Film Shows Devastation of Black Maternal Mortality — and Calls for Change

The pain of preventable loss is palpable in Aftershock, a documentary about Black women’s maternal mortality that is currently streaming on Hulu. Produced by Paula Eiselt and Tonya Lewis Lee, the movie delivers on its title, as in the film’s opening sequence the earthquake of maternal mortality disrupts a montage of family videos. Shamony Gibson, one of the two central ancestors featured heavily in this film, is vibrant. She laughs with her mother, activist Shawnee Benton Gibson. She cuddles her first child, Anari. She jokes with her partner and sister. She looks forward to the birth of her second child, Khari.

The video that ends the opening montage is one she recorded especially for her baby son, Khari. We see Shamony revel in her growing belly. “Time is flying. Four months already …” she tells the camera. “I’m that much closer to being a mom again …” She calls Khari “sweet baby,” telling him she is hoping for a home birth. The haunting lightness of the FKA twigs song, appropriately called “Sad Day,” gives us a clue to the revelation that happens in the next few seconds. Family members we’ve seen laughing in earlier clips from the home videos are now somber and watching Shamony on a big screen in an impersonal space. Something horrible has happened. A little before minute 5, Aftershock delivers its first blow, the earthquake before the tsunami of emotions that will come in waves as the documentary progresses. The first voiceover we hear comes from Shamony’s partner, Omari: “It’s been four months and three days since she passed away. It feels like it was last week.”

According to the Population Reference Bureau, Black women are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than are white women. Postpartum heart failure, blood pressure disorders, hemorrhage, and blood clots are some of the medical issues that affect Black women at a disproportionate rate, but not because of any “natural” vulnerability to these conditions. Rather, when these conditions meet the implicit bias of individual practitioners, the collision can be deadly. Shamony Gibson’s observations about the changes going on in her postpartum body could have saved her life — if only they were taken seriously at her hospital. As Serena Williams’ experience illustrates, the greatest postpartum threat to Black women is the indifference of the professionals responsible for their care. Aftershock shows that when Black women’s concerns are dismissed, the aftershock affects the entire Black community; the parents, partners, and siblings of the deceased are left to name the institutions and attitudes that endangered their loved ones.

Beginning with Omari’s voice is just one way that Eiselt and Lewis Lee connect the affected women to the people who love them. Because Shamony’s family felt that she was objectified by the medical professionals who were supposed to care for her, Omari’s activist art is especially touching. Shamony is not an object to Omari; she is the subject of her partner’s intense concentration as he paints her portrait to connect to her spirit. As Omari expands his portraiture project to include other Black mothers who suffered preventable deaths, he galvanizes a group of single fathers across the country who are determined to fight for justice. Bruce McIntyre, partner of the late Amber Rose Isaac, is one of the men whose grief spurs activism. Bruce and Omari forge a friendship that transforms their individual grief into community activism.

This isn’t Eiselt’s first time highlighting community-based activism. In her 2018 film, 93Queen, she followed a group of women living in a Hasidic Brooklyn community who create “the first all-female volunteer ambulance corps in New York City.” Like Aftershock, 93Queen is essentially a story of hope in the power of the people.

Aftershock pushes viewers toward political involvement with a story arc that moves from the heartbreak of personal, preventable death to the introduction of the Black Maternal Health Momnibus Act, introduced by Rep. Lauren Underwood, Rep. Alma Adams, Sen. Cory Booker, and members of the Black Maternal Health Caucus. Congress isn’t the only or ultimate site of change in Aftershock. Omari and Bruce hold grief groups for grieving single fathers; Shawnee Benton Gibson organizes awareness-raising celebrations of life for Shamony; Neel Shah, a Harvard doctor, hosts discussion groups in the medical community; and groups of midwives work to give women more say and control in the birth process.

Each featured character shows a different path to change. Omari Maynard started the Ariah Foundation to “... support individuals, families and communities who experience the devastating Aftershock associated with maternal/infant morbidity and mortality.” Shawnee Benton Gibson started the Spirit of a Woman Leadership Development Institute to organize and develop leadership skills in women who’ve been impacted by systemic racism. Bruce McIntyre created the Save a Rose Foundation to bring a midwife-led birthing center to the Bronx, improving birth outcomes for women who are neglected in traditional medical spaces.

Aftershock is the long-form illustration of a metaphor Shawnee Benton Gibson often uses to explain what happened to her family after Shamony’s death. The death of a Black mother, she says, is like an earthquake. What happens afterward is the tsunami. May the waves of grief that all of the impacted families experience be followed by waves of change.