A disturbing emergency room video has gone viral that even I, a doctor who’s seen it all, had a hard time watching through to the end. In it, a Black woman writhes in pain during active labor (evident by her heavy breathing, intense pain, contractions that are close together, and screaming that she feels pressure, which is reflective of the baby descending into the birth canal). She’s rocking back and forth and swaying, trying to find the right position to provide relief. We hear her say the baby is coming — she’s had multiple births, so she’s no stranger to what birth feels like in her body.
Childbirth is considered a medical emergency. At this point in labor, certain risks to the baby increase, including potential cord compression or breathing difficulties. Healthcare providers should be watching the baby closely during these final moments to act quickly if any concerns arise. Instead, this nurse keeps her back turned, offering no intervention, no comfort, no care, just her face in a computer screen asking non-urgent intake questions like, “How many babies have you had?”
The woman’s mother captured this moment and shared it on social media, sparking outrage.
But here’s what troubles me most: This isn’t new.
As a physician, I’ve spent years listening to stories like this one. I’ve stood beside patients after they’ve been dismissed, ignored, and left to suffer. I nearly died myself during childbirth at the very hospital where I work. So when I watched this video, I felt that familiar combination of anger and heartbreak. But I also felt something else: a deep concern that our collective outrage would fade as quickly as it came.
Because the truth is, for every viral video, there are countless moments we never see. Moments where Black women are treated as if their pain doesn’t matter. Moments that end in preventable complications, near-death experiences, or death itself.
This isn’t just about one nurse
The statistics confirm this is a pattern: In this country, Black women die at three times the rate of white women during pregnancy or shortly after childbirth. This disparity cuts across every social and economic line. It doesn’t matter how much money you make, what your profession is, or what kind of healthcare you have access to. This can happen to any Black woman.
A 2016 study found that medical students believed their Black patients experienced less pain and had less sensitive nerve endings.
That reality should shake us to our core.
The care — or lack thereof — shown in this video is symptomatic of something much larger. It reflects centuries of medical racism, of Black bodies being dehumanized, of Black women’s pain being minimized or ignored entirely.
What happened to that woman in the delivery room has been happening for generations. The voices of Black physicians online offer hope that we can change this trajectory, but only if all of us — physicians, physician assistants, nurse practitioners, nurses, healthcare administrators, and people outside of healthcare — commit to action. Because speaking up isn’t enough, we need to put our resources, our time, and our advocacy behind the organizations working to end this crisis.
Turning a viral moment into change
If this video moved you, if it made you angry or sad or both, now comes the hard part: the action.
This video needs to be more than another share, more than another post that racks up views and fades into the algorithm. Black women will still be dying after this video stops trending. Black mothers will still be suffering preventable complications when your feed moves on to something else. Black families will still be losing people they love long after the outrage quiets down.
So let the views you generated translate into real support for those doing the work on the ground.
Support the organizations doing the work. Organizations and nonprofits, such as The BirthFund, spearheaded by Elaine Welteroth, BLK Maternal Health Collective, Pregnant with Possibilities, Black Mamas Matter Alliance, and Advancing Health Equity, are fighting this crisis on the front lines. Birth centers, doulas, and midwives are offering care models that prioritize dignity, support, and improved outcomes.
Recognize the power of advocacy. In that video, one detail stood out to me: That woman had an advocate. Her mother was there, phone in hand, bearing witness. If you’re pregnant or planning to become pregnant, bring someone with you to every appointment and hospital visit. Bring someone who will speak for you when you can’t talk, who will question when something doesn’t feel right, and who will document what’s happening. If you can’t bring someone, use your phone. Record what’s being said. Call a friend and keep them on the line. You shouldn’t have to do this, but until our system changes, you should try to have someone with you.
Find clinicians who will listen. This woman didn’t have the luxury of choice in an emergency, but if you’re seeking care, you deserve a provider who will believe you. Resources like Clinicians Who Care exist to help you find healthcare providers with a proven track record of listening. Our system wasn’t built to serve women, especially women of color, but we’re building networks to help you navigate it.
Don’t let it end with the video. Don’t let it end with the post. Put action behind it. Listen to the women sharing their birth stories and support them. Demand accountability from healthcare institutions. Vote for policies that protect maternal health. Amplify the voices of Black women and the providers who serve them.
Because that woman in the video deserved better, every Black woman who walks into a delivery room deserves better. And it’s on all of us to make that happen.
A message to my fellow healthcare workers
I need to say something directly to everyone who works in healthcare:
Remember why you went into this field. Remember the moment you decided you wanted to help people, to ease suffering, to save lives.
Now imagine yourself in that hospital room. Imagine you’re the one in pain, vulnerable, afraid. Imagine the person who’s supposed to care for you turns their back.
That moment of empathy, of truly putting yourself in someone else’s position, can prevent the kind of care we saw in that video. It can save lives.
You have more power than you realize. The way you listen, the way you respond to pain, the way you advocate within your institution, it all matters. When you witness dismissive care, speak up. When you see protocols or workplace culture that fail patients, push for change. When you feel yourself becoming numb to suffering, pause and reconnect with your purpose.
This crisis stems from systemic failures, yes. But it also exists because of thousands of individual moments where someone decided another person’s pain didn’t matter enough.
