By Doris Kathia
There are few things more powerful, more intimate, and more life‑altering than motherhood. Motherhood permanently changes a woman’s body. It affects her health, finances, career trajectory, and identity. It can be beautiful, yes — but beauty cannot be extracted by force. To be forced into motherhood against one’s will is something entirely different. It is not sacred. It is not noble. It is controlled. And control over a woman’s body, her future, and her autonomy is a form of enslavement.
Motherhood, when imposed, is oppressive.
What does it mean to force motherhood? It can take many forms. It can be the denial of access to contraception. It can be laws that criminalise abortion, even in cases of rape or incest. It can be cultural pressure that shames women who do not want children. It can be economic systems that leave women financially dependent and unable to refuse pregnancy within marriage. In all these cases, the core issue is the same: women lose control over whether and when they become mothers. And when that choice is removed, motherhood ceases to be an act of consent and becomes an obligation imposed from above.
And sometimes, the denial of access to contraception is not passive neglect; rather, it is active destruction.
In 2025, under the administration of President Donald Trump, the U.S. State Department confirmed that it would destroy $9.7 million worth of contraceptives rather than distribute them abroad to women in need. The supplies, primarily long‑acting contraceptives such as IUDs and implants, had reportedly been stored in a warehouse in Belgium and were likely intended for women in crisis settings across Africa, including war zones and refugee camps.
Instead of being shipped to prevent unintended pregnancies, unsafe abortions, and maternal deaths, the stock was slated for incineration at an additional cost of $167,000 to U.S. taxpayers.
Imagine: contraceptives that could prevent maternal deaths — burned. Supplies that could allow girls to stay in school — destroyed. Taxpayer‑funded medical resources — incinerated.
The official reasoning cited legal restrictions preventing aid from going to organisations associated with abortion services, as well as concerns about shelf life and rebranding costs. Yet humanitarian organisations reported that many of the contraceptives were not near expiration and did not require relabelling. MSI Reproductive Choices even attempted to purchase the supplies but was reportedly required to pay full price — along with distribution costs — making it financially impossible. Meanwhile, family planning programmes in multiple countries reported imminent stockouts.
What message does it send when a government would rather burn birth control than allow women access to it?
Forced motherhood is not only about banning abortion. It is about engineering scarcity. When contraception is withheld — whether through policy, funding cuts, or deliberate destruction — women are cornered. Without the means to prevent pregnancy, choice becomes theoretical. Autonomy becomes rhetorical. And the consequences are not abstract.
“If you have an unintended pregnancy and you end up having to seek unsafe abortion, it’s quite likely that you will die,” said Sarah Shaw of MSI Reproductive Choices. In many regions, lack of access to contraception means higher maternal mortality, unsafe procedures, and cycles of poverty that trap entire families.
Imagine a teenage girl in Meru whose local clinic has run out of contraceptives because funding was cut. She becomes pregnant. She leaves school. Her earning potential collapses. Her child grows up in deeper poverty. Multiply that story by thousands. By millions.
Is that “pro‑life”? Or is it policy‑induced suffering?
The dismantling of the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) during this period further disrupted global supply chains for family planning. Without fuel funding, distribution vehicles in some countries reportedly sat idle — contraceptives locked in warehouses while women waited.
It is difficult to ignore the symbolism: birth control sitting unused while women are denied control over their own bodies.
Supporters of restrictive policies often frame these actions as moral or fiscally responsible. But how is burning millions of dollars in medical supplies fiscally responsible? How is denying contraception to women in refugee camps morally defensible?
If motherhood is sacred, shouldn’t it be voluntary? Throughout history, enslaved women were forced to bear children to increase labour forces. Authoritarian regimes have pressured women to produce children for demographic goals. Today, in subtler but equally powerful ways, reproductive restriction continues that pattern of control.
Freedom requires bodily autonomy — the same way we do not force people to donate organs, mandate blood transfusions, or compel individuals to undergo medical risk for the benefit of others. Pregnancy carries profound physical, economic, and psychological consequences — yet some argue it can be imposed.
If we truly honour children, we must ensure they are born into willingness, not resentment or desperation. A society that burns contraception while preaching family values is not protecting life but controlling it.
Forced motherhood is female enslavement because it reduces women to reproductive function and strips them of meaningful choice. Liberation is about ensuring that every mother is a willing one. Until that principle is universal, the question remains: do we value women as autonomous human beings or only as instruments of birth?
Ms Kathia is a Human Rights Defender and a communications expert.
