As the landscape of abortion access in the United States continues to shift dramatically, Virginia has found itself at the epicenter of a growing crisis—and a fierce national debate. Since the U.S. Supreme Court overturned federal abortion protections three summers ago, states across the South have rapidly enacted restrictions or near-total bans on abortion procedures. In this climate, Virginia, which allows most abortions up to 26 weeks, now stands as the least-restrictive southern state. The result? An unprecedented surge in calls for help from both Virginians and out-of-state residents desperate for access and support.
According to reporting by Virginia Mercury, abortion funds based in Virginia are facing a deluge of requests for assistance. These organizations, including the Blue Ridge Abortion Fund (BRAF), Richmond Reproductive Freedom Project (RRFP), and Hampton Roads Reproductive Justice League (HRRJL), have become lifelines for people who cannot afford the rising costs of abortion care and related travel expenses. Over the past year, BRAF alone supported over 2,300 callers, a staggering 54% increase in funding provided compared to previous years. The demographic is changing too: before 2023, only about 15% of BRAF’s clients came from out of state, but by 2025, that number has jumped to 25%.
“We’re seeing a ripple effect,” said April Greene, executive director of BRAF, in a recent call with Virginia Mercury. Greene explained that the overturn of Roe v. Wade has not just affected those in states with outright bans like Florida and Georgia—where abortion is prohibited after six weeks—but also Virginians themselves. Inflation and stagnant wages mean that even locals are increasingly dependent on these funds. “People in Virginia need more support than before because the cost of living (which affects the cost of food, hotels, rideshare rides, gas, etc. around appointment dates) has increased without their wages increasing,” an RRFP spokesperson told the Mercury. “Even a meal after an abortion is much more expensive now than it was five years ago, and that has nothing to do with overturning Roe.”
The need is so great that some organizations are struggling to keep up. The HRRJL, for instance, usually receives between 50 and 70 calls each week but has the resources to fund only three to five pledges in that same period. “Being located in Hampton Roads we have always had callers from North Carolina, and callers from our neighboring state seem to be increasing too,” said Sara Blachman, a volunteer with HRRJL, via email. Meanwhile, the New River Abortion Access Fund has had to suspend its hotline temporarily, a stark indication of the strain on resources.
It’s not just the numbers that have changed, but the nature of support. Greene from BRAF emphasized that abortion funds do more than simply hand out money. They assist with booking hotel rooms, arranging flights, and even offering moral support for patients who may be traveling alone or flying for the first time. “We’re sort of walking alongside people so much longer than people would think,” Greene said. “It’s not just ‘here’s 500 dollars for your abortion.’ It’s so much more than that.”
Out-of-state patients, particularly from Georgia, Florida, and North Carolina, are adding to the pressure. Their need for assistance often means resources are stretched thin for Virginians as well. To cope, abortion funds across state lines are in regular communication, sharing strategies and occasionally pooling resources to ensure patients can reach the care they need.
One relatively new player in this landscape is State Line Abortion Access Partners (SLAAP), based in Bristol, Virginia. Their “Last Mile Fund” aims to bridge the gap for those who have already secured money for abortion care but still need help getting to a clinic. SLAAP coordinates with other funds to reimburse volunteer drivers for gas, ensuring transportation is not the final barrier to access.
But as demand rises, so does the challenge of keeping up with fundraising. Greene noted that BRAF saw a surge in donations immediately after Roe’s overturn, as the issue was top-of-mind for many philanthropic individuals. Since then, however, donations have tapered off, forcing funds like BRAF to rethink their strategies and, in some cases, reduce their budgets. “We were incredibly lucky over the past few years to get some infrastructure,” Greene explained, referring to support from the National Network of Abortion Funds and other organizations. Still, she acknowledged, “I think everyone’s a little tentative, a little bit unsure about what’s happening in the philanthropic landscape.”
Federal funding uncertainties add another layer of complexity. Three Virginia-based Planned Parenthood clinics are currently awaiting federal funding tied to family planning and cancer screening services for low-income people, following a federal funding freeze announced in spring 2025. While this funding is not directly related to abortion services, the fact that Planned Parenthood provides abortions has drawn criticism from opponents and left clinics in a precarious position. Legal battles over other streams of federal funding continue to play out, leaving organizations on edge.
Meanwhile, the national debate over abortion access has only intensified. According to WORLD Radio, attorneys general in two states—including California’s Rob Bonta and New York’s Letitia James—have filed lawsuits to stop pregnancy centers from promoting so-called abortion pill reversal treatments. These legal efforts argue that such treatments lack scientific support and could be misleading or even harmful. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) and the American Medical Association (AMA) both maintain that abortion pill reversal is not backed by sufficient evidence, though supporters point to case studies and anecdotal accounts.
The legal and political battles show no sign of abating. As states like Virginia become critical access points for abortion care in the South, the pressure on local organizations will likely persist, if not intensify. For patients, the journey to an abortion clinic now often spans hundreds of miles, multiple states, and a gauntlet of logistical and financial hurdles. For the funds and volunteers supporting them, the work has never been more urgent—or more uncertain.
While the headlines may focus on court cases and legislative battles, the real story plays out every day on intake lines, in volunteer-driven carpools, and in the quiet moments when someone on the other end of the phone offers not just money, but reassurance and hope. As the country continues to wrestle with the future of reproductive rights, Virginia’s experience stands as both a warning and a testament to the resilience of those determined to help, no matter the odds.
