The Twilight Saga is back on Netflix, and like many millennials and Gen Zers, I’ve fallen into a full-blown rewatch spiral. But this time, it hit differently.
When I watch Bella Swan wasting away, clutching her rapidly growing vampire fetus while everyone pleads with her to reconsider, I don’t just see teen drama. I see a reproductive justice horror story.
In Breaking Dawn, Bella gets pregnant with a half-vampire child that’s literally killing her. She becomes skeletal, weak, and in constant pain. Her body is breaking down from the inside out. Yet Bella refuses to end the pregnancy not because she’s being forced, but because she feels like she has to. Because it’s what a “good woman” does. Because it’s her responsibility. Even Carlisle Cullen, the most compassionate doctor in the supernatural world, admits there’s nothing he can do. Bella chooses death.
Edward—yes, Edward!—famously overprotective, begs Bella to end the pregnancy and seek help. Teenage me was stunned: Edward asking for an abortion? Now, that moment feels like a whisper of reality breaking through fantasy. Everyone sees the danger, but no one can help. No one has the tools or access. Bella accepts death because there’s no real choice.
And somewhere, someone is probably telling real people, like Rosalie tells Bella, that this is just what “strong women” do.
That’s not empowerment. That’s the illusion of choice. It mirrors what so many face in post-Roe America.
People are dying. The U.S. has the highest maternal mortality rate of any wealthy nation. In 2023, it was 18.6 deaths per 100,000 live births. Like Bella, people are told to embrace suffering as strength. But there’s nothing noble about dying from preventable pregnancy complications.
This moment in Twilight used to feel like fantasy. Now, it hits painfully close.
Since Roe’s fall, 14 U.S. states have no brick-and-mortar abortion clinics. Nearly 1 in 5 abortion patients now have to travel out of state. That’s not choice. It’s no wonder we rewatch nostalgic fantasy films we’re seeking escape. But maybe also a way to sink our teeth into some control when reality keeps taking it away.
Bella’s story is fiction, but its emotional core is real. People nationwide are forced to carry pregnancies they didn’t plan, can’t survive, or aren’t ready for. Patients are scared; doctors are afraid to intervene.
But what if we stopped glorifying suffering? What if strength isn’t pain and abandonment?
Twilight frames Bella’s self-sacrifice as noble. Her death in childbirth is her “truest” self. But at what cost? Her health fails, support fractures, she dies in agony. And we’re told this is victory?
That’s not feminism. That’s sacrifice wearing a wedding veil.
As Twilight resurges, let’s rewatch with new eyes. Bella didn’t have a choice. We should. We deserve the right to decide what happens to our bodies, to access care without barriers, shame, or fear, to live full lives, not ones defined by suffering.
So yes, stream Twilight. Meme it. Quote it. Shout “Hold on tight, spider monkey!” into the void. But this time, watch with open eyes and let’s have the real conversation about what Bella’s story reveals. Let’s fight like hell so no one in real life has to choose pain when they deserve freedom.
Bella’s world may be make-believe, but what’s happening to people today is all too real. No one should have to live out a horror story just to be seen as strong.
About the Author: Ana Karen Flores is a first-generation Latina communications strategist from Texas with a focus on storytelling, narrative change, and public engagement. She is a Public Voices fellow of The OpEd Project, the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Justice and the Every Page Foundation. You can find her on Instagram at @anaprgirl.
