burden of responsibility can retraumatize the victim and pose a threat to their safety.

On the flip side, states like California, New York, Illinois, and Massachusetts have established themselves as “sanctuaries” for abortion access, passing laws that guarantee the right to an abortion and protect healthcare providers from legal consequences. However, another Trump presidency could put even those in the “safe” states in jeopardy. Not only has the former president been vocal against abortion, but Project 2025, a conservative potential blueprint for Trump, sets out to further gut protections of reproductive freedom. The archaic wish list includes things like restricting access to abortion medication, which is used in 63 percent of abortions; allowing hospitals to deny emergency, life-saving abortion care to pregnant patients in crisis; establishing an abortion surveillance system that forces states to report the personal details of all patients receiving abortion care; and (the most ironic of all), limiting access to contraception, you know, the very thing that helps protect against pregnancy.

At this point, I remain unconvinced that those who are against abortion rights are pro-life. I believe they are anti-choice, and they are long overdue for a rebrand.

You see, in church, I heard things like “love thy neighbor.” I learned there should be justice for those who have been persecuted, that we should feed those in need, and that we should welcome foreigners. Meanwhile, I’ve watched as the Christian right wing has stood by as children are separated at the border from their parents; as kids fearfully step onto school campuses, unsure if a gunman could change their lives forever; as corporate greed continues to supersede the demands of environmental protections, and the list goes on. There is a Benedictine nun, Sister Joan Chittister, who is anti abortion but also recognizes the flaws in the movement and summed it up perfectly. She said, “I do not believe that just because you are opposed to abortion, that that makes you pro-life. In fact, I think in many cases, your morality is deeply lacking if all you want is a child born but not a child fed, a child educated, a child housed. And why would I think that you don’t? Because you don’t want any tax money to go there. That’s not pro-life. That’s pro-birth. We need a much broader conversation on what the morality of pro-life is.”

Yes, the anti abortion movement has its lens focused solely on birth, but I think they’ve lost Jesus in the process. How are we protecting all God’s creatures beyond gestation? What is being done to help people out of poverty? When will we get mandated paid parental leave? When will we stop aiding wars that lead to the death of many innocent people? When will our maternal health system be fixed so women, especially Black women, don’t have to worry about whether or not they are going to survive childbirth in this country? This fight is not about “protecting life” it is about control — controlling women, to be exact. And that’s a fight I cannot get behind. I think God understands that and loves me just the same.

Several states will decide the fate of reproductive rights next week. Nebraska, Montana, Arizona, Colorado, Florida, Maryland, Missouri, Nevada, South Dakota, and New York all have abortion on the ballot. I know I’m saying “yes on 4” in Florida because I don’t want my daughter to live in a state where women aren’t given dominion over their bodies. I’m a mom by choice, for choice, and that will never change.

Jessica Molina is a a Puerto Rican writer and filmmaker dedicated to amplifying diverse narratives within the Latine community. Across more than 15 years of experience, she’s directed and creatively produced short-form documentaries for today’s leading artists, including Karol G, Doechii, and Becky G. Her impactful work has been featured across platforms like Spotify, Remezcla, HipLatina, Revolt TV, and Latina magazine. .