Abortion laws in the United States have undergone significant changes over the past several decades. For nearly fifty years, Roe v. Wade (1973) protected the right to abortion before fetal viability, allowing individuals to make decisions about their pregnancies without excessive government interference. However, the 2022 Supreme Court ruling in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization overturned Roe, removing federal protections and granting individual states the power to regulate or ban abortion as they see fit (Gale, n.d.).
Following Dobbs, many states enacted restrictive abortion laws, while others strengthened abortion rights. As of 2024, over a dozen states have implemented near-total abortion bans, often with few exceptions for rape, incest, or the health of the pregnant person. In contrast, states like California, New York, and Illinois have expanded access by enacting laws that protect both residents and out-of-state patients seeking abortions (Guttmacher Institute, 2023).
The Dobbs ruling also sparked a broader debate about reproductive healthcare, including concerns about access to contraceptives, in vitro fertilization (IVF), and maternal healthcare. Critics argue that restricting abortion disproportionately affects low-income individuals and marginalized communities, who may struggle to travel for care. Studies show that states with abortion bans often experience higher maternal mortality rates, as pregnant individuals face increased risks from carrying unwanted or nonviable pregnancies (WHO, 2021).
As abortion access continues to evolve, advocacy groups, healthcare providers, and lawmakers remain divided on the best path forward. While some states push for national abortion restrictions, others work to ensure reproductive rights remain protected for future generations.
Abortion laws vary widely across the world, with some countries offering full access while others enforce strict bans. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), approximately 73 million abortions occur worldwide each year, with rates differing based on legal restrictions (WHO, 2021).
In countries with legal abortion access, such as Canada and Sweden, abortion rates have decreased due to widespread contraception availability and comprehensive sex education. In contrast, nations with severe abortion restrictions, such as El Salvador and Poland, experience higher rates of unsafe abortions, leading to significant health risks and maternal deaths (CFR, 2023).
Research indicates that legal restrictions do not eliminate abortion but instead force individuals to seek unsafe procedures. A study by the Guttmacher Institute found that in regions with restrictive laws, abortion rates increased by 12% between 1990 and 2019, while they decreased by 43% in countries where abortion remained accessible (Guttmacher Institute, 2020).
Countries that have recently liberalized their abortion laws, such as Argentina, Ireland, and Colombia, have done so following widespread public advocacy and legal challenges. These shifts highlight the ongoing global conversation surrounding reproductive rights and the impact of policy decisions on public health.
“When I was 25, I had two abortions in the span of a year with my then boyfriend—now husband—after the birth control I took regularly at the same time each day failed, twice. Having two abortions in a short time was difficult in a way that having any unplanned medical procedure twice in a year would be difficult. Not once did I ever question or feel badly about my decision, and I have never regretted my choice. Women should not have to defend or explain their reason for having an abortion. It’s our choice and right and no one needs to know the reasons behind a personal medical decision. I was by no means ready to become a parent at 25, something I know even more now as I near 40 with two young children. It was surely a difficult moment in my life, but for reasons beyond the abortions. Before I got pregnant, I had just finished a demanding two years of graduate school, was deeply unhappy in my job, and depressed. The abortions exacerbated what was already a difficult time, but in no way caused it on its own. When I became pregnant the first time, I acted quickly to make plans to terminate the pregnancy and moved on. I can’t remember the shock of becoming pregnant a second time but know that it shook me. I had the second D&C at a hospital, instead of the clinic I had visited earlier that year where protesters stood outside. The hospital had a discrete parking lot where no one was present save a guard at the door, and was a completely different experience with the exception of the same bullet proof glass standing between me and the check-in desk and a group recovery room. I felt respected and treated as a patient with (nearly) all the privacy that’s afforded by other standard medical procedures. I don’t know of any other instance where patients are expected to recover from a medical procedure in a group setting. The fact that so few hospitals in the United States provide abortions—reportedly only 5% or less—has only increased anti-choice attacks by isolating abortion from other routine medical services and deserves our attention. The recent abortion restrictions and bans in Alabama, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi, Ohio, Arkansas, and Utah are frightening and a direct challenge to Roe. There are similar bills pending in Louisiana, Missouri, South Carolina, Tennessee, and bills that have been presented but not yet voted on in Maryland, Texas, West Virginia, and New York. Women in all 50 states are affected by these measures. It is imperative that women AND MEN take action against bills attacking women’s reproduction rights and defend a woman’s right to choose and have full autonomy over her body. White male legislators governing women’s bodies—particularly women of color in southern states—is beyond terrifying and unconstitutional. I’ll work tirelessly to defend abortion rights for all women—including my own daughter—and urge you to do the same. Use your voice, wallet, and most importantly, your vote.”
“I had an abortion when my twins were 7 months old. Finding out I was pregnant so recently after giving birth was a total shock. I was breastfeeding nonstop, hadn’t had a period since becoming pregnant, and was still recovering from a vaginal delivery and a C-section. Everyday, I thought ‘I can NOT do this.’ I was pretty sure we would make it through twin life eventually, but every day was a struggle—physically, emotionally, financially. When I found out I was pregnant, I knew immediately that I was not capable of having another baby. That I wasn’t ready physically to bear another child. That we couldn’t afford it. That our marriage would strain (more) under the weight of having three kids under two. It is incredibly hard to give two infants what they need. Hard to comfort them, hold them, feed them, bathe them. Even now, it’s hard to listen when they’re both talking at the same time, both want to play with me. My attention and energy and body was constantly divided in two. How could I divide it in three? I could not be a good mother to three infants. I had an abortion because I was barely hanging on. You don’t have to agree that I made the right decision. Lord knows I hide my pregnancy and abortion from everyone, especially my Christian in-laws. I wasn’t ashamed. But I was exhausted and deeply sad and confused and wasn’t up for hearing other people’s judgement. As I read my friends’ online discussions about the new abortion laws, I keep coming back to this: How was I supposed to do it? Because I could not figure out how I could physically go to my neonatal visits with two infants in tow. I couldn’t figure out how I would manage bedrest or another NICU stay with three infants. How would I ask for another maternity leave? What would I do if we had another set of twins? Do you know how I could have done all that? Would you have been willing to go to those appointments with me? Hold my babies 24:7 with me? Hire me to work from home? Pay my medical bills? Come over every night at bedtime while I figured out how to nurse three babies to sleep? If not, then please reflect on the fact that I had to make this choice for myself and my family because I ALONE had to manage the consequences. Not my governor. Not my anti-choice OB-GYN. Me. Having an abortion was deeply sad, but it was the best of two bad options. And until someone can provide me and other women with a better one, I deserve to make my own choice.”
“I’ve had two abortions a decade apart from one another. The pregnancies, even in their very early state, affected my body differently; the first time, it was weightless with fear, and the second, I was too exhausted to move, out of fear or any other emotion. Both times, I was in school, for my undergrad degree and then for my masters. I had no support, no family, but both times, I had a boyfriend who was willing to drop his life to help support my decision. I wasn’t in a place where I was ready for motherhood: I knew I couldn’t give up the kind of independence I needed to ensure my child would have a better childhood than I did. It wasn’t to say I never wanted kids–just that I didn’t want kids then. I have never regretted my abortions, not never looked back, but never regretted them. There’s a difference. With what is happening with our country and in particular, Alabama and Missouri, it hurts me to think of what my 22-year-old self would have done if she didn’t have the choices she did in New York at the time. My father died when I was a toddler and my mother left me with my grandparents until I was 7 years old. When she finally came back for me, she had another family and two kids. I lived with her until I was 17 and have been on my own since. Who would have helped me? How would I finish college? Everything is frightening at that age. If I could give my younger self advice, I’d say, ‘Don’t be frightened. You are not alone, there is an army of women going through what you’re going through. Do not hate yourself, do not hate what is happening, it’s going to be okay. It is okay.”
“I. Had. An. Abortion. I do not need to rationalize why by telling the story of why I did it. The reasoning is nobody’s business. It’s my body, not theirs. Should laws dictate what women (and men) do with their bodies? No. I will never regret my decision.”
“I was in my sophomore year of university in Florida. He was my boyfriend. The condom broke. I took the morning after pill. It didn’t work. My body rejected the pregnancy. I spent the time leading up to my abortion sleeping on the floor of my dorm bathroom—vomiting and crying. I had to check myself into the ER for dehydration. When the intake nurse found out why I was so sick—’I’m pregnant. I’m not keeping it’—she refused to help me, so her colleague set me up on an IV drip. My roommate drove me to Planned Parenthood. I don’t remember much, except for apple juice and having to leave through the back door because of the protestors outside. I went home to my parents afterwards. They knew. My mom was the first person I told. I had lost over 20 pounds in the course of a few weeks. I remember standing naked in front of a mirror in the bathroom and crying. I didn’t recognize myself. I didn’t know how to feel about myself. I knew I had done the right thing, but there were still feelings of shame and confusion. I returned to university a few days later. My boyfriend did not. He had told his parents what had happened and they pulled him out of school. They were deeply religious people. This was relayed to me by friends of his—I never heard from him again.”
“The past few days have felt like years, and those years have set us back a lifetime. I don’t know where I would be—or who I would be—if I hadn’t had safe access to abortion. I do not regret my choice. Reproductive care is health care. The right to choose is a human right. Challenge heteronomy. Champion autonomy. Check in on your female friends. Listen to their stories. Support their breath. Take the time to educate yourself on the risks associated with these bans. Chances are you know someone who has had an abortion. Or who has miscarried. Or who has a uterus. Be compassionate. Be understanding. Be aware that these laws will serve as a tipping point for further systematic inequality, affecting those in marginalized communities the most. I am sharing my story because I can. And because there are many who can’t.”
“I had an abortion two years ago. While I don’t regret my decision, it was a devastating loss and the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make and I’m still struggling with the grief. Every time I see a baby, hear someone talking about babies, hear joking conversations about pregnancy scares and making light of not using protection, it’s triggering for me. I’ve been wanting to share my story for a long time, but have been so scared to, partly because I think it’s hard for me to accept this as part of my story, and sharing it makes it more real. And then the obvious fear of rejection and judgement. I want to share my story because when I don’t, it feels like I’m hiding this huge secret and a huge part of who I am, and that feels icky and unauthentic. I also think we need to be talking openly about this more, and it would be hypocritical of me to try to educate people on abortions without admitting that I had one myself.”
“I had an abortion when I was 23 and I had the advantage of access to a clinic that was affordable and a safe procedure that I recovered from quickly and without complication. At the time I had my abortion, I was jobless and in grad school. Having a child would have been devastating to me if I had been forced to carry to term. Instead, I had autonomy over my own body and my life, I was able to finish graduate school, get my masters degree, and start a practice helping others to have autonomy over their bodies and their reproductive health. Even with these advantages, it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I can’t imagine the pain and trauma of not having these advantages—of not having access to a safe, legal, or affordable procedure, of being forced to carry a child as the result of rape or incest, of being even younger than I was and being forced to stay pregnant. And whenever we talk about these issues, we have to address the fact that black mothers are 3-to-4 times as likely to die from complications related to pregnancy, so banning abortion disproportionately affects them. Abortion IS healthcare, it’s as simple as that.”
“I’m proud of a difficult decision I had to make when I was 15. I’m incredibly grateful for those who stood by me when I did and for those that choice to slander me and talk behind my back—thank you for the life lesson and teaching me who my real family and friends are. I’ve shared why I made that choice before—today’s not the day to share it—today’s the day to stand and protect our rights to make our own medical decisions. Women have abortions for many reasons. Some can’t provide, some aren’t ready, some are sick, some had a stillbirth or their pregnancy is killing them… But guess what? The reason doesn’t fucking matter. And it’s none of your business. A woman is the ONLY one who owns their body and deserves the right to make any and all choices that affect their body and wellbeing.”
State bans on abortion throughout pregnancy. (2025, March 5). Guttmacher Institute.
www.guttmacher.org/state-policy/explore/state-policies-abortion-bans
Scholarly articles on abortion: history, legislation & activism. (n.d.).
www.gale.com/open-access/abortion
World Health Organization: WHO. (2024, May 17). Abortion.
www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/abortion
Staff, W. a. F. P. P. (2024, March 8). Abortion Law: global comparisons. Council on Foreign Relations.
www.cfr.org/article/abortion-law-global-comparisons
Center for Reproductive Rights. (2024, May 23). The World’s Abortion Laws - Center for Reproductive Rights.
reproductiverights.org/maps/worlds-abortion-laws/
Feher, E. (2023, March 5). Abortion stories - 10 women share. MOTHER.