There are some experiences and realities that pregnant and birthing people face that are left out of popular narratives or texts like What To Expect When You’re Expecting. From racism in a gynecologist’s office or the delivery room, to navigating race- and class-based microaggressions while pregnant, there are countless ways in which the lived experience of marginalized folks who are pregnant, or plan to become pregnant, are impacted by surveillance and discrimination. But even though these experiences are common to marginalized pregnant people, I have yet to thumb through a mainstream pregnancy resource that offers advice on how to deal with these situations, even though they impact the emotional (and physical) wellbeing of both parent and baby.

As a doula who primarily worked with pregnant and birthing people in underserved communities long before I was pregnant, I supported people through difficult or emotionally laborious moments brought on by systemic inequity and structural violence. As a Black, nonbinary femme, I experienced some of those moments myself when I was pregnant.

Whether I was facing racism in an exam room or coping with body dysphoria as my pregnancy progressed (amongst all the other complicated moments during pregnancy that you do hear all about in all the bestsellers), the intersections of race, class, gender, and ability merged with my experiences as a pregnant person and the effects were often stressful. Thankfully, I had the support of an incredible trans doula of color who taught me to advocate for myself in ways that my own doula training couldn’t have prepared me for.

My partner and I knew from the beginning that we would find a doula to support me through pregnancy, birth, and the postpartum period. Since I’m a doula myself, I know firsthand how important it is that people have access to doulas to get critical support during a transitional and transformative time in their lives. My goal was to find a nonbinary doula of color to support me.

While pregnant I suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum (a condition that affects between 0.3 and 2.3 percent of pregnant people and causes extreme nausea and vomiting which can lead to dehydration, weight loss, and sometimes even hospitalization), in addition to exacerbated chronic pain issues. I ultimately had to leave school and my job in order to stay home. I was vomiting several times a day, every single day. I was barely able to walk, I couldn’t bathe myself, some days it was difficult to use the bathroom on my own, due to the pain and weakness. Eventually, the search for a doula led me to Luar who happened to be a high school friend of my partner.

Prior to becoming my doula, Luar was my friend. As a trans, nonbinary, Latinx full spectrum doula—meaning that they support pregnant and birthing people through experiences that range from birth and postpartum care to abortions— Luar’s birthwork was heavily informed by their radical politics and knowledge of how oppressive structures impact the lived experiences of marginalized folks. As fellow doulas, before I was pregnant myself, we would exchange books and share stories about healing and coping under white supremacist, heteronormative patriarchy.

Although I had a lifetime of experience dealing with white supremacy and patriarchy, navigating it all as a pregnant person exposed me to even more instances of microaggressions, exclusion, and discrimination. Most spaces and services for pregnant and birthing people are heavily gendered and rarely actively inclusive of people with non-normative gender identities. They mostly center the narratives of heterosexual cis women who are white and have access to quality medical services.