Technology has emerged as both a champion and saboteur of reproductive rights. Where algorithms dictate everything from our playlists to our menstrual cycles, digital platforms have become lifelines for countless women navigating the labyrinth of reproductive health. Yet, these very tools carry the potential to morph into surveillance mechanisms—especially in regions where autonomy over one’s body is a battleground.
Technology has democratized access to reproductive health information. Apps like Flo and Clue have transformed smartphones into intimate companions, tracking ovulation, cycles, and fertility windows with the precision of a seasoned gynecologist. Flo boasts more than 230 million downloads globally, a staggering testament to the app’s role as a digital confidant. Meanwhile, platforms like Women First Digital, through initiatives such as “safe2choose” and “HowToUseAbortionPill,” have reached millions in over 180 countries, offering life-saving guidance on contraception and safe abortion care.
In restrictive settings where stigma and legislation erect barriers to healthcare, these tools can be revolutionary. A young woman in Texas, for instance, may find solace in online resources after local abortion bans gutted her access to clinics. Across the globe, e-health platforms are transforming whispered questions into actionable, often anonymous, answers.
But as the saying goes, every rose has its thorns—or, in this case, its terms and conditions.
The same platforms that promise empowerment also collect troves of data, and therein lies the rub. The post-Roe v. Wade landscape in the United States underscored how data—from period-tracking apps, Google searches, and even text messages—can become a prosecutor’s evidence. In 2017, the case of a woman charged with feticide in Indiana revealed how her online searches were weaponized against her. If digital footprints can lead to Spotify recommendations, they can certainly lead to subpoenas.
A report from the Washington Post found that many menstrual apps collect and share data with third-party advertisers, often with vague—or outright deceptive—privacy policies. Post-Dobbs rulings in the U.S. sparked widespread panic about how this data might be wielded in states enforcing abortion bans. Companies like Flo scrambled to roll out “anonymous mode,” but such retrofitting feels like an afterthought to a systemic issue.
It’s not just privacy that’s at stake. The efficacy of these tools has come under fire as well. Fertility apps, which often present themselves as sleek alternatives to hormonal birth control, have contributed to a rise in unintended pregnancies. Between 2018 and 2022, England and Wales saw a marked increase in abortions, partially attributed to misplaced trust in “natural family planning” methods promoted by influencers and apps. Technology, it seems, has a knack for conflating innovation with infallibility.
The ethical tightrope is thin and treacherous. On one side lies the immense promise of digital tools to bridge gaps in education and healthcare. On the other, the specter of surveillance capitalism and state overreach. The solution? It starts with regulation. Governments must mandate transparency in data collection and impose stringent penalties for misuse. Platforms must adopt privacy by design—ensuring user data is not a weapon waiting to be drawn.
But beyond legislation, there’s a deeper cultural shift needed: a recognition that technology is not neutral. It reflects the biases, ambitions, and blind spots of its creators. And when it comes to reproductive rights, neutrality isn’t an option—it’s complicity.
In the end, technology is only as empowering as the safeguards we demand of it. In the fight for reproductive autonomy, the algorithms are watching. It’s up to us to decide whether they’ll be allies or adversaries.
Written by Ananya Karthik
