Black maternal mortality is often described as a “modern health crisis.” But to understand why the crisis exists, you have to look backward. The disparities we see today didn’t appear out of nowhere — they were shaped over centuries by unequal care, false medical beliefs, and systems that valued some families over others.
This isn’t about biology. It’s about history.
Black women have led families, built communities, delivered babies, and cared for others for generations. But the medical systems around them were often built without them — and too often, against them.
Understanding Black maternal mortality means understanding the long roots beneath it.
Early physicians developed myths about Black women’s bodies — including the racist claim that they felt less pain. These ideas were never scientific, but they shaped treatment for centuries and still influence care today.
Medical experimentation, forced reproduction, poor birthing conditions, and forced labor during pregnancy left deep intergenerational consequences.
Black midwives — especially in the South — delivered babies safely for generations. When professional obstetrics pushed midwives out, many families lost skilled, trusted care.
Black families faced segregated wards, unequal resources, and dismissive treatment. These patterns shaped trust, access, and outcomes long before modern medicine existed.
From Jim Crow to redlining to employment discrimination, Black families often had less access to consistent medical support — not because of personal choices, but because of policy.
These aren’t old stories. They’re the roots of the present.
Black women today are:
And Black women with college degrees still face higher maternal mortality rates than White women without a high school diploma — a statistic that makes the real cause impossible to deny.
This is not about income, education, or “risk factors.”
This is about systems.
The core of the crisis — shaped by unequal care, implicit bias, and medical myths rooted in slavery.
Partners, children, and entire communities carry the emotional and economic impact of birth trauma and maternal loss.
Often navigate complex medical assumptions and biases during pregnancy and birth.
Where many labor and delivery units have closed, worsening outcomes for Black families in those regions.
Face both racial bias and cultural or linguistic barriers to care.
This is a crisis with wider effects — but a crisis that lands hardest on Black women.
Black women’s symptoms are more likely to be minimized or misinterpreted.
Complications like hemorrhage, infection, and hypertension often occur after the birth.
Hospital closures, transportation gaps, insurance barriers, and provider shortages affect many communities — but hit Black families hardest.
Chronic stress from racism has measurable physical effects on pregnancy and birth outcomes.
Generations of medical harm make trust difficult — and trust is essential to safe care.
This isn’t a mystery. The mechanisms are well-documented.
The problem is not that the causes are unknown — it’s that the causes are uncomfortable.
Maternal mortality is not just a “women’s issue.”
When mothers die, entire communities feel the impact:
The ripple effect reaches far beyond the hospital walls.
Despite the crisis, there are powerful movements pushing for better outcomes:
These changes didn’t come from institutions alone — they came from the families and advocates who refused to let the crisis be ignored.
Because the data alone doesn’t tell the full story.
Understanding Black maternal mortality means understanding:
This crisis wasn’t created by Black women — and it won’t be solved without honoring their experience and leadership.
Black Mamas Matter Alliance
https://blackmamasmatter.org/
CDC — Maternal Mortality Statistics
https://cdc.gov/
NMAAHC — Medical Racism Collections
https://nmaahc.si.edu/
NIH — Reproductive Health Disparities
https://www.nih.gov/
National Birth Equity Collaborative
https://birthequity.org/