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The audacity is both breathtaking and infuriating. 

Last week, we held space for Black mamas—celebrating our magic, our resilience, and our right to exist in a world that often feels designed to erase us. While we were honoring the sacred work of Black birth workers and doulas during Black Maternal Health Week, Silvia Lopez-Navarro, a white woman with a Hispanic last name, filed a federal class-action lawsuit against the city of Pasadena in California.

To be clear, Lopez-Navarro isn’t trying to improve maternal health in California by suing for better care or safer hospitals. She is suing because she wasn’t allowed into the Black Infant Health (BIH) program—a statewide initiative providing culturally specific group support, social services, and health education designed to lower the disproportionately high rates of death and disease among Black mothers and their babies.

Using the language of “discrimination” to attack a program meant to keep Black babies and Black mothers from dying is a particular kind of violence. It is the height of white grievance—a demand to be centered in a space specifically carved out to address a crisis that doesn’t touch her. White women enter the birthing space with a suite of invisible protections. They are seen as “naturally” maternal and fragile. Their pain is believed. Their concerns are addressed. They don’t have to worry about a medical system that views their bodies as impenetrable or their lives as disposable. 

When a white woman walks into a hospital, the institution sees a life worth saving by default. For Black women, that worth is something we have to argue for and prove while in active labor. And many times, we don’t make it out of that argument alive.

Lopez-Navarro and her attorneys claiming “reverse racism” is a lie. Full stop. Racism is about power—the marriage of prejudice and institutional authority. Because Black women do not hold the systemic power to marginalize white women through law or healthcare policy, the concept of “reverse racism” is a sociological impossibility. 

Black women are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women, regardless of how much money they have or where they went to school. To suggest that a program addressing this specific, lethal gap is “discriminatory” is like suggesting that the fire department is being unfair to houses that aren’t currently burning while firefighters are actively trying to save a home that is engulfed in flames.

The numbers in California tell a story that “race-neutral” lawyers want to bury. Even in a city as wealthy as San Francisco, Black infants represent only 4% of births but account for 20% of all infant deaths. Across the state, Black mothers are nearly four times more likely to die of pregnancy-related causes than other groups. One in every seven Black infants in California is born too soon and too small. These are not “stand-ins” for need; they are the visceral results of a state that fails Black families at every turn.

We have to ask why Black mamas are being targeted when California funds several culturally specific programs for other marginalized groups (as it should). There are no high-profile lawsuits filed against Latinx-centered initiatives like Semilla Sagrada or Visión y Compromiso, nor against the Promotora-led work at Esperanza Community Housing. These programs are necessary and beautiful, and yet they remain untouched. Instead, the vultures at the Pacific Legal Foundation have set their sights on the one program dedicated to the specific, fatal risk of being pregnant while Black. It’s because Black women are consistently treated as low-hanging fruit—the easiest population to attack because our survival is seen as a political inconvenience instead of a human right.

There is a long, ugly history of using Black women’s bodies as testing grounds for legal and medical theories, only to discard us when we no longer serve the narrative. From J. Marion Sims performing experimental surgeries on enslaved women without anesthesia to the theft of Henrietta Lacks’ cells, our bodies have been harvested for “universal” medical progress while we are denied basic care. Even the eugenics-driven “Mississippi Appendectomies” of the 20th century were backed by legal theories that deemed Black motherhood a social burden. This lawsuit by Lopez-Navarro is just the latest chapter in that history of state-sanctioned extraction and neglect.

The data on “weathering” shows that living in a racist society physically ages our bodies. Pregnancy is a high-stakes gamble for Black women in a way it never is for white women. These disparities are the reasons programs like BIH exist. They provide a “sanctuary of care”—a refuge where Black women don’t have to perform or defend our humanity just to get prenatal support. It’s a space where the unique stressors of being Black in America are understood as clinical risk factors that require specific, targeted support.

The legal strategy in Lopez-Navarro’s case is transparent. By framing a program meant to address life-threatening systemic racism as “discrimination,” the suit ignores the visceral reality that being pregnant while Black carries risks that socioeconomic status alone cannot explain. We are seeing a dominant group reacting to the loss of total exclusivity. When equity is introduced, those accustomed to privilege often mistake it for oppression. 

The Pacific Legal Foundation is arguing that if white people can’t be the center of the story, then the story should not exist at all. This is the zero-sum logic of white supremacy: a belief that any gain for Black people—even the gain of not dying in childbirth—must be a loss for someone else.

California State Public Health Officer Erica Pan stated in February 2026 that the state is committed to “confronting these inequities directly” through culturally congruent programs. Calling this a survival strategy carries far more weight than viewing it as a mere policy recommendation. But lawsuits like this want to scrub the reality of systemic racism from the lawbooks so they can pretend the playing field is level while we’re still gasping for air. Dr. Joia Crear-Perry of the National Birth Equity Collaborative makes our reality plain: “Racism, not race, is the risk factor.”

If we allow the legal system to treat a life-saving program like a crime, we lose more than a few local offices in Pasadena. We lose the precedent for any race-conscious solution to a race-based problem. We jeopardize the Black Maternal Health Momnibus Act and the hard-won funding that follows it. We lose the ability to name the harm, which means we lose the ability to heal it.

The work of liberation is never just about one policy; it is about the revolutionary act of choosing ourselves in a world that would rather we not exist. We do not need “colorblind” care in a world that sees in high contrast. We need care that is as specific and as fierce as the love we have for our children.

As we move forward, we must support the birth workers who are on the front lines, fighting not just the biology of birth, but the sociology of hate. We cannot allow the law to be used as a weapon to strip away our sanctuary. Instead, we must harden our resolve to protect the spaces that protect us.

The disparities are clear, the experts have spoken, and the data is undeniable. Racism is a power dynamic that kills, and programs that address it are life-saving. We need the right to breathe, to birth, and to stay alive. We need to protect the sanctuaries we’ve built for ourselves, because as this lawsuit proves, no one else is going to do it for us.

SEE ALSO:

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White Grievance And The Direct Attack On Black Maternal Health was originally published on newsone.com