Last month, Tori Bowie, an Olympic medalist who was named the fastest woman on Earth in 2017, died in childbirth along with her daughter in her Florida home. Bowie’s death is yet another stagnant reminder of the rising maternal mortality rate–and that Black women in America die at 2.6 times the rate of white women. Worse, in our nation’s largest city of New York, Black birthing people die at eight to 12 times the rate of white mothers.
Nobody is safe. Many stats about severe maternal morbidity and mortality are unsurprising, in that rates are worse for those who are poor, underserved, and living in remote locations (not to mention in states with abortion bans). At the same time, wealthy, well-resourced, urban Black folks die, too.
Tori Bowie represents everything the American public might expect of a healthy, young mother. At 32, she’d achieved an elite athletic career. She worked her way out of Rankin County, Mississippi to attend university on a full athletic scholarship, later earning gold medals in the 2016 Olympic Games and 2017 World Championships.
For Black moms, it doesn't matter how much money, education, or access to care we have. When we enter the hospital, we are simply just another Black body, subject to racism, misogyny, biases, and outdated medical practices.
An acute crisis
U.S. maternal deaths have nearly doubled in just three years, from 2018 to 2021. A horrific situation is rapidly getting worse. This must not be normalized.
As founder and CEO of a women’s and maternal health-tech company, I’m furious. I feel called to disrupt the mainstream dialogue with refrains about “doing better” that do nothing. The Momnibus Act, which has been on the House floor for almost three years, still has not become law.
We can't wait any longer. It’s time to correct the alarming rate of maternal deaths and invest in research and resources. Community-based organizations, grassroots initiatives, and small-but-mighty companies instill hope–but they are systematically underfunded.
I run a virtual clinic for prenatal and postpartum patients. We work every day to create hope amidst this crisis–providing critical services otherwise too expensive or inaccessible. Our patients range from tech executives to moms on Medicaid who utilize our wraparound care that supplements the OB/GYN. They look to us for life-saving support from doulas, lactation consultants, pelvic floor specialists, and C-section recovery experts.
As often the only truly listening ear, our providers fill in the many care gaps experienced by birthing people. We hear what doctors don't–and see what hospitals might miss.
We recognize that the maternal health machine of America is running on empty. Since COVID-19, OBGYNs have been burnt out. Nurses are understaffed, overworked, and underpaid. Midwives are in steep shortage. Since 2014, some 18 labor and delivery units are closing each year. And Doulas are rarely paid a living wage–unless they work for Hollywood.
My experience building hospital pilots confirms this trend. While we try to increase access to doulas in at-risk populations, potential risks trigger hospital lawyers and prevent swift action. Doulas improve maternal health outcomes, but nobody wants to pay for them. Healthcare payer systems in the U.S. work against care that is human-centered and long-term.
More deaths are coming
Normally in healthcare, we follow the value chain. The largest insurance companies, hospitals, and governments are relied upon for change. Like all giants, they’re slow. Those powers enabled this mess in the first place. They’re reactive, not preventive. We cannot expect the legacy giants of health care to fix a giant legacy problem.
Even well-intentioned policies have failed. For instance, a $32 million federal program created to improve rural maternity care intended to serve Black mothers missed them. Zero sites funded by the agency actually serve mothers in the Southeast, the most concentrated area of predominantly Black rural communities, according to the Kaiser Family Foundation.
As it is Pride month, we must remember queer pioneers like Marsha P. Johnson, Phill Wilson, and Barbara Smith, who used grassroots action to solve problems affecting the queer community. The Stonewall Riots in New York City likely did more for LGBTQ+ rights in America than any prior efforts at legislation.
If we want to solve this health crisis, if we value parents and children in America, we will go bottom up, not top down. More deaths are coming. We must stop relying on slow-moving large corporations and governments and bank on smaller, more nimble organizations, investors, high net-worth individuals, and guerilla-style public health campaigns.
Such a movement can only succeed if key players from the top break out of their massive institutions to lend knowledge, funding, and a hand. We urgently need investment from more foundations, angel investors, venture capitalists, system-minded federal grantmakers, and for-profit entities with the power to pilot change.
Most importantly, we must organize as a nation to show our government leaders, hospitals, and insurance companies that enough truly is enough. This is not a call to action, but a cry for help.
We can't lose one more Tori or Baby Bowie. We can't leave one more family, like Kira Johnson's or Jenny Eggers’, without a heartbeat.
America has failed to act soundly on the current awful and declining pregnancy outcomes. This maternal health crisis demands action now. We need research, private (not just public or payer-driven) funding, direct action, and storytelling about maternal and Black maternal health.
Not one more mother.
Alison Greenberg is the CEO and co-founder of Ruth Health. Alison is a three-time tech founder, healthcare and A.I. strategy expert, and health and maternal health justice advocate.
Raye Parris, RN, CBS, Certified Holistic Doula, is a maternal-child health advocate dedicated to improving outcomes and equity in maternal and infant care. She is committed to empowering families and communities through evidence-based education and compassionate support.
Grace Wickerson is the health equity policy manager at the Federation of American Scientists where they work on embedding equity in health policies, with an eye toward leveraging data and technology as key tools for accelerating change.
Andrea Palmer is passionate about mental health, accessibility, and health equity. She is the CEO and co-founder of Awake Labs, which develops enabling technology to enhance everyday well-being for people with cognitive disabilities.
The opinions expressed in Fortune.com commentary pieces are solely the views of their authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and beliefs of Fortune.
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