As Deputy Director, Jones isn’t just steering strategy—she’s shaping the internal culture of the organization. She works closely with staff, board members, interns, and volunteers to ensure that SisterSong’s mission reflects the lived experiences and priorities of women of color.

Back in 2020, we spoke with Jones about how the early days of the pandemic were reshaping SisterSong’s work and what COVID-19 meant for Black birthing people across the South. Now, we’ve reconnected to talk about what’s changed, what hasn’t, and how SisterSong is navigating the political and cultural crosscurrents of the present moment—finding new ways forward, even as fresh obstacles emerge.

Attia Taylor: How has SisterSong evolved in its approach to Black maternal health and birth justice over the past few years?

Leah Jones: SisterSong has always been at the forefront of the reproductive justice movement, but over the past few years, we’ve deepened our focus on reproductive justice by expanding our policy advocacy, and culture shift strategies, investing in community-led initiatives and building stronger networks. We’ve seen how systemic barriers—whether through Medicaid coverage gaps or restrictive and dangerous legislation—disproportionately impact Black and marginalized communities and we remain committed to amplifying the voices of those we serve. 

With so many new policies and institutional changes happening across the US, how is SisterSong continuing to advocate for improved birth outcomes for Black and marginalized communities?

We’re doubling down on our grassroots organizing. We’re tracking and challenging harmful policies while pushing for solutions that center Black maternal health, such as investments in Black-led doula and midwifery programs. SisterSong’s Birth Justice Care Fund has served hundreds of individuals and families in Georgia, North Carolina, Kentucky and Florida and has spent over $1 million on birth services and essential birthing items. In 2024, we added maternal mental health therapy to the services in the care fund. We recognize that reproductive justice must include not only physical health but also emotional and psychological well-being. The trauma of medical racism, pregnancy complications, infertility struggles, and birth experiences, especially for Black birthing people, can have lasting mental health impacts.

How has the economic climate impacted the work of birth workers and the communities you serve?

The economic strain has made an already inequitable healthcare system even harder to navigate. Rising costs of living mean that many Black families are struggling to afford basic prenatal and postpartum care, let alone out-of-pocket doula services. Birth workers, especially those operating outside of hospital systems, are also feeling the financial burden, often providing care without sustainable funding or personal self-care. This is why we’re advocating for independent birth workers so they can continue offering essential care.

What are the most pressing legislative threats or barriers to reproductive justice that people should be paying attention to right now?

Right now, the rollback of abortion rights and state level bills criminalizing pregnancy outcomes and restricting reproductive healthcare funding are moving quickly. People need to stay vigilant and engaged in policy fights, because these issues impact everything from birth outcomes to Black families’ ability to plan their futures.

You’ve spoken about the intersection of art and activism before—how has your artistic practice continued to inform your work?

Art has always been a tool for resistance and storytelling. Whether it’s visual art, poetry, or performance, creative expression helps us communicate the urgency of our fight in ways that policy papers and data alone cannot.

“We use artistic practice and culture shift strategies to uplift the stories of Black women navigating pregnancy, birth, and infertility, making sure that their experiences are not just statistics but deeply felt narratives that inspire action.”

How do you personally stay grounded in this work, and what advice do you have for other activists navigating burnout and fatigue?

For me, staying grounded looks like remembering the why. This work is heavy, but it’s also about joy, healing, and liberation. I stay connected to elders, my family and our partners on the ground doing the work every day. I also set boundaries. Knowing when to pause, when to delegate, and when to lean into joy. My advice? Build a strong support system, listen to your body, and remind yourself that rest is not a reward—it’s a necessity for sustainable activism.

Are there any upcoming campaigns, training, or SisterSong events that people should be looking out for?

Yes! We’re organizing our (in)Fertility and Family Building Convening in Georgia during our second annual Black (in)Fertility Awareness Week (July 28th- August 2nd) that will bring together community members and policy advocates to assess the state of fertility healthcare and reproductive health access. Every year we have a presence at the Essence festival in New Orleans, and in 2026 we’ll have another Let’s Talk about Sex Conference (location TBD). 

How can folks—especially those outside of direct birth work—support and uplift the mission of SisterSong right now?

There are so many ways to plug in. Donate to Black-led birth and reproductive justice organizations. If you have legal, communications, or policy skills, offer them to grassroots groups. Educate your networks, show up to rallies, and hold elected officials accountable.

If you could envision the ideal future for Black maternal health in the South, what would it look like, and what steps do we need to take to get there?

An ideal future is one where Black women and birthing people have full autonomy over their reproductive health, free from systemic racism and economic barriers. This means universal access to the healthcare we need, and policies that prioritize community-driven solutions over carceral approaches. To get there, we need sustained investments in Black maternal health.