AMSA Reproductive Health Project
June 2025 Essay Contest Winner: Medical Student Category
Student Name: Temiloluwa Owolabi
I often wonder where I can practice medicine without compromising the values that are dear to me, if pursuing certain specialties also means preparing for legal battles or if I can be the doctor my patients need without putting my license or future at risk. These questions stay with me, not just because they challenge my career plans but because they shake the core of why I chose medicine in the first place. Yet here I am, a future physician preparing to enter the U.S. healthcare system in the aftermath of Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, and these uncertainties shape every decision I make.
Born and raised in Nigeria, where conversations about reproductive health were rare and abortion was both illegal and morally condemned. The idea was unthinkable. If I had become pregnant outside of marriage, the decision would have already been made for me. There would be no choice. Choosing medicine was my way of breaking that silence. I believed and still believe that my body belongs to me, and the decisions concerning it should too.
I thought of the United States as a symbol of patient-centered care and medical autonomy but the Dobbs decision in 2022 changed that perception. It did not just overturn decades of legal protection for abortion; it challenged the foundation of ethical practice in medicine. The boundary between healthcare and government interference became dangerously unclear. Twelve states have banned abortion entirely, and many others have implemented harsh restrictions. Even where abortion remains legal, the impact of Dobbs lingers. Medical schools hesitate to teach essential procedures. Students are uncertain about what they can safely ask. Providers second-guess what they can say or do. Fear replaces trust, and silence replaces dialogue.
Planning to practice medicine in the U.S., I have always had a clear picture of the kind of physician I wanted to be. I imagined sitting across patients in their most vulnerable moments, offering clarity instead of confusion and standing by their choices with empathy and strength. I was taught that medicine was about trust and honoring autonomy. I never imagined that in a country I once viewed as a global model of medical freedom, those values would be under threat. The Dobbs decision did not just change a law; it reminded me that even in places with strong institutions, basic human rights are never guaranteed and that borders certainly do not protect rights. I went from planning to apply broadly to residency programs across the U.S. based on mentorship and academic fit to weighing in legal landscapes and abortion policies. This legal and ethical uncertainty places future physicians in a difficult position. The divide between what we are taught is right and what is legally allowed continues to widen. I want to grow into the best physician I can be but I must also consider where I will be legally protected for practicing evidence-based care.
Scrolling through TikTok one day, I came across a video by creator Becca Bloom, who said, “Most criticisms fail because they only recognize what is broken, not what will work better within the constraints.” That got me thinking: what can we, as future physicians, do within the constraints of the Dobbs ruling? As political forces reshape healthcare, we must assert our voices not just in hospitals but also in policy conversations. Physicians must now take more active roles in legal and social movements that advocate for reproductive rights. We are entering an era where healing also means resisting harmful policies that threaten patient autonomy and dignity.
Supporting patients’ decisions go beyond presenting options. It requires creating a space where patients feel safe and heard, regardless of where they come from or what choices they face. Our duty doesn’t just stop at the bedside with individual patients. It means advocating for them, educating ourselves and others, challenging harmful narratives, and integrating reproductive care into everyday medical conversations. Advocacy can simply involve volunteering with abortion support networks, writing to lawmakers about harmful legislation or speaking up when a policy undermines what we know to be good, evidence-based care. As medical students, residents and future physicians, the choices we make shape the future of medicine. I believe medicine, at its core, is a form of resistance against illnesses, injustice and silence.
This is not just a reflection; it is a promise. Because, in the end, it is not only about who makes the decision – it is about who has to live with it.
