You're so used to being mistreated that you don't recognize it
A new CDC survey has placed a number on what many mothers have long carried in silence: one in five women experience mistreatment during the most vulnerable passage of their lives, with Black and Hispanic mothers bearing a disproportionate share of that harm. The findings arrive against the backdrop of a deepening maternal mortality crisis in the United States, where the gap between the care women receive and the care they deserve has become, for some, a matter of life and death. What the data reveals is not merely a failure of individual providers, but a systemic normalization of neglect — one so pervasive that many women no longer recognize it as wrong.
- One in five women reported being ignored, shouted at, threatened, or denied consent during pregnancy and delivery — and for Black and Hispanic mothers, those numbers climb to nearly one in three.
- Black women die from pregnancy-related causes at more than twice the rate of other women, and more than 84% of those deaths were preventable, making mistreatment not just an indignity but a deadly force.
- Nearly half of all women surveyed never raised concerns with their providers — many because they had come to accept poor treatment as simply how things are, a silence that experts warn directly increases the risk of complications.
- Advocates describe a kind of institutional conditioning, where women become so accustomed to dismissal and disrespect that they lose the ability to name what is being done to them.
- Proposed remedies include diversifying healthcare workforces, training providers on unconscious bias, and expanding support for doulas and midwives — but systemic change remains slow against the urgency of the crisis.
A CDC survey of more than 2,400 women has put hard numbers to a quiet, widespread suffering: one in five women report being mistreated during pregnancy and childbirth. Among Black and Hispanic mothers, the figures are sharper — roughly three in ten say they were mistreated while giving birth, and four in ten report facing discrimination from their providers. The mistreatment ranged from being ignored or refused help, to being shouted at, threatened, or subjected to procedures without consent. One in eight Black mothers specifically cited racial discrimination.
These findings land in the middle of a maternal mortality crisis. Black women die from pregnancy-related causes at more than twice the rate of other women, and a separate CDC report found that over 84% of those deaths were preventable. Experts are clear: respectful, equitable care is not a courtesy — it is a clinical necessity. When women are dismissed or mistreated, they are less likely to seek help, and the risk of complications rises for both mother and child.
What makes the survey especially sobering is the silence it uncovered. Nearly half of all women said they never voiced concerns to their providers — most because they assumed poor treatment was normal. Nastassia Harris of the Perinatal Health Equity Initiative compared this conditioning to battered women's syndrome: women become so accustomed to mistreatment that they stop seeing it clearly. The paradox deepens when the data shows that despite all of this, most women reported satisfaction with their care — a sign of just how thoroughly inadequate treatment has been internalized as the standard.
The CDC's leadership has pointed toward concrete responses: building more diverse healthcare workforces, training providers to recognize unconscious bias, and better supporting doulas and midwives as advocates for new mothers. The data has named the problem. Whether the system will move with the urgency the moment demands remains the open question.
A new survey from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has documented what many women have long experienced but rarely seen quantified: one in five women report being mistreated during pregnancy and delivery. The numbers grow starker when broken down by race. About three in ten Black and Hispanic mothers say they were mistreated while giving birth, and four in ten report facing discrimination from their healthcare providers. The findings come from a survey of more than 2,400 women with at least one child under eighteen, conducted in late April, asking them to recall their experiences delivering their youngest child—typically at least five years prior.
The mistreatment takes concrete forms. Nearly one in ten women said providers ignored them, refused to help, or took unreasonable time responding to requests. About one in fifteen reported being shouted at or scolded by doctors, midwives, or nurses. Nearly four percent were threatened. Others described violations of physical privacy and providers withholding or forcing treatments without consent. When it comes to discrimination, roughly one in ten women cited their age or weight as the reason for poor treatment. One in eight Black mothers specifically reported racial discrimination.
What makes these numbers particularly troubling is the context in which they sit. The United States is in the grip of a maternal mortality crisis. Black women die from pregnancy and childbirth at more than twice the rate of other women. A separate CDC report found that more than eighty-four percent of pregnancy-related deaths could have been prevented. Experts argue that respectful care—equitable treatment, effective communication, being heard—is not a luxury but a critical component of keeping mothers alive.
Yet many women never voice their concerns. Nearly half of all women surveyed said they didn't ask questions or discuss worries with their providers, most often because they assumed what they were experiencing was normal. At least one in five held back because they felt embarrassed, didn't want to make a fuss, or feared their provider would think them difficult. Nastassia Harris, founding executive director of the Perinatal Health Equity Initiative, described the phenomenon bluntly: women become so accustomed to mistreatment that they stop recognizing it as such. "I liken it to battered women's syndrome," she said. "You're so used to being mistreated that you don't often recognize it."
The silence carries consequences. Dr. Wanda Barfield, director of the CDC's Division of Reproductive Health, noted that discrimination during prenatal care may discourage women from seeking help at all. When women don't voice concerns, the risk of pregnancy-related complications rises for both mother and child. The system, Harris emphasized, is broken for all women, but Black women bear the heaviest burden. The roots run deep—racism, sexism, and what she called misogynoir all shape how Black women are perceived and treated in healthcare settings.
Perhaps most striking is that despite the mistreatment and discrimination, the vast majority of women reported satisfaction with their care. This paradox underscores how normalized poor treatment has become. If women experienced what genuine, holistic care felt like, Harris suggested, they would see the sharp contrast in how they had actually been treated.
Addressing the problem will require systemic change. The CDC's chief medical officer, Dr. Debra Houry, pointed to concrete steps: hiring and retaining diverse healthcare workforces, training providers on unconscious bias and stigma, and better supporting doulas and midwives who can advocate for new mothers. The stakes are clear. As Houry put it, the health of mothers reflects the health of the nation. The question now is whether the healthcare system will act on that understanding.
Notable Quotes
Our system is broken for all women, but Black women bear the brunt of those inequities. A lot of that has to do with racism, the intersection of sexism and misogynoir, and how that actually impacts how Black women are seen and perceived in the health space.— Nastassia Harris, Perinatal Health Equity Initiative
We know that discrimination during prenatal care may be associated with reductions in seeking care. Women are reluctant to report their concerns, and as a result of not voicing concerns, there may be an increased risk for pregnancy-related complications for both mom and baby.— Dr. Wanda Barfield, CDC Division of Reproductive Health
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why do you think so many women don't report mistreatment in the moment, even when it's happening?
Because pregnancy is framed as a medical event, and women are taught to defer to authority in medical settings. You're vulnerable, in pain, dependent. And if you've never experienced respectful care, you don't have a reference point for what you're missing.
But the survey shows most women were satisfied with their care. How do you square that with the mistreatment data?
That's the heartbreaking part. Satisfaction and mistreatment aren't opposites in this context. Women are measuring themselves against a low bar. If you weren't harmed catastrophically, if your baby survived, you call it good. You don't know what you didn't get.
The disparities for Black mothers are stark. Is that purely about racism, or are there other factors?
It's racism, but it's also how racism intersects with sexism and how Black women's bodies are perceived in medical spaces—as less deserving of care, less credible when they report pain. That's not separate from the system; it's baked in.
What would actually change this?
You need providers who look like the patients they serve, training that names bias explicitly, and systems that empower women to speak up without fear. But mostly you need to stop treating pregnancy as a crisis to be managed and start treating it as something that deserves respect and time.
And if nothing changes?
More preventable deaths. More women avoiding care because they don't trust it. More babies born into complications that could have been caught. The math is simple.