One of the hardest things to be in life is a woman.
Now there are plenty of things I can choose to support that statement (men can stop rolling their eyes now), but today I am focusing more on how hard it is for us to simply take care of ourselves and our bodies.
It is no mystery that one of the biggest issues in our country is healthcare. More specifically, it is a major issue in Mississippi.
It is sad to see the lack of access to affordable and legitimate healthcare here. With Mississippi not expanding Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act, healthcare access is even more limited for low-income women. There are many impoverished areas in Mississippi that are barely given a thought, leaving more people uninsured.
Back home, many families lack adequate insurance, and even those with coverage face long travel distances for care. My mom, in her older age, struggles to keep up with screenings like mammograms, as appointments are hard to schedule. When she manages to book a visit, the best facilities are often out of reach.
I also face challenges, only being covered for urgent care visits. Routine wellness appointments are difficult to access without hefty bills, and I rarely receive a full checkup, even when in severe pain.
Even though this is a general issue that can apply to both genders, there are significant differences within the system that affect women in ways that don’t impact men.
The rate of breast cancer incidents in Mississippi may be lower than the national average, but the mortality rate is higher — largely due to late-stage diagnosis and lack of treatment access. The same is true for cervical cancer.
Mississippi has the highest infant mortality rate in the country, along with one of the highest maternal mortality rates.
Not only is our maternal mortality rate double the national average, but Black women also are disproportionately affected, with a rate about three times higher than that of white women here in Mississippi.
So not only is the well-being of all women at risk here but so is that of Black women, and it isn’t talked about enough. For example, it’s more likely for a Black woman’s reports or complaints to be overlooked or ignored from the start. The lack of cultural competence sometimes discourages many women of color from seeking care or following up on treatments, leading to the complications we’re seeing now.
Imagine how many cases could have been prevented or treated differently if healthcare workers took the time to assess women of color properly.
Ultimately, these circumstances are driven by a combination of systemic racism, socioeconomic barriers and geographic isolation, creating a public health crisis that demands urgent attention and reform.
But since we’re on the topic of pregnancy, let’s take a step back to how scary it is right now for a woman to bring life into the United States, even more so in Mississippi. The current fight over reproductive rights and restrictions is a big one, especially after the overturning of Roe v. Wade.
The near-total ban on abortion has forced many women to carry unintended pregnancies to term, increasing the risk of poor health outcomes. With limited family planning resources and access to contraception, particularly in rural areas, it’s difficult for some to manage this burden.
Once a woman is pregnant, regardless of how it happens, if she decides to continue the pregnancy, she must first investigate proper prenatal care. A significant portion of women in Mississippi receive inadequate prenatal care, which is crucial after being forced to proceed with pregnancy.
Although Medicaid covers pregnant women during pregnancy and childbirth, the coverage typically ends about 60 days postpartum, which isn’t very long. In fact, this is a critical time for women to receive support during recovery, both physically and mentally.
The examples can go on and on, but they all circle back to the lack of care and effort put into improving the healthcare system here in the South. The struggles are so pronounced here yet so silenced, and it’s important that these issues are addressed.
And if we women — of all backgrounds — don’t speak up about it, who will?
Chequoia Adderley is a senior integrated marketing communications major from Pascagoula, Miss.
