It’s 108 degrees outside as Mayra Rodriguez guides her Winnebago into the parking lot of a Hispanic grocery store in North Phoenix, a few weeks before election day.
“You get sweaty. It is hot, right?” Rodriguez, 48, muses. “And this is what I tell my children and any people that complain about this heat: If you don’t like the heat, then imagine hell.”
Rodriguez is the state director for Moms for Arizona, an anti-abortion group campaigning against Proposition 139, a ballot measure that would expand access to abortion in the state. Her Winnebago is a roving billboard, emblazoned with warnings about what she believes are the dangers of abortion — English on one side, Spanish on the other.
Rodriguez exits the RV and begins passing out flyers to shoppers, imploring them in Spanish to vote against Prop 139. She’s deliberately targeting fellow Latinos because of their voting power, constituting almost 25% of the electorate here in Arizona — a big enough bloc to help decide the outcome of the ballot measure, which would enshrine the right to an abortion in the state’s constitution if passed.
Yet, Rodriguez faces an uphill battle. Recent polling — which categorized ethnicity as Hispanic — suggests around 60% of Hispanic voters in Arizona support Prop 139, a greater proportion than white respondents. That mirrors national trends, too. Pew Research Center polling shows that 62% of Hispanics in the U.S. believe abortion should be legal in all or most cases. Twenty years ago, only around a third of Latinos supported abortion rights. So, what accounts for the dramatic shift in opinion?
Rodriguez has one guess.
“Twenty years ago, people were more religious,” she says. “Latino people, you know, they were more active as Catholics. As you can see, the Catholics have really dropped.”
Several national polls in 2023 showed a considerable drop in the number of Latinos in the U.S. who identify as Catholic over the past few decades.
Rodriguez has a unique perspective on the transformation of Latinos on the issue of abortion. For 16 years, she worked at Planned Parenthood in Arizona. Her opinion began to change as she rose in the organization and gained more exposure to its abortion services. Once she left, she became an activist for the other side.
“My son says, ‘Mom, you’re swimming against the current,’” she says. “When I was on the abortion side, most Hispanics were against abortion. And now, I’m on the pro-life side and a lot of Hispanics are going in the opposite direction.”
Arizona’s abortion policy has been on a winding journey since Roe v. Wade was overturned in the summer of 2022. In April of this year, the state’s Supreme Court ruled that an 1864 law banning nearly all abortions — passed before Arizona became a state — was enforceable in the absence of federal protections for abortion rights. Around a month later, the Arizona legislature repealed that law, leaving in place a 2022 law allowing abortions up to 15 weeks into a pregnancy.
If Prop 139 passes in November, abortions will be legal up to the point of fetal viability, which is generally considered to be around 22 weeks.
The threat of those rights being taken away in the aftermath of the Dobbs decision may also explain the rising support for abortion among Latinos.
“I was really mad,” says Raquel Salas, a 47-year-old educator in the Phoenix area, who emigrated from Hermosillo, Mexico in 2011. “Why are you taking away more rights for women?”
Salas grew up in a Catholic family that never spoke about abortion. But she drifted away from the church after coming to the U.S., and her views on abortion have become more complicated over time.
“Still today, if you ask me, ‘Do you agree with abortion?’ If I need to answer that question in one word, I would say ‘No.’ But it’s not a white and black thing,” she says. “And the way I see it right now is you don’t take the right away from everybody just because some people will use it as a contraceptive, which is what I’m really against. But I know there’s many different shades.”
Salas even went to an abortion rights rally at the state capitol with her daughter, Rebeca, after the Dobbs decision. She believes other Latinos are also beginning to support abortion because of a perception that rights have been eroded more generally since the Trump administration.
“After Trump’s presidency, a lot of people got scared,” she says. “Many of our rights were being endangered. And when they start limiting rights, they’re affecting the most underserved population. And if you did this to my neighbor, what’s coming next?”
Other immigrants from Latin America can point to their home countries for reasons to support abortion rights in the U.S.
“I know what’s coming for you now,” says Margarita Acosta, 69, who emigrated from Colombia in the ‘80s. She now lives in Cochise Stronghold, a narrow canyon of craggy granite 90 minutes southeast of Tucson.
Acosta was 29 and living in Bogotá when she found out she was pregnant. Abortion was illegal in Colombia at the time, and being caught in a clinic could be punishable by jail time.
“When you realize you are pregnant, now what are you going to do? Who are you going to call? How are you going to do this?”
Acosta eventually found a secret clinic and made an appointment. When she arrived, the doctor told her she wouldn’t be given any anesthesia because she had come alone, and would need to walk out on her own.
“It was painful,” she says, recounting the experience. The doctor warned her not to return to the clinic even if she began to bleed excessively. “It was very sad, you know, to be alone and in silence. So of course it was very hard.”
Four years later she moved to Arizona, and didn’t speak publicly about the experience for almost 40 years. But then, in 2022, Colombia and the U.S. each saw upheavals in their respective abortion policies. In February of that year, Colombia’s Constitutional Court legalized abortion up to 24 weeks; four months later, the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade.
Acosta now speaks publicly about what she went through. She believes that the liberalization of abortion policies around Latin America — the so-called Green Wave — has led to greater support among Latinos for abortion rights in the U.S. too, especially because people like her know what’s at stake.
“When something is illegal, you have to go underground, and there’s a lot of people waiting to take advantage of that,” she says. “You have to pay attention.”
Transcript:
AILSA CHANG, HOST:
I’m inside a Winnebago.
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON: OK, hold on. I’m going test the brakes, all right?
(SOUNDBITE OF OBJECTS BANGING)
CHANG: Those brakes work.
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON: Are you OK?
CHANG: I’m OK. Thank you.
All right, I’ll explain why we’re in an RV in a moment. But we’re here in Arizona all week because this is a state that President Biden won by a sliver back in 2020, by just over 10,000 votes. And Arizona Latinos helped deliver that victory. They’re a quarter of all eligible voters in this state. And that’s the largest percentage of Latino voters in any battleground state.
MAYRA RODRIGUEZ: On your next light, that’s when you’re going to turn left.
CHANG: And that is why Mayra Rodriguez is going directly after this bloc of voters on the issue she cares the most about – abortion – even if it means enduring lousy air conditioning in this RV when it’s 108 degrees outside.
RODRIGUEZ: You get sweaty. It is hot, right? And this is what I tell my children and any people that complain about this heat. If you don’t like the heat, then imagine hell, right?
CHANG: Hell, to Rodriguez, would be seeing Prop 139 pass. That’s a ballot measure that would expand access to abortion beyond the current 15 weeks here in Arizona and would enshrine it as a right under the state’s Constitution, which brings us back to the Winnebago.
RODRIGUEZ: We cannot afford the big billboard and the big media. The other side can.
CHANG: And you figure, why do I need to buy a whole bunch of billboards if I have one movable billboard?
RODRIGUEZ: Exactly what we thought, right?
CHANG: This movable billboard is emblazoned with urgent warnings about abortion. But Rodriguez has an uphill battle because, according to Pew Research Center, 62% of Latinos believe abortion should be legal in all or most cases. But 20 years ago, only a third felt that way. So we wanted to know why is this shift happening? Why are Latino voters in this country changing their minds about abortion? To help us answer that question, we talked to four Latinas here in Arizona of different generations.
RODRIGUEZ: See, we can drive it around and if this is our best spot, then we’ll park here.
CHANG: Mayra Rodriguez offers one explanation as we’re lumbering along the streets of North Phoenix.
RODRIGUEZ: I think that 20 years ago, people were more religious, meaning that…
CHANG: You mean Latino people?
RODRIGUEZ: Latino people, you know, they were more active as Catholics. As you can see, the Catholic have really dropped. A lot of them…
CHANG: We’re pulling into a parking lot outside a Hispanic grocery store, and Rodriguez starts passing out flyers to shoppers.
RODRIGUEZ: (Speaking Spanish).
CHANG: This election means so much to her. It’s the first time Rodriguez will ever be voting in the U.S. She just became a citizen last year after arriving here from Mexico City 30 years ago. Back then, she supported abortion rights. She even got a job at Planned Parenthood. But, you know, after a decade and a half there, her opinion began to change.
RODRIGUEZ: It’s very easy when you sell the idea of abortion and describe it when it’s on paper and very different when you get to see the aftermath of the abortion or where you are in the abortion facility.
CHANG: You know, I can’t help but realize as we’re talking that you moved from maybe a more progressive place on abortion to a more conservative place, which is sort of the opposite direction than many Latino voters in the U.S.
RODRIGUEZ: Yeah, actually, my kid would agree with you. My son says, like, Mom, you’re, like, swimming against the current because, you know, when I was on the abortion side, most of Hispanics were against abortion. And now, I’m on the pro-life side. A lot of Hispanics are going in the opposite direction.
CHANG: At this point, a woman driving by gives her the finger. Rodriguez barely flinches because she gets this a lot. She’s been cut off on the road, harassed by drivers, shooed away from parking lots by police and store owners. And just last week, someone vandalized the RV door.
RODRIGUEZ: Because they tried to break in on it right here.
CHANG: But every now and then, Rodriguez does connect with someone, like Joe Hernandez (ph), who spots the RV in the parking lot and walks right up.
JOE HERNANDEZ: I’m not a woman, but you got to let it live. You can’t stop, you know, what God does. You know, it’s not right if you believe in God.
RAQUEL SALAS: I feel that the perception is that we don’t have abortions because we live inside the Catholic church, and we just follow – whatever the priest says, we will do it. In general, the perception of Latinos is so wrong.
CHANG: This is Raquel Salas (ph). We met up with her and her daughter, Rebecca (ph), who was home from college for the weekend.
REBECCA SALAS: This is, like, clothes that I, like, washed here.
CHANG: You bring your laundry home…
REBECCA SALAS: Yes.
CHANG: …Even though you’re an hour-and-a-half drive away?
REBECCA SALAS: Yes.
CHANG: (Laughter).
The Salas family emigrated from Hermosillo, Mexico in 2011, when Rebecca was just 7 years old. And when she was growing up, the mere topic of abortion never came up. And Raquel says that was true for her, too, as a girl in Mexico. Abortion – it was taboo.
RAQUEL SALAS: It was not an option. So my mom got pregnant when she was 16. So she had me at 17. Back then, when girls got pregnant, they either came to the U.S. to get an abortion so nobody knew, or they would force them to get married.
CHANG: Because abortion was largely illegal throughout…
RAQUEL SALAS: It was illegal, and it was…
CHANG: …Mexico until just last year.
RAQUEL SALAS: Yes. You don’t talk about it. It’s bad.
CHANG: But not talking about it? Well, all of that changed between Raquel and Rebecca on June 24, 2022, when the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. Rebecca was on a trip in Italy when she found out.
REBECCA SALAS: The first thing I did was call my mom. And I was like, what is going on? I don’t understand. And, you know, we talked about it, but I was just – I was livid.
CHANG: When Rebecca got home, she and her mom joined a protest at the state Capitol, even though Raquel’s views on abortion remain complicated.
RAQUEL SALAS: Still today, if you ask me, do you agree with abortion? – if I need to answer that question in one word, I would say no. But it’s not a white-and-black thing. And the way I see it right now is you don’t take the right away from everybody just because some people will use it as a contraceptive, which is what I’m really against. But I know there’s many different shades.
CHANG: You don’t feel that your personal beliefs should block access to abortions for other…
RAQUEL SALAS: Exactly.
CHANG: …People.
RAQUEL SALAS: I should not take that right away from anyone.
CHANG: Now, both Raquel and Rebecca say they would never get an abortion themselves, but they both want to protect access for others. I asked them if they knew why more and more Latinos feel that way too.
RAQUEL SALAS: I’m guessing, but I know that after Trump’s presidency, a lot of people got scared. Many of our rights were being endangered. And when they start limiting rights, they’re affecting the most underserved population. You know, and if you did this to my neighbor, what’s coming next?
(SOUNDBITE OF BIRD CHIRPING)
CHANG: Well, a few hours southeast of Phoenix, we meet someone who believes she knows all too well what’s coming next.
MARGARITA ACOSTA: This place is very magical.
CHANG: We’re in Cochise Stronghold, a remote canyon dotted with craggy, granite boulders. This place was named after an Apache leader who stood up to U.S. federal troops in the 19th century.
ACOSTA: I can feel very connected with nature, with the ancestors, with…
CHANG: Margarita Acosta was drawn to the energy of this land two decades ago.
ACOSTA: So when you start, you know, feeling like that, oh, you don’t feel little anymore.
CHANG: Acosta has found peace here. She’s only just started talking publicly about something that happened 40 years ago.
ACOSTA: When you realize you are pregnant, now what are you going to do? Who are you going to call? How are you going to do this?
CHANG: Acosta was 29 and living in Bogota when she found out she was pregnant, but abortion was illegal in Colombia at the time. You could spend years in prison just for getting caught inside a clinic. Still, she knew she did not want to have the baby. So she found a secret clinic and made an appointment.
ACOSTA: I remember, like, just a regular apartment complex. It was on the third floor, and there was no lift.
CHANG: No elevator.
ACOSTA: No elevator. And doctor said, like, did you come alone? I said, yeah. And he said, well, no anesthesia because you’re going to have to walk outside yourself. I’m like, OK. OK. So he did his thing and then, you know, they gave me a pad. And he said, you know, if – you’re going to bleed a lot. But if it’s more than three days and it’s a lot, and it’s a lot of pain, go to the emergency room. Don’t come here.
CHANG: Right.
ACOSTA: I’m like, OK. I remember going down the steps, just looking at the at the floor. And I had high heels on.
CHANG: Acosta says she actually considered herself lucky because she physically recovered and was able to emigrate to Arizona four years later.
Why do you think it took you 40 years to talk about it then?
ACOSTA: I don’t – because it’s so covered with shame. It’s covered with shame and silence. Like, we don’t talk about this.
CHANG: When you first came to the U.S., you knew it was legal, abortion. Roe v. Wade was the law of the land. Did you have the sense that, like, it would always be legal here? What did the U.S. feel like in that sense, compared to Colombia?
ACOSTA: Well, more freedom, of course, you know? Because once you have something like that banned, you set the opportunity for people to take advantage of that. When something is illegal, you have to go underground.
CHANG: Almost 40 years later, after you arrived here, the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. What went through your mind at that point?
ACOSTA: It was the same year that it was legalized in Colombia.
CHANG: Exactly. Two things going in opposite directions at the exact same time.
ACOSTA: Right.
CHANG: What did that feel like?
ACOSTA: Maybe we were not behind. Maybe we were ahead.
CHANG: You mean Colombia?
ACOSTA: Yeah. Maybe this country that they say that we’re behind, maybe we’re ahead because I know what’s coming for you now. You have to pay attention.
CHANG: Pay attention, she says, to what can happen when a country curtails the right to choose.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)
CHANG: The story of Colombia points to another reason we heard this week for the rising support of abortion rights among Latinos. They see laws changing in their home countries. The so-called green wave has expanded abortion access in Latin American countries like Argentina, Mexico, as well as Colombia. And now, three weeks from today, Latino voters will help decide the future of abortion rights right here in Arizona.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)
CHANG: Tomorrow our series We, The Voters continues in Arizona, where we visit a Spanish language radio network committed to fighting election disinformation.
(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)