Reclaiming Safe Abortion Access in Haiti

Don’t move. Those were the only words from the doctor who performed Samora Chalmers’ first abortion 15 years ago in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, during her 30-minute appointment. 

Chalmers can’t tell you the details of the procedure she underwent. The doctor never told her. All she remembers is being alone with a stranger and feeling terrible pain, which anesthesia did little to numb. Three days later, she had lost so much blood that she had to see another doctor—but couldn’t tell him why because of Haiti’s strict anti-abortion laws. 

“It was really shocking. … After that, I was like, this is crazy,” says Chalmers. “I could die, and no one would know what happened to me … and the doctor would probably deny it.”

The challenges that American women have faced since the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in 2022 are all too familiar to women in Haiti, who live under the shadow of highly restrictive abortion laws almost as old as the republic itself. 

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Haiti is a conservative society where Roman Catholicism shapes many of its social norms. Patriarchal norms, says Haitian feminist Pascale Solages, co-founder and general coordinator of feminist organization Nègès Mawon, have informed its strict views on abortion. In Haiti, women can’t legally access voluntary abortions. Doctors can’t perform them unless the woman’s life is in danger. People who seek, provide, or assist abortions face significant legal consequences—seekers and helpers can serve life in prison. Women who undergo abortion also risk ostracization from their communities. For women and girls who aren’t ready to have children, can’t afford to have them, or are pregnant by rape—Haiti’s justice system treats pregnancies caused by rape and incest in the same way as pregnancies resulting from consensual relationships—abortion can mean life in prison. 

Still, Haitian women find ways to access the procedure. Chalmers found a clinic that offered the illegal procedure, located across the street from one of the city’s most prominent hospitals. It cost her $50, which she paid in cash.

“It’s this thing that’s prohibited, [yet] the reality is that abortion is a part of Haitian women’s lives,” says Solages. “We all know a dozen places where someone can get an abortion, or where we can go to get an abortion cheaply, in extreme conditions.” 

Patriarchy and Feminism in Haiti

In 1804, Haiti achieved what no other colony had done before it—self-liberated independence from colonial rule. It became the world’s first Black-led republic and independent Caribbean state. Today, scholars look back on the Haitian revolution as the most successful slave rebellion in history, an insurrection that called for justice and freedom for those exploited under French rule. 

In the 19th century, women like Marie-Jeanne Lamartinière—a soldier who fought during the Haitian Revolution—and the vodou priestess Cécile Fatiman, who presided over one of the revolution’s founding meetings, helped Haiti win independence. In 1934, women founded the country’s first feminist organization, La Ligue Féminine d’Action Sociale. The League helped earn women the right to vote and advocated for better education and pay opportunities. But more than 200 years into Haiti’s history as a nation, even with feminism’s long history, scholars and activists say patriarchy stands in the way of reforming laws that govern Haitian women’s and girls’ bodies. 

“Haiti is a very patriarchal society,” says Cécile Accilien, a professor of Caribbean studies and president of a Haitian Studies Association based in Atlanta. “It’s women who are the heads of households. … It’s women who keep Haiti’s informal economy going … and yet, at the same time, they are not respected, they are not protected.” 

According to the last Haiti Demographic and Health Surveys (DHS) Program study conducted in 2016, more than half of the abortions in Haiti since 2011 have happened outside of the formal health care system. Some women choose to abort their pregnancies using an abortion medicine called Misoprostol, an oral medication that induces miscarriage. The medication is readily available in Haiti under the label of Cytotec, which doubles as a treatment for ulcers. Others, like Chalmers, may seek out clinics that will perform abortions for a fee. 

Both methods carry inherent risks. Neither is regulated. You can just as easily find Cytotec on the street as in Haiti’s pharmacies, many of which sell the medication past its expiration date or are ill-equipped to store it in proper conditions, says Solages. Many of the calls that Nègès Mawon—a group that, among other mandates, works to improve the conditions in which women and girls live in Haiti—receives are from women who’ve already tried to abort their pregnancies and are battling infections or experiencing complications from taking medication.

“The regulation of medications in [Haiti] is a problem,” says Solages. “But so is the fact … that there’s no reliable information out there that tells women how they can abort their pregnancies using this medication, how to do it, the dose they need to take, the risks involved, etc.” 

For years, feminist organizations have been advocating for the decriminalization of abortion. Victory came close in 2020, when the late Haitian President Jovenel Moïse introduced an updated penal code legalizing abortion under certain conditions. It listed gender-based violence as a punishable offense and would have legalized voluntary abortion for up to 12 weeks in cases of rape, incest, or endangerment of the woman’s mental or physical health. 

Prior to 2020, Haiti’s penal code had remained largely unchanged since it was first introduced nearly 200 years ago. The updated code faced significant backlash from some lawmakers within Haiti who cited that the proposed revisions, which, in addition to circumstantially legalizing abortion, lowered the age of consent to 15, contradicted Haitian family values. When Moïse was assassinated in 2020, those revisions stalled. Abortion in Haiti remains illegal to this day.

“There’s no justice, no government. … It’s a big challenge, to be a woman in Haiti,” says Chalmers. “I’m proud to be a woman and I’m proud to be a Haitian, because we have a strong history, a strong culture … but it’s still not enough.” 

Safe abortion access can break generational cycles of poverty, allowing women to become agents of their own lives and provide better lives for generations to come, says Accilien. Women who have access to abortion are more likely to become economically independent. She adds, “If you don’t have economic independence, you can’t have real independence.” 

Challenging Patriarchal Norms Through Sisterhood 

Since 2015, Solages’ organization, Nègès Mawon, has helped empower women in Haiti to fight back against violence and oppression through education and advocacy. Last year, Nègès Mawon announced a partnership with the Safe Abortion Action Fund, or SAAF, a global funding body that helps organizations in low- and middle-income countries advocate for safe abortion care.

One of the ways it does this is through its sponsorship program, Marrainage, or Sisterhood, through which the organization pairs women, many of whom are survivors of gender-based violence, with other survivors to help them reclaim their histories and turn them into tools of resistance against patriarchal systems. 

The program is multidimensional, and helps women escape circles of violence. Depending on their circumstances, women who seek out Nègès Mawon are assigned une marraine, or a sister, to accompany them to appointments with medical, legal, or psychology experts within Nègès Mawon’s network of specialists. They can help them move out of dangerous areas controlled by gangs, for example. They function as “sponsors,” if you will. 

Marraines are available 24 hours a day, seven days a week. If a woman needs help processing a rape, her marraine can accompany her to a therapy appointment. If a woman is experiencing medical complications from trying to abort her own pregnancy, she can ask her marraine to accompany her to a clinic for aftercare. 

Since last May, Nègès Mawon has supported more than 300 survivors of gender-based violence through the Marrainage program. Core to its mission is offering services that aren’t only safe, says Solages, but affordable. With the support of partner organizations, like Médecins Sans Frontières or Bureau des Droits Humaines en Haïti, it can subsidize the cost of services or offer them for free. 

Abortion Access Through Art and Advocacy 

Outside of its Marrainage program, Nègès Mawon cites art as one of the primary media through which it advocates for women. Last year, in collaboration with local artists, the organization debuted a theatrical play called Danta, which tells the story of a woman mourning the death of her daughter, Danta, who dies after an unsafe abortion. The play, written by Nègès Mawon member Joanne Joseph, took three years to write and produce. It opened at the organization’s annual Festival Féministe.

“It’s a play that’s really intense, that brings a lot of emotion and a lot of pain for women,” says Solages. “Last year, about 100 people saw it. This year, we hope to reach thousands more.” 

Danta is currently on a two-year tour across the country, where it will reach universities, rural areas, feminist groups, and vulnerable communities. Every performance of Danta engages spectators in conversations about abortion, the right to choose, and other topics covered in the play. Solages says she hopes the tour will save lives by educating people about sexuality, safe abortion, and gender-based violence. To make the play’s content more impactful, Nègès Mawon has enlisted the help of a midwife to help transform it from a piece of performance art into a powerful educational experience. 

“Before, it was just a play,” says Solages. “Now, it’s still a play, but it’s also a tool for sensitizing and educating. … It’s a way to give good information about safe abortion, about accessible abortion, and to tell the communities, ‘We’re here. If you need us, we’re here.’” 

Years after her first abortion in Port-au-Prince, Chalmers had a second abortion, this time with a medical professional at a private clinic whom her doctor had referred her to. It was $150, three times the cost of her first abortion. The doctor ran tests, had a nurse help Chalmers remain comfortable throughout the procedure, and kept her afterward for observation. This time, she felt safe. Today, Chalmers has a 4-year-old daughter, whom she had when she felt ready to bring a child into the world.

“Raising a child is not just giving it love,” she says. “You have to heal yourself first, from all your traumas, from all those expectations. … I wasn’t ready at all [back then], I think psychologically, I wasn’t ready, and financially also.” 

Changing local perceptions of abortion and educating people about abortion access is half of the work. The other half is legalizing abortion. While Nègès Mawon hopes plays like Danta and tools like the Marrainage program will give women the information they need to exercise their agency, changes to the penal code—for which the organization also continues to advocate—are essential. 

“It’s a fact that in countries where abortion is legal, there’s a radically lower death rate when it comes to abortions,” says Solages. “It’s a question of women’s lives, of their liberty, of their well-being. In Haiti, we’re not even there yet. We’re just trying to save as many women as possible.” 

Yes!’s interviews with Nègès Mawon were conducted in French and translated by the writer.