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How Mexico’s Abortion Activists Care for Each Other—and Themselves
Once a year, Vanessa Jiménez travels to the Lacandon jungle in southern Mexico. At her home in the northern city of Monterrey, more than 900 miles from the jungle, she divides her days between working as a graphic designer, running an advocacy organization for gender-based violence, and volunteering with the Necesito Abortar (I Need an Abortion) network to provide support for safe abortions.
Traveling to the jungle, though sometimes difficult, is an important part of her self-care strategy. The hot and humid weather, the rough terrain, and the level of attention it requires help her to decompress from the abortion activism she’s doing in the northern state of Nuevo León.
“Last time I went, I was like, ‘I’m going to die, right?’ I asked myself, ‘What am I doing here?’ And one of the girls told me: ‘You have to listen to your heart and learn to return to its rhythm. You are going to breathe four times and release it as slowly as you can, as if you were blowing,’” says Jiménez, laughing while sitting on the couch at home in Monterrey.
Jiménez and her long-time partner, Sandra Cardona, are the founders of Necesito Abortar, a group of 20 “acompañantes” (companions) that provide support throughout the abortion process. Most of the companions receive no financial remuneration and carry out this work in addition to their paid jobs and daily commitments. While these volunteer collectives have brought Mexico to the forefront of abortion access, there is one struggle that goes largely unnoticed: the health and emotional well-being of these volunteers.
Perla Martínez, who’s a member of Las Borders, a collective based in Mexicali, Baja California, explains that sometimes the demand can be overwhelming, so it has been important to establish fixed hours of attention, create spaces that allow activists to decompress, and delegate cases to other members as needed.
“Take days off! We didn’t do it before, but we’ve already started doing it,” says Martínez. “We rotate activities so as not to wear out. Also, if suddenly we are very saturated, we share it between us.”
Keeping Activism Strong
Across Mexico, these networks provide counseling, in-person or online accompaniment, and follow-up care for people seeking at-home abortions. Despite the legislative advances in the country, many women and pregnant people are still choosing the acompañamiento.
Mexico’s Supreme Court decriminalized abortion on the federal level in 2023 and requires federal health facilities to offer and provide abortion care. However, medical workers can still refuse to carry out terminations, and 20 of Mexico’s 32 states still have criminal abortion laws.
Pending legal battles aside, reproductive justice activists along the U.S.–Mexico border agree that the social stigma surrounding abortion remains one of the biggest challenges facing the region. This can have a negative impact on both the people seeking abortions and those providing access to them. In some cases, this can even manifest itself in the form of fatigue, illnesses, sleep disorders, burnout, and more.
“Sometimes it can be emotional when there are complex accompaniments, or that they are crossed by various forms of violence,” says Martínez. “That’s also heavy … holding people every day. But I also think that there are people who support me every day.”
To combat these side effects, collectives are organizing recreational events that encourage relaxation. The Necesito Abortar network hosts two large annual meetings with all members, while Las Borders tries to schedule time to hang out or celebrate. Individually, members also try to create space for self-care. Just as Jiménez enjoys spending time in nature, Cardona’s chosen activity is binge-watching television with her cat. Martínez also enjoys spending time with her cat, Gati, and watching “trash TV.”
“I go to screen-printing classes as an occupational therapy, which also helps me not only to get out of my bubble, but also to generate some things out from that rage, anger, or joy,” adds Martínez.
A Network That Keeps Growing
Some cases can trigger past experiences or have a strong emotional impact on the acompañantes. For Jiménez, cases that involve violence and sexual torture are the toughest. In these situations, she often finds it necessary to share how she feels with the rest of the network.
Samantha Montalvo, an independent acompañante trained by Necesito Abortar, explains that these cases reveal the complexity and responsibility of the support the acompañante provides. In 2005, Mexico passed the NOM-046 regulation to establish procedures for the prevention and care of family violence. It states that health institutions are obligated to guarantee access to abortion services in cases of sexual assault. However, as Montalvo explains, there are health facilities that still refuse to follow it, complicating the acompañamiento.
“As a companion, you have to find the methods to make the NOM-046 valid,” she says. “It requires commitment, knowledge, network, ethics, and self-care.”
Montalvo, a psychologist on the autism spectrum, mainly focuses her acompañamiento on people who are neurodivergent and/or have disabilities. “I asked myself the question too, right? OK, yes, we all have abortions. But what about the ‘locas’ [crazy ones]?” she says, adding that her use of the term “crazy” is a powerful tool against stigma and prejudice.
In their battle to expand disability services, Montalvo and her “community of locas,” as she calls it, have witnessed the stigmatization of community care. They are called manipulators, promoters of abortion, or even “intellectual authors of a crime.” They are often harassed on social media and at work.
“Being psychologists who accompany abortion processes, [other colleagues] see us as unethical,” Montalvo explains. “They also threaten to take away our professional license because they believe that we offer therapy in order to make them get an abortion, when one thing has nothing to do with the other.”
Organizations like Ipas, which seeks to increase access to safe abortions and contraception, and Mexico’s Red Nacional de Defensoras de Derechos Humanos, which responds to the violence faced by women defenders and journalists, offer self-care resources. However, with all the various violences that women face in Mexico, there is still a lack of more detailed information on how the acompañantes are affected.
“We still need to make a detailed analysis of the psycho-emotional and psychosocial impact that defenders who defend the right to decide have specifically. …[We] need to carry it out to look in more detail at some aspects that may possibly help us generate more comprehensive attention to the issue of defense of colleagues,” says Cecilia Espinosa, co-director of the Red Nacional.
Despite the challenges, acompañantes are committed to reducing abortion stigma, increasing knowledge, and expanding access to sexual and reproductive health services in Mexico and beyond its borders. For instance, a cross-border network with U.S. activists in states where abortion is banned or severely restricted is supporting mainly undocumented immigrant women while sharing information on the creation of underground networks of community abortion providers.
“Now we have to focus on other groups or on how to socialize it more every time and make it more accessible, beyond the groups that have access to social networks,” says Jiménez. “It is a daily job: to sell the acompañamiento.”
Chantal Flores
is an independent journalist based in Monterrey, Mexico. She covers gender violence, enforced disappearance, and social justice.
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