The Numbers Tell a Story
Black women in America are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than white women. Black infants are more than twice as likely to die before their first birthday. These disparities persist regardless of education level, income, or access to prenatal care.
When Serena Williams—one of the world’s greatest athletes with access to premier healthcare—nearly died after childbirth because medical staff dismissed her concerns about blood clots, the message became unmistakable: if it can happen to her, it can happen to anyone.
But here’s what often goes unasked: Why does the medical system fail Black patients so consistently? Why do Black families approach healthcare institutions with warranted caution? Why does mistrust run so deep?
The answer isn’t a mystery. It’s history.
The Medical Experiments We Don’t Talk About
Medical mistrust in Black communities isn’t paranoia—it’s memory. It’s the accumulated weight of centuries of exploitation, experimentation, and harm carried out under the guise of medical advancement.
The Tuskegee Syphilis Study ran from 1932 to 1972—forty years during which the U.S. Public Health Service observed 600 Black men, told them they were receiving treatment for “bad blood,” and deliberately withheld penicillin even after it became the standard cure. Researchers wanted to study the untreated progression of syphilis. The men suffered. Their families suffered. And when the study was finally exposed, the damage extended far beyond those 600 men—it shattered trust across generations.
Dr. J. Marion Sims, often called the “father of modern gynecology,” developed his surgical techniques by performing experimental procedures on enslaved Black women—without anesthesia. Women like Anarcha, Betsy, and Lucy endured repeated, agonizing surgeries so that Sims could perfect methods that would later be used to treat white women. Their names are rarely taught. Their pain is rarely acknowledged. But their bodies built the foundation of an entire medical field.
Henrietta Lacks had her cells taken without consent in 1951. Those cells—HeLa cells—became one of the most important tools in modern medicine, contributing to breakthroughs in cancer research, vaccines, and countless treatments. Her family didn’t learn about it until decades later. They received no compensation. No acknowledgment. The medical establishment took what it needed and moved on.
These aren’t isolated incidents. Forced sterilizations of Black women continued into the 1970s. Medical schools used the bodies of enslaved people for dissection without consent. Experimental treatments were tested on Black patients in underfunded hospitals. The pattern is undeniable: Black bodies have been treated as resources for medical progress rather than as people deserving care, dignity, and informed consent.
Why This History Still Matters
Understanding this history isn’t about dwelling on the past—it’s about recognizing that the past isn’t past. It lives in the present.
It lives in the Black mother whose pain is dismissed as exaggeration. In the patient whose symptoms are attributed to drug-seeking rather than genuine illness. In the families who hesitate to seek care because they’ve learned that medical institutions don’t always have their best interests at heart.
When we talk about Black maternal mortality rates, we’re not just talking about current failures in healthcare delivery. We’re talking about the legacy of a system that has historically valued Black women’s bodies for what could be extracted from them, not for the lives they contain.
Healing requires truth. It requires acknowledging what happened, understanding why mistrust exists, and committing to a fundamentally different approach—one rooted in respect, equity, and the belief that Black lives deserve protection.
Turning History Into Action
This April, during National Minority Health Month, we have an opportunity to do more than acknowledge these disparities—we can confront them with the full weight of historical truth behind us.
At TSAAN, our mission is to ensure that African American history is fully integrated into the nation’s historical fabric. That includes the medical history too often erased from textbooks and public consciousness. When we preserve and share these stories, we equip communities with the context needed to understand why things are the way they are—and why they must change.
This is why we’re hosting “Saving Black Lives: The Urgency to Protect Mothers & Babies” in April. This event will bring together medical professionals, historians, advocates, and community members to address Black maternal health with the historical context it demands. Because you cannot solve a problem you refuse to understand. And you cannot build trust without acknowledging why it was broken.
The Stories We Carry Forward
As Dr. Maya Angelou reminded us: “Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave.”
Every Black mother who survives childbirth despite a system designed to dismiss her carries that legacy forward. Every family that demands better care honors the ancestors who had no voice. Every person who learns this history becomes equipped to challenge the systems that perpetuate harm.
Remembering these stories isn’t optional—it’s essential. And sharing them is an act of resistance, love, and hope.
Join Us in This Work
If this history moved you, if these stories matter to you, we invite you to take action:
Subscribe to our newsletter to receive more historical spotlights, updates from TSAAN, and resources that connect past to present.
Join us for “Saving Black Lives: The Urgency to Protect Mothers & Babies” this April.
Together, we ensure that the truth is told, that history is preserved, and that the future we cultivate honors the lives that came before.
