2nd place — 2025 BIPOC essay contest: Naveyah Boykin

FFRF awarded Naveyah $3,000.

By Naveyah Boykin

All right, so here’s how it really feels: I’m a young Black woman, right? And, honestly, nothing chills me more than the idea that a bunch of total strangers — mostly white dudes, usually with some Christian nationalist thing going on in the background — think they get to make the rules about my body. Wild. Apparently, I’m not an actual person to them; I’m some kind of symbol or a prop in their political theater. Meanwhile, to me, this body is where I keep all my plans, my fears, everything that makes me, me. Why should some old politician’s interpretation of religion get to veto my choices? Nah.

The way I see it, white Christian nationalism is not your average Sunday church crowd. We’re talking about a political movement, built around the idea that America is for white Christians, period. That’s the dream for them. Control who counts, who gets rights, and, yup, literally, who controls our bodies. You cannot convince me otherwise. Reproductive freedom is right at the center of this battle.

Let’s talk about what happened after Roe v. Wade got trashed. State after state lined up to ban abortion, like it was some kind of contest. Guess who feels the pain the most? Women of color — Black women, especially. Black moms already die way more from pregnancy than white moms. The stats aren’t even close. Now, take away safe abortion, and that number only goes up. The wild part? They’re justifying all of this using their own brand of Christianity, like everyone in this country signed up to live by their church’s code. Nope, that’s not how this is supposed to work.

Where I grew up, health clinics are vanishing, and, as for info? It’s basically a game of telephone; good luck figuring out what’s true. You sit around with girlfriends, and it’s like, “What happens if I get assaulted?” or “What if I’m not ready to be a mom?” I mean, can we just live? Why should a lawmaker’s bible tell me what to do?

Here’s the thing: I won’t just sit quietly and watch all this roll over us. Never been my style. I’m not religious and I’ve always felt like the church and government need a permanent breakup. So, I talk. A lot. In class. With friends on campus. Even online when it matters. Silence? That’s just letting them win. Also, yeah, I support the folks fighting for reproductive rights and try to make sure people near me know how to vote on this stuff.

White Christian nationalism? It runs on fear and keeps people quiet. If we speak up, we mess with their whole system. Solidarity, truth — basic bravery — that’s the antidote. We have to defend the right to choose. Not in theory, in real life. Not for just ourselves, but for every single person who’s tired of being treated like someone else’s talking point.

End of the day, this stuff is so much bigger than just politics. We’re talking about our actual lives — our bodies, our futures and our damn humanity. I’m not giving up on any of that.

Naveyah, 20, is from Massachusetts and is attending Lincoln University with plans to get a degree in education. Naveyah writes: “I am the first in my family to attend college. As a young Black girl who navigates between predominantly white spaces and the rich legacy of an HBCU, I have learned the value of speaking powerfully to serve others. I work as a substitute teacher, which has given me the chance to mentor and encourage students from my community.”