On September 25, 2025, as Argentine actress Camila Plaate took the stage after receiving the award for Best Supporting Actress for Belén at the 73rd San Sebastián International Film Festival, she asked, “Who is Belén? I am Belén.”
Belén, the Argentine film directed by Dolores Fonzi, focuses on the true case of a young woman from Tucumán who was imprisoned in 2014 after suffering a miscarriage in a hospital bathroom. She spent 29 months in prison, accused of aggravated homicide.
This was not an isolated case. A report by the Center for Legal and Social Studies (CELS) found that between 2014 and 2020, a total of 1,532 women were prosecuted for abortion in Argentina; one-third of the cases involved obstetric emergencies. In many instances, the hospitals themselves reported the women.
In her acceptance speech, Plaate dedicated the award to the Argentine women’s movement—and to women all around the world. “This film brings us memory, truth, and justice… and we will do it again as many times as necessary,” she declared.
The release of the film and its subsequent recognition within the film industry come at a moment when the obstetric, judicial, police, and institutional violence Belén endured in 2014 is returning to public debate, once again threatening the thousands of women who rely on the public health system. In a country like Argentina, where access to abortion has been legal, safe, and free since December 2020, a battle once thought settled is now being fought again.
An Embattled Victory
On December 30, 2020, Argentina’s Senate passed Law 27,610, also known as the Voluntary Termination of Pregnancy Law (Interrupción Voluntaria del Embarazo, IVE). The Green Tide—as the reproductive rights movement has come to be known—flooded the streets after a hard-earned victory that consolidated decades of feminist struggle. Argentina became the fifth country in Latin America—after Cuba, Uruguay, Guyana, and some Mexican states—to fully decriminalize abortion up to the 14th week of pregnancy. It was a historic moment.
Until then, abortion had been permitted only in cases of rape or when the pregnancy posed a risk to the woman’s health. These were known as “non-punishable” or “therapeutic” abortions.
In a country like Argentina, where access to abortion has been legal, safe, and free since December 2020, a battle once thought settled is now being fought again.
Nevertheless, under those limited exceptions, many women—especially the young and poor—still had no access to abortions. Carlota Ramírez, a psychologist specializing in gender and public policy, notes that before the IVE law, the procedure could cost nearly $1,000 in a private clinic—a profitable market that legalization dismantled while democratizing access.
For Jea Cisneros, a feminist activist and member of the Socialist Workers’ Movement (Movimiento Socialista de los Trabajadores, MST), the fact that it became law does not mean there is consensus. Pointing to the offensive waged against the law by Milei and evangelical churches, she said that “it is one of the issues that most clearly reflects today’s social polarization” and thus “remains a contested right.”
Roxana Szyszko, a social worker in the Narciso López General Acute Care Hospital in Lanús, agreed. “We are living through tense times, with constant hate speech,” she said. ”There is no national project that includes everyone.”
In the five years since the law came into effect, more than 314,000 women have been able to access safe and free abortions through Argentina’s public health system. The country’s far-right President Javier Milei and his allies, however, are seeking to overturn this hard-fought victory.
An Anti-Rights Government
In May 2025, during the closing session of the AmCham business summit, Milei blamed the country’s declining birth rate on abortion.
“We could have avoided quite a few murders in the wombs of mothers,” he exclaimed. “Now they’re realizing they went too far in attacking the family, in attacking both lives—and now we’re paying for it with falling birth rates.”
Milei’s speech, a full-blown crusade against what he calls “woke culture,” asserted a direct causal link between reproductive rights and declining birth rates. Yet Argentina’s fertility rate has been falling since 2014, part of a broader global trend driven by multiple factors. While access to sexual and reproductive health policies plays a role, researchers point to women’s increased participation in the labor market and higher levels of education as equally—if not more—significant drivers.
There are other ways to undermine a right. A law without funding exists only on paper—it is a dead letter.
Milei has long floated the idea of holding a plebiscite on the abortion law as part of his promises to defend “the right to life from conception,” though it has not yet happened. Nevertheless, in February 2024, a group of lawmakers from Milei’s party, La Libertad Avanza, introduced a bill to repeal the law and re-criminalize abortion. Under the premise that the IVE law is “unconstitutional,” the bill proposed prison sentences of one to three years for women who induced their own abortions or consented to someone helping them abort. It also included exceptions at the discretion of a judge, who would evaluate the motives behind the crime and the woman’s conduct and character.
The initiative failed to advance due to a lack of support in Congress. Although Milei and his allies have not formally reintroduced similar legislation, that does not mean the debate is closed. Days after La Libertad Avanza’s victory in the 2025 midterm elections, Agustín Laje, head of Fundación Faro—the conservative think tank leading the government’s “cultural battle”—suggested the issue should be reopened for debate and said he “hopes” the law is eventually repealed.
But there are other ways to undermine a right. A law without funding exists only on paper—it is a dead letter.
Following this idea, the government’s strategy has been to slash national funding for sexual and reproductive health, leaving provincial governments to figure out whether and how to guarantee access to this right.
According to Amnesty International, reports of barriers to abortion access rose by 275 percent in 2024 compared to the previous year, a trend that has continued. Key obstacles include a lack of medical supplies, counseling designed to misinform women, unjustified delays in care, and mistreatment by health personnel.
Data from the Ministry of Health shows that the federal government neither purchased nor distributed abortion supplies to the country’s provinces in 2024. Fourteen provinces reported shortages of medication used in abortion procedures. There has also been a drastic reduction in the provision of short and long-acting contraceptive methods, emergency hormonal contraception, condoms, and pregnancy tests—which should have been publicly available by law. The National Plan for the Prevention of Unintended Adolescent Pregnancy (PLAN ENIA), which reduced adolescent fertility by 49 percent between 2018 and 2022, was completely dismantled.
Religion in the Political Arena
For some healthcare professionals, the arrival of La Libertad Avanza to power, along with its rhetoric against “gender ideology” and so-called “woke” policies, has allowed “pro-life” groups to act more openly.
Many of these actors, often linked to evangelical organizations, operate both outside and inside hospitals, offering counseling or other interventions aimed at influencing patients before they access abortion services, often by spreading misinformation. Until October 2024, the San Isidro Maternal Hospital in Buenos Aires hosted a “Vulnerable Maternity Clinic,” an unofficial support space run by individuals external to the hospital that patients were required to pass through before accessing abortion care.
The news outlet El Destape reported that these counseling sessions were initially run by volunteers from a religious NGO Alégrate Madre (Mother, Be Happy).
Amnesty International Argentina received numerous complaints from patients at the San Isidro hospital who said they were given false information about abortion, referred to psychological services, or subjected to coercive practices intended to make them change their minds. Some were told that “pregnancy is a gift from God” or that “many women who have abortions end up committing suicide.”
The office was ultimately shut down following complaints and pressure from local residents and feminist groups.
Another “pro-life” organization, Amor y Vida, gained visibility last year when it began operating a booth at Community Health Center (CESAC) No. 26 in the Buenos Aires neighborhood of Palermo, deliberately coordinating its hours with those when patients seeking abortion care arrive.
“If you are experiencing a vulnerable pregnancy or know a woman who needs support, please contact us,” reads a pamphlet from the organization titled “Proyecto Nacer” (Project Birth).
Amor y Vida is led by gynecologist and pastor Jael Ojuel, who describes herself as a “defender of life.” She is also a representative of the Christian Alliance of Evangelical Churches of the Argentine Republic (ACIERA). In that capacity, she has met with previous governments to present the group’s positions against “gender ideology.”
According to Cisneros, faith functions as a powerful tool of control, as its mass appeal allows religious groups to reach broad segments of society.
There is no automatic alignment between faith groups and the political right in Argentina. Groups such as Catholics for the Right to Decide (CDD) and Priests in the Preferential Option for the Poor (OPP) have long defended women’s bodily autonomy against conservative political agendas. Nevertheless, Milei has played a decisive role in consolidating the association between religious sectors—mostly evangelicals— and the Right, including by granting legal status to non-Catholic religious organizations through Decree 486/2025.
Budget Cuts and Silent Withdrawal
Carlota Ramírez stresses that abortion remains legal in Argentina and that people continue to demand—and largely access—this right. The problem, she warns, lies in the deep inequities between provinces.
“The law is still being implemented. Provinces are purchasing the supplies the federal government fails to provide, and there is an informal national network where information and resources are shared,” she explained.
Still, the political climate matters. “When a government or president describes abortion as aggravated homicide, people who might not have spoken out before now feel entitled to do so. But 60 percent of the population supports abortion.”
Ramírez does not speak of open conflict but of risk. Argentina is part of a regional and global context marked by setbacks in human rights, with Milei as one of its clearest expressions. In this framework, the fight against so-called “gender ideology” has become a political strategy used by right-wing actors and religious groups to build alliances, strengthen their base, and roll back gains in equality and human rights. As neofascism advances, women’s bodies and autonomy are once again up for debate.
Without political will at the provincial level, abortion access is at risk. But the networks are there—and they are strong. One way or another, abortion will continue to happen, as it always has.
“I believe this is more a political debate than a moral one,” Ramírez adds. “The fight against abortion is part of a global right-wing project tied to extreme concentrations of wealth and power. Feminisms and transfeminisms pose the strongest challenge to capitalist, patriarchal, and colonial logic because they question how society itself is organized.”
The possibility of rollback exists, as with any public policy that depends on material resources. Patriarchy, as a pillar of capitalism, relies on the sexual division of labor and on women as incubators. Without political will at the provincial level, abortion access is at risk. But the networks are there—and they are strong. One way or another, abortion will continue to happen, as it always has.
“In the political context we are living in, organization is essential,” she says. “Staying alert and remaining in the streets is the only way to prevent rollback. It’s also crucial to build networks within social organizations, unions, and local communities. Sometimes women say, ‘I’m not a feminist,’ but they do enormous grassroots work—organizing neighborhoods, facilitating access, and coordinating with primary healthcare providers.”
The danger today is not a sudden blow, but a silent killing—one that may unfold as Milei’s administration continues to announce budget cuts. In this slow withdrawal, enacted through defunding, dismantling, and abandonment, bodies are left exposed. Women, children, sexually dissident communities, and other historically marginalized groups become the first casualties of a model that does not need to repeal rights to erase them; it only has to stop guaranteeing them.
Daniella “Ella” Fernández (La Habana, Cuba, 1995) is a journalist, photographer, and filmmaker based in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Her work explores feminism, migration, environment, and social movements across Latin America and the Caribbean.