Like many others, I read last month’s news in horror: The Alabama Supreme Court ruled that fertilized eggs could be afforded the same rights as children. The fallout from the ruling spread swiftly, from health care systems and clinics suspending in vitro fertilization (IVF) treatment to distraught families seeking to transport their embryos out of state.   

At the dinner table, my spouse and I discussed how distressing this must be for people eagerly seeking to have children with the help of IVF clinics. We know how arduous, painful and stressful the process is; we are one of the lucky few who were able to successfully have a baby after one round of IVF treatment. After the Alabama ruling, my initial feelings were of sadness for those who suddenly found themselves as victims in a bigger political war waged against bodily autonomy.   

What this ruling tells me is that the anti-abortion movement isn’t just about taking away our right to have an abortion. It’s about controlling our reproductive freedom, including our ability and choice to have children.  

This is why, 30 years ago, a group of pioneering Black women founded the reproductive justice movement. They knew that the anti-reproductive rights movement was not just about abortion. These wise women had a clear and holistic vision to fight for our right to not just have children but to raise and parent our children in safe and sustainable communities. 

The Alabama ruling feels deeply personal to me and thousands of parents or parents-to-be across the country because we are left asking ourselves whether, and to what extent, our medical and fertility choices will be criminalized. How far will anti-abortion extremists go to constrict us from our reproductive choices? 

The public outcry and response following the Alabama court decision is not new or surprising to women and communities of color. For centuries women of color have struggled for bodily autonomy. The examples are plentiful: from the forced sterilization of interned Japanese American women during World War II to the rampant sterilization of Mexican American women in the early 1970s, the prolific forced sterilization of Black women and girls in North Carolina — and across the country — during the eugenics movement, federally subsidized sterilization of an estimated 25 to 42 percent of Indigenous women or the more recent allegations of coerced sterilization of immigrant women at an ICE detention center.  

If Congress wants to enact real legislative solutions for reproductive health, we will need a comprehensive set of laws and policies to ensure that all reproductive health care is affordable and accessible to everyone. This case in Alabama has proven that the anti-reproductive rights movement wants to take choices away from us that span far beyond abortion.  

At the same time, we need to improve maternal health care and extend postpartum support, specifically to help address racial disparities in maternal health. Congress must ensure that every person, regardless of their immigration status or how long they have been in the U.S., has access to health care through legislation, such as The HEAL for Immigrant Families Act, including preventive, routine and critical health services. 

When I hold my baby in my arms, I am reminded of the journey it took to bring her into this world. I feel a great sense of responsibility. To my daughters, who will inherit the decisions that this Congress, state and local elected officials will make about their reproductive choices and bodily autonomy. To the millions of other parents and families who are making decisions about how and when to start a family. To doctors and other health care providers whose training and medical decisions are being questioned — or worse, criminalized. And to communities of color, forced into harm by taking on an outsized burden of restrictive reproductive health laws.  

When we are left asking, “What will happen next?” the only acceptable answer is that we be afforded the freedom to make reproductive decisions for ourselves, for our bodies and for our families.  

Sung Yeon Choimorrow is executive director at the National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum (NAPAWF).