Honoring Juneteenth and the Birth Experiences of Black American Families

Every Juneteenth, my people gather to celebrate the long-delayed freedom of enslaved Black Americans in Galveston, Texas—freedom that came two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation. It is a moment to honor survival, resistance, and joy. But it is also a time to reflect and prioritize the work still unfinished.

This Juneteenth, I am thinking about freedom as a condition not fully realized—especially in the delivery rooms, clinics, and hospitals where Black American mothers continue to die at staggering rates.

And I am thinking about Callie House—a Black American woman, widow, and mother who, in the shadow of Emancipation, had the courage to demand reparations. She organized hundreds of thousands of formerly enslaved men and women and challenged the U.S. government to make good on its promises. She understood that freedom without repair is not justice.

As a mother working within the Black maternal health space, I see how often this truth is neglected—even by those who claim to fight for equity. We talk about disparities, but not about their origins. We gather in coalitions and conferences, but too often avoid naming the root cause of birth inequity in this country: the enduring legacy and continuing vestiges of chattel slavery in the United States.

Black American maternal health outcomes are not simply the result of individual provider bias, gaps in prenatal care or skin color. They are the modern-day consequence of centuries of reproductive violence and systemic harm and neglect: enslaved women forced to give birth under brutal conditions, used as experimental subjects, and denied agency over their own bodies, while having their families torn apart. This trauma never healed. It was inherited and continues to impact the birthing experiences of Black American women and families.

And yet, within the broader birth equity movement, the specific experience of Black Americans descended from U.S. chattel slavery is frequently erased, diluting the historical specificity of our suffering. This flattening is not accidental. It is a form of narrative control. It allows institutions to posture as inclusive while avoiding accountability for their role in maintaining systems of oppression and continuing the harm.

Yes, Juneteenth is a celebration, but it is also a mirror. It forces our country to confront what freedom, or the lack thereof, still costs Black Americans. And nowhere is that cost more visible than in the statistics we’ve become numb to: Black women are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women. Our babies are twice as likely not to survive their first year. These are not just numbers—they are funerals. They are broken families. They are stories of freedom denied, again and again.

We must also honor the legacy of the Granny Midwives—Black American women who carried forward generations of birth wisdom and kept our families alive in the face of slavery and ongoing racial terrorism, their hands and knowledge embodying resistance and love.

We must move beyond awareness to action that centers addressing the human rights harms and atrocities done to Black Americans:

• Reparative investment in Black led birth centers, midwifery schools, and community-rooted maternal care.

• Funding perinatal care for Black American families and funding pipeline programs expanding the Black American workforce providing direct pre and postpartum care to families. 

• Policies that center Black American families and U.S. chattel slavery and its vestiges as a social determinant of health in their design and implementation.

• Truth-telling that does not shy away from naming U.S. chattel slavery as the foundation of the Black maternal health crisis in this country.

Callie House was jailed and surveilled for daring to speak this truth. We owe it to her—and to ourselves—not to let her legacy be forgotten. She didn’t wait for permission to demand justice. Neither should we.

This Juneteenth, may we honor her and all Black Americans by telling the whole truth, even when it's uncomfortable. Because if Black American birth is still unsafe, then freedom will continue to remain elusive.