The Black Maternal Health Crisis and Why Women Need to Be Believed
Some women walk into healthcare settings already preparing themselves not to be believed.
Preparing themselves to explain their pain twice.
Preparing themselves to advocate harder.
Preparing themselves to “stay calm” while suffering.
Preparing themselves to minimize their emotions so they are not labeled dramatic.
Preparing themselves to leave with more questions than answers.
And for many Black women, this is not paranoia.
It is lived experience.
Recently, Ontario introduced Bill 115, the Black Health Equity Act, 2026 — proposed legislation designed to address anti-Black racism in healthcare, improve culturally safe care, strengthen accountability, and create more equitable healthcare outcomes for Black communities across the province. (Legislative Assembly of Ontario)
The proposed bill includes:
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the creation of a Black Health Equity Council,
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culturally responsive mental health supports,
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workforce development for Black healthcare professionals,
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anti-racism healthcare accountability measures,
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and systems for survivors of anti-Black racism in healthcare to access justice. (Legislative Assembly of Ontario)
For many people, this announcement may feel new.
But inside Black communities — especially among doulas, caregivers, wellness workers, mothers, aunties, and women quietly carrying painful experiences — these conversations have been happening for years.
At Yoni Spa, we have been having these conversations for years.
Conversations around:
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women not being listened to,
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pain being minimized,
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reproductive concerns being dismissed,
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emotional distress being overlooked,
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and women feeling forced to “figure it out themselves” when support systems failed them.
One woman once shared with me that she repeatedly spoke to her doctor about pain during intimacy and felt dismissed instead of supported. She remembered a doctor laughing and responding casually instead of investigating her concerns seriously.
That moment stayed with me.
Not because it was shocking.
But because it was familiar.
Too many Black women have stories where they left medical environments feeling unheard instead of helped.
And over time, communities adapt.
Just like many Black communities created systems like the susu in response to financial exclusion, many women also turned toward community-centered wellness practices when they did not feel safe, seen, or fully supported inside traditional healthcare systems.
We leaned on:
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aunties,
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doulas,
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herbal wisdom,
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community caregivers,
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church mothers,
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wellness circles,
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and women willing to share openly about their experiences.
Not because community should replace healthcare.
But because many women were trying to survive gaps in care while searching for understanding.
This is part of why holistic wellness practices became so important in many Black communities.
Women were trying to reconnect with their bodies after years of being ignored.
And this conversation is much bigger than physical health.
Maternal health is mental health.
Reproductive health is emotional health.
Being dismissed repeatedly impacts the nervous system too.
When a woman feels unsafe advocating for herself, the body remembers that.
Stress lives somewhere.
Fear lives somewhere.
Grief lives somewhere.
Medical trauma lives somewhere.
As doulas and wellness workers, we see this often.
Women entering pregnancy already exhausted.
Women carrying birth anxiety.
Women struggling postpartum in silence.
Women minimizing symptoms because they are afraid of being dismissed again.
Women trying to appear “strong” while emotionally overwhelmed.
And this does not only affect adults.
I remember trying to access therapy support for my children after a traumatic experience and being refused help. Eventually, I turned to community support to help them process what they were feeling emotionally.
For many Black families, this has historically been the role of the church as well — providing hope, emotional support, prayer, and community during difficult times.
And while that support matters deeply, many people were still left needing practical healing frameworks, therapy access, emotional tools, and safe spaces to process what they had survived.
Sometimes people were given enough hope to survive another day, but not always enough support to fully heal.
That realization became part of why I created Yoni Spa.
We needed conversations around women’s sexual health.
We needed safe spaces.
We needed body literacy.
We needed emotionally intelligent wellness education.
We needed spaces where women could speak honestly without shame.
And later, that same realization contributed to the creation of Purpose Playground — a space focused on education, personal development, digital literacy, and helping people move beyond survival mode with practical direction and support.
Because people deserve more than inspiration alone.
People deserve tools.
People deserve language.
People deserve understanding.
People deserve access.
That is why this legislation matters.
Not because a bill alone solves generations of mistrust and inequity.
But because acknowledgment matters.
Listening matters.
Accountability matters.
And culturally safe care matters.
The Black Women’s Institute for Health has continued advocating for stronger healthcare protections because many Black women report delaying care due to fear of discrimination or dismissal. (Spon)
That should concern all of us.
Because healthcare only works when people feel safe enough to seek it.
Modern-day doulas understand something deeply:
sometimes advocacy is part of care.
Sometimes emotional safety is part of care.
Sometimes listening is part of care.
Sometimes witnessing someone honestly is part of care.
And often, one of the most healing things a woman can hear is:
“I believe you.”
The direction we are going must include:
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culturally safe healthcare,
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emotionally intelligent care systems,
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accessible mental health support,
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accountability,
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representation,
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and community-informed wellness practices.
It must include spaces where Black women do not have to fight to prove they are hurting before receiving support.
Because healing begins differently when women are finally listened to.
And for many women, being believed is part of the healing too.
Sources & Further Reading