For two months of the year, every year, the National Network of Abortion Funds (NNAF) makes a bid to keep abortion funds running across the country, regardless of state restrictions on reproductive healthcare.
The mass peer-to-peer donation drive is known as the National Abortion Access Fund-a-Thon(opens in a new tab), an apropos grassroots mix of individual campaigns, fundraising teams, and abortion-fund-organized events that draw attention and support back to the cause. As its biggest cross-fund money-generating event of the year, NNAF(opens in a new tab) uses its Fund-a-Thon as a key step toward its ultimate goal: to imbue power in reproductive justice advocates and those seeking care by eliminating socioeconomic barriers to abortion access.
NNAF's work took center stage last year, as one of many organizations listed in how-to-help articles and social posts that urged supporters nationwide to step up and step out for reproductive healthcare and bodily autonomy in the wake of the June 2022 Supreme Court ruling that overturned Roe v. Wade, eliminating the constitutional right to abortion.
This decision, known officially as Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization or informally as the "overturning of Roe," set off a cascade of effects, including "trigger laws(opens in a new tab)" that made providing both procedural and medication abortion illegal in some states, thrusting many abortion fund services into uncertainty. It also forced the rest of the country into a complicated place of mass education and widespread confusion: What does this mean for my state, specifically? Will I be prosecuted if I seek an abortion, in-state or out? Does this affect physicians? Are abortion funds illegal now, too?
As the nation approaches the one-year anniversary of the historic decision — following the first year of advocates fighting for access to post-Roe abortion care under the increasingly restrictive laws of anti-abortion states — it's become more important than ever to make these answers clear.
When it comes to the question of continued support through resources like NNAF, organizers of abortion funds say it best themselves: "We are still here."
The evolution of reproductive justice
"This is fun. There is so much joy and love in this work," said Oriaku Njoku, the executive director of NNAF and one of the founders of Access Reproductive Care (ARC) Southeast(opens in a new tab), an abortion and reproductive care fund that services people in the southern states of Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Tennessee.
Njoku is referring to the essence of the Fund-a-Thon and a broader misconception of this mission — that amid the political turmoil and heavily-exacting work of ensuring patients across the country can exercise their own bodily autonomy, promoting reproductive justice can't also be an act of radical optimism.
This is the reason why Njoku embraces the guiding principles of hope and love in their work and that of NNAF, promoting what some might think of as incongruously silly events and fundraisers on behalf of the network and other funds, and it's also why many of those same funds still exist to this day, decades after their founding.
"The National Network of Abortion Funds is an organization made up of 100 abortion funds, all over the country and some abroad, as well, who have been doing the work navigating these unjust bans and restrictions in real time for folks in their communities, even before Dobbs," Njoku explained. "They are funding abortions, providing logistical support, or funding logistical support, which looks like the rides, lodging, childcare, food — there's so many things that folks may not think about as additional costs when it comes to actually accessing an abortion, let alone making sure that we have a political climate that can ensure that abortion consistently stays available for so many of us here in this country."
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Alongside its 2023 Fund-a-Thon, NNAF is celebrating its 30th birthday, but as Njoku and many activists have been reiterating for years, the work has been around even longer.
The exact origin of the "abortion fund" is ephemeral, a specific iteration of a type of mutual aid that's probably existed long before we can recount. But modern funds are built in the image (or are the continuation) of reproductive health funds founded around the midcentury, often by healthcare workers, clergy, or other community members.
Many survived in the pre-Roe world through an underground network (like the Abortion Counseling Service of Women’s Liberation(opens in a new tab), also known as "The Service" or "Jane"), and in the period immediately post-Roe began the transition into the nonprofit sector. In the 1990s, the notion of reproductive justice, not just access, became the new guiding principle for many of these organizations, inspired by the work of Black women organizers like the Women of African Descent for Reproductive Justice(opens in a new tab) and later SisterSong(opens in a new tab), who were informed by the long intersectional work of Black and Indigenous women, and other communities of color.
Figuring out the ways of navigating those hostile environments is something that is in our DNA.
"Conflating reproductive justice with just abortion is actually doing a disservice to the original intention of the 12 Black women who coined the phrase 'reproductive justice,' and it's doing an injustice to the reproductive justice work that has been going on even before the term reproductive justice was put into place," Njoku said. "The work that we do is at the intersection of abortion access, economic justice, and racial justice. Right now, the question is, 'What are abortion clinics doing?' They're funding abortion. They are out in the streets. They are making sure that folks can get to their appointments.
"Yes, Roe made abortion legal. But it did not mean that it was available. And it definitely didn't guarantee that it was accessible."
This was an echoing refrain last year, as well, reiterating that the new Dobbs-era reality wasn't entirely new territory, and the best thing to do as someone eager to do something was to aid those already doing the work and pay closer attention to those immediately affected by inaccessible healthcare. That still rings true in 2023.
"The reason I'm able to have a lot of optimism is that I've been doing this work in the South," Njoku explained. "So the idea of a post-Roe reality that a lot of folks were afraid of was actually the lived reality that we'd been experiencing before we even got to June 24, 2022. Figuring out the ways of navigating those hostile environments is something that is in our DNA."
Today, some funds are deeply entrenched community actors, while others are newer to the cause, fitting into the spaces forged by older health centers or nonprofits who provided services before them. Some provide money in grant-like systems, working with local clinics or providers to help cover medical costs, or with individuals directly, while others service community members with practical support, like travel or childcare. Others have shifted priority towards other forms of reproductive health assistance. As they ebb and flow just like the law itself, funds continue to persevere.
But what is actually needed to keep them going?
Fund-a-Thon as community and inspiration
The idea of the National Abortion Access Fund-a-Thon originated from a Bowl-a-Thon fundraising event held over 20 years ago by Minnesota's Our Justice(opens in a new tab), one of the oldest abortion funds in the country, founded in 1967. For Fund-a-Thon this year, Our Justice has set out to raise $175,000 through its Dream Big for Abortion(opens in a new tab) event, an evolution from its traditional bowling event that mirrors the organization's own progression from an abortion-rights resources group to an advocacy network promoting the full gamut of reproductive justice.
Njoku explained that the yearly, network-wide goal for all of NNAF's funds — which is set at $2 million before May 31 — is chosen based on what participating groups like Our Justice say they can fundraise, and, in this year's case, that was decided before the Dobbs decision. But "that doesn't mean we can't fundraise more," Njoku noted. This year, NNAF is also providing a $50,000 match to all participating funds.
The fundraiser's April through May timing is aligned to match up with the fiscal calendar (July through June) of most abortion funds. This means the Fund-a-Thon is often the last definitive push to bolster a budget that ensures that organizations providing practical support to abortion seekers stay operable.
"Abortion funds have been working with shoestring budgets for the longest time. They've been really scrappy and creative and innovative. But what I'm seeing in this moment is that this is the time to really invest, not only in our own infrastructure, but for us to have the structure and the rigor and the systems in place to actually meet the need in the ways that we're experiencing right now," Njoku said.
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As a fund operating in a so-called "Safe Haven State(opens in a new tab)," a term for states that have laws on record that explicitly protect abortion access, Our Justice has taken on the role of older guide among its surrounding sister states, which almost all outlaw abortion(opens in a new tab). Along with other abortion funds nationwide, Our Justice participates in what are called solidarity pledges, or community calls for financial assistance when one fund is faced with particularly high-cost abortion needs.
Shayla Walker, executive director of Our Justice, explained these special cases can exceed $15,000 when all logistics, care, and medical bills are included, and the response is often a chain of multiple, smaller donations from funds across the country. During the first week of May, Our Justice had already donated to three of these solidarity pledges, Walker said. And "average" abortion costs can still range from $500 to more than $2,000(opens in a new tab).
Since Roe was overturned, the organization has also started distributing money on behalf of Midwest funds that can no longer do so themselves, like those in Wisconsin. "They wanted to have some way to make sure that their communities could still access these funds and not be a barrier," said Walker. "Every month, we get some of the Wisconsin funds and we're able to distribute those funds on behalf of the Wisconsin funders to Wisconsin patients coming to Minnesota."
At the same time, the fund is working to actively denounce encroachments on its base's right to abortion care, even in Minnesota's more liberal political environment and with its "Safe Haven" status, through its "UnRestrict Minnesota(opens in a new tab)" campaign and other direct political advocacy work. Fund-a-Thon earnings go toward their work at every level.
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Ali Taylor is the co-founder of the Arkansas Abortion Support Network(opens in a new tab), the only abortion fund in its state, which has restricted abortion entirely except in medical emergencies. Taylor and two others, Karen Musick and Roz Creed, who is also Taylor's mother, started the organization in 2016, a response to growing anxiety about the political climate and their experiences being clinic escorts at Little Rock Family Planning Services(opens in a new tab), which was the only full service abortion clinic in the state.
The network provides another example of inter-state relationships, like those of the "Safe Haven State" coalitions and other out-of-state fund partnerships. In the case of the Arkansas Abortion Support Network, the organization sends funds to the Midwest Access Coalition(opens in a new tab) — which provides help with practical needs like transportation, lodging, food, and childcare — based on how many Arkansas residents the coalition serves in states like Illinois and Kansas.
"Pretty much since the beginning, we have been helping folks access abortion clinics out-of-state as well as in-state before the Dobbs decision," Taylor explained, noting that they now operate in an area of the country surrounded by states similarly restricted. "I think we're all in the process of regrouping, and making sure that we're connected in the right ways to make sure that everybody knows what everybody is doing. Some funds had to make the decision to make drastic changes to the types of support they provide. So there's still a bit of getting that all figured out across the region."
Since the decision, the network's need for on-the-ground volunteers has decreased, but the group is still providing assistance and travel support. In November 2022, the group opened its YOU Center(opens in a new tab), a one-stop community resource for free pregnancy tests, Plan B emergency contraception, referrals to abortion funds and clinics, and other accurate reproductive health and adoption information. It sits in a lot owned by the Arkansas Abortion Support Network, right across from the former Little Rock Family Planning Services.
"This was something we'd actually been thinking of for a very, very, very long time," Taylor said. "It's a bit of a double-edged sword that it was the donations received in the wake of the leaked [Supreme Court] decision, and then [Dobbs] itself, that allowed us to do some things that we've been wanting to do for a while."
As one of the younger funds, this is also the first year that Arkansas Abortion Support Network is participating in the Fund-a-Thon, hosting a mass fundraising event on May 27 called Smash-A-Thon(opens in a new tab). Local supporters can pay $25 to smash cars, plates, and more in a rage-against-the-machine-style fundraiser.
A lot of the group's work has been focused on reiterating that it, simply, still exists, and that donations will continue to go toward access and support. That's why the top of the fund's website declaratively reads: "WE ARE STILL HERE. WE ARE HELPING PEOPLE GO OUT OF STATE TO ACCESS ABORTION IN STATES WHERE IT IS STILL LEGAL."
Meanwhile, in Texas, among some of the country's most intense scrutiny and concern over restrictive abortion laws, the Lilith Fund(opens in a new tab) is raising money(opens in a new tab) to ensure low income Texans have access to all kinds of healthcare. The organization is the oldest abortion fund in Texas, founded 22 years ago, and, until Dobbs, was directly paying for abortions, responding to a need from lower income Texans as state Medicaid wouldn't cover such procedures. Last year, that work had to immediately stop, though it wasn't the first legal hurdle limiting the fund's reach within the state. "I'm cognizant of a national eye on us," said Blanca Murillo, development director at Lilith Fund, "but we're still wanting to keep the focus on Texas."
Like many other funds, the group has expanded its scope, now funding other reproductive health and clinic services (like ultrasounds, consults, and contraception), as well as gender-affirming care. As of February, the organization had also gotten a temporary green flag to start funding out-of-state procedures again, after a federal district court ruled that organizations couldn't be prosecuted(opens in a new tab) for the act. Lilith Fund and other Texas advocates operate in a precarious political environment,(opens in a new tab) which had prompted some to reconsider their ability to fund abortion care(opens in a new tab) entirely.
In an April statement about the decision(opens in a new tab), as the fund began its out-of-state operations again, the organization wrote, "While we have been proud to fund other essential healthcare for our hotline callers, funding abortion is what we are here to do. Even though no one should have to leave home for healthcare, it means everything to us to support Texans who have been forced to travel to access abortion care."
For this year's Fund-a-Thon, the 13th year the organization has participated, Lilith Fund is organizing a Dance-a-Thon, its first in-person fundraising event since before the COVID-19 pandemic. "In the past, Fund-a-Thon was this vehicle to get our supporters to do small events on our behalf and fundraise for us," Murillo said. "But because of the way abortion is being discussed now, and has this national spotlight it hasn't had before, people are doing events all the time. For the first time, the Fund-a-Thon is no longer the biggest fundraiser we have, but it's still really important. It's one of the most visible times where we encourage our supporters to talk to their family and friends about abortion."
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Individual interactions are at the heart of the seasonal event, with the NNAF's fundraising efforts intentionally decentralized, allowing anyone to host any kind of donation effort in their own capacity. A quick scroll of the Fund-a-Thon site shows the sheer range of activities, from trivia parties(opens in a new tab) to those classic Bowl-a-Thons(opens in a new tab).
Rachel Fabi, for example, is the creator of These Puzzl3s Fund Abortion(opens in a new tab), one of the Fund-a-Thon's most successful individual fundraising efforts in recent years. The campaign is a group effort from more than a dozen crossword creators, editors, and testers who create packs of purchasable, reproductive-justice-themed crossword puzzles that benefit multiple funds. This year, the proceeds from purchased puzzle packs are directed toward the Baltimore Abortion Fund (BAF)(opens in a new tab), the Chicago Abortion Fund(opens in a new tab), Indigenous Women Rising(opens in a new tab), Tampa Bay Abortion Fund (TBAF)(opens in a new tab), and the Wild West Access Fund of Nevada(opens in a new tab).
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"People were looking for things to do to fight back, and it was very easy to be like, 'We have crossword puzzles!'" explained Fabi, a professional bioethicist who got entrenched in the cruciverbalist world over the last six years. The puzzle campaign was inspired by other similar mutual aid projects and a pack designed by crossword creator Nate Cardin, who offered the games to people who donated to LGBTQ charities. Fabi's first abortion-related pack launched in 2020 to support the Baltimore Abortion Fund and raised more than $35,000.
This year, Fabi and the other creators hope to raise just as much, and are encouraging supporters to donate to any fund (not just the five they are supporting directly) to get access to the puzzle pack. "This year has been a little bit slower," she said. "Maybe there's a little bit of abortion bad news fatigue — sort of a slow, painful drip of bad things happening on the abortion policy front that people are just not staying on top of, because it feels a little bit hopeless for people. Tuning that out, if it doesn't directly affect you, is an easy option. But I hope that's not the case. I hope people will re-engage."
Where abortion funds need supporters' help
Despite a slowdown in donations, compared to the immediate aftermath of Dobbs, Fabi's Fund-a-Thon campaign has already raised almost $24,000 of its $25,000 goal. Our Justice's fundraising efforts have ticked the $185,000 mark, while Lilith Fund says it's reached about 30 percent of its $50,000 goal.
And as of May 10, NNAF had raised a total of $1,802,254 for its network of 100 abortion funds.
But this is barely scratching the surface of need, Njoku noted. Our Justice spent $175,000 on abortion funding alone last year, and the organization says its Fund-a-Thon goal will cover less than half of its operating budget for the next financial period.
Sustained and practical support
"Even though last year was a record-breaking fundraising season — our Fund-a-Thon raised more than $2 million — we're calling on folks to double down, to give again, to take their support to that next level, in a more sustainable way," Njoku said. "As much as I'm excited about this $1.5 million, there's some abortion funds with a $1.5 million budget that still run out of money every single month."
What is more effective for many of these funds, they explained, is a robust group of continued donors pledging monthly amounts, whether that means very small donations or splitting up a larger one. By contributing in this manner, funds can better budget for annual expenses, make predictions about how much support they can provide, and predict just how much they'll raise next year.
There has to be a radical financial investment in abortion funds for their sustainability.
Individual donors can find their local fund(opens in a new tab) and become a recurring donor directly, or make monthly donations to the NNAF(opens in a new tab). Individuals can also become a member of the NNAF(opens in a new tab) to strengthen the network.
Taylor expressed the same need for reliable donor interactions while servicing patients in Arkansas. "It cannot be stressed enough how much monthly donations help, because it allows us to budget a lot better, to know what we're expecting. The one-time 'rage donations,' as they're sometimes referred to, are starting to dry up."
Walker emphasized the role of sustained funding in promoting socioeconomic inclusivity throughout abortion fund networks, also noting that being in a position to speak publicly about work with an abortion fund is a privilege in itself. "If we're looking at this movement from a reproductive justice framework, and we want people at the front of the movement who've actually had abortions and had to access abortion funds, that means there has to be a radical financial investment in abortion funds for their sustainability. Because we're the same people who would qualify for financial assistance if we had called into an abortion clinic and were screened."
"What have we got to lose?" Njoku said. "We lost the thing that we thought we had, which was Roe, so at this point the sky's the limit for what is possible and what a future of true reproductive justice and collective liberation can actually look like. In the spirit of abundance, let's go as far as we can go."
Combining interests and fundraising
Fabi's puzzle campaign, and creative efforts like it, pose a new way to think about abortion fundraising and reproductive health activism, which is to see how this work fits into your already existing passions.
"You're sort of trying to use people's interests as a hook. The crossword community has really come out in support of this fundraiser, spreading the word, and that's been helpful for us. I hope other funds try to pick up this model, because I think it is adaptable to others," Fabi said.
She spends six months of every year with a group of fellow crossword enthusiasts and professionals creating and editing the These Puzzl3s Fund Abortion packs, and while the task is a lot of hard work, it's also what they're most passionate about outside of abortion activism. "Use whatever talent you have, then leverage it for abortion funding. It can be as much effort or as little as you want, but the funds make it super easy."
Njoku says the movement for reproductive justice requires a diverse web of support, just like the kinds of practical support funds provide and the mentality that's allowed mutual aid to service communities for generations.
"Who's going to watch the kids? Who's going to make the lunch? Who's going to bail us out of jail if things pop off and get real? Everyone has a really unique and important role to play. Instead of worrying about this sense of urgency, we have to pause and ground ourselves differently, so we can show up differently."
Recontextualizing the narrative
All of this points to a greater need for both political and cultural education about abortion funds, state law, and medical access — which can grow a better understanding of the legal, social, and economic environments that have allowed reproductive care inequity to fester — as well as a shift in how individuals talk about abortion in everyday life.
Last year, many advocates turned the spotlight toward ongoing narrative campaigns like Shout Your Abortion(opens in a new tab) and We Testify(opens in a new tab), which uplift the personal stories of people who have received abortion care.
Funds themselves participate in this work, as well.
I'm not going down being silent or letting fear or uncertainty cloud the reality that we deserve more than this.
The Lilith Fund promotes what they call their Hype Squad(opens in a new tab), a campaign for individuals trained to talk about abortion access and current Texas law, who are guided by the desire to spread accurate information and end abortion stigma. Those interested can sign up online to receive a toolkit by mail or participate in virtual trainings.
"Everyone's frustrated with what's happened with Dobbs," Murillo said. "But I think we still need to find moments of joy, and moments of community. Maybe people think there isn't anything to celebrate, but I think the fact that we're still here and that we're still finding ways to be there for our community is reason enough to come together and celebrate what we can accomplish."
Our Justice promotes a hybrid advocacy-event campaign known as House Parties, where hosts invite members of their family, community, and friends to their homes to have casual, personal discussions on abortion care. Our Justice can even provide their own trained "party ambassadors," a group made up of volunteers, to support individuals planning events. Planned Parenthood Action Fund also has its own guide to throwing an abortion access house party(opens in a new tab).
"What I encourage folks to do is to be the abortion access expert for their friend groups, for their community, their neighbors," Taylor added. "Make sure you're up to date and informed, that you have the information that you can share with that friend who calls you and says, 'Oh, my God, I'm pregnant. I don't know what to do.'" She recommends having resource websites on hand, like NeedAbortion.org(opens in a new tab), INeedAnA.com(opens in a new tab), or PlanCPill.org(opens in a new tab). Taylor also is actively looking for college campus ambassadors who can help further this goal, and possibly expand the YOU Center(opens in a new tab) to more outposts.
"This has been an opportunity for us to really sit, pause, and think about how we got here. Not as far as what other people did. But what were the compromises that we made that allowed us to get into this position?" Njoku asked. "I believe that this work that we're doing right now is the opportunity to lay the foundation of what the next 50 years and beyond can look like.
"Folks are coming together because they really do believe that we should eliminate barriers to abortion access. For me, and my abortion fund homies who give me so much joy by seeing them get excited about bowling or dancing or tattooing or virtually reading together, I'm not going down being silent or letting fear or uncertainty cloud the reality that we deserve more than this."
