The quiet town of Pittsburg, Kansas, home to 20,000 residents, has unexpectedly found itself at the center of a national controversy surrounding reproductive rights. This southeastern Kansas town, located near the borders of Missouri, Oklahoma, and Arkansas, became a focal point when a new abortion clinic opened in August 2023, drawing attention from both supporters and protesters.

Rev. Anthony Navaratnam, a local pastor at Flag Church, stood before his congregation, calling for prayer for the women from nearby states who would soon be coming to the clinic. “God is giving us an opportunity to be missionaries in Pittsburg, Kansas,” Navaratnam said, as the church held a training on how to protest outside the clinic.

Pittsburg’s new Planned Parenthood clinic is situated in a region where abortion access is heavily restricted or outright banned in neighboring states, making Kansas a critical destination for those seeking care. Kansas is now one of the few states in the region still allowing abortions, making it a beacon for women unable to receive care at home.

Kansas saw a significant spike in abortion services after the overturning of Roe v. Wade in 2022. According to the Guttmacher Institute, abortions in the state increased by 152% following the ruling. The state has since become one of five primary destinations, along with Illinois, New Mexico, North Carolina, and Virginia, where women from other states travel for reproductive care. This surge in demand has led to the opening of clinics in smaller communities like Pittsburg, where previously, clinics would have been unlikely in such conservative areas.

“Kansas is really the only one in this region that can provide care to many people in these surrounding states,” said Kensey Wright, a board member of the Roe Fund, an Oklahoma organization supporting abortion access in Kansas. Without Kansas clinics, Wright added, “we would be without hope."

Pittsburg’s new clinic, housed in a former urology office, sits near residential areas and a Catholic-run medical facility, reflecting the community’s deep religious roots. Established in 1876, the town was initially settled by immigrants from predominantly Catholic countries who came to work in the surrounding coal mines. The small-town atmosphere means that relationships are close-knit, and personal connections run deep, which complicates the debate over such a contentious issue.

“In a small town, it’s not just that you’ll know that person. Your family will know them. You will have known them for 40 years,” said Dr. Emily Walters, a local supporter of the clinic who works as an anesthesiologist in nearby Missouri. Walters voiced concern about maintaining civility amid the emotional and often polarizing debate. “How do I see you at a protest and then see you the next day at the grocery store and still be able to be polite and civil with each other?”

The demand for abortion services in Pittsburg has been driven by patients from neighboring states like Texas, Missouri, and Oklahoma, which have implemented restrictive abortion laws. Emily Wales, president and CEO of Planned Parenthood Great Plains, said the Pittsburg clinic is strategically located to serve people from these states. She noted that 60% to 65% of individuals seeking appointments at Kansas clinics are from out of state, primarily Texas, Missouri, and Oklahoma.

With limited abortion services available, many patients have to be turned away due to a lack of capacity, Wales said. The Pittsburg clinic aims to help alleviate this issue, though for now, it will focus solely on abortion services. Future plans include adding more services, such as gender-affirming care, which has also faced restrictions in neighboring states.

As the clinic began operations, protests mounted. Vie Medical Clinic, a local crisis pregnancy center, saw an increase in donations, and protesters began distributing pamphlets to women arriving at the clinic. Megan Newman, executive director of Vie, said the community felt a palpable shift when news spread of Planned Parenthood’s arrival. “When we got word that Planned Parenthood was coming, you could just kind of feel that in the town,” she said.

Among the protesters is Jeanne Napier, a 68-year-old Baptist who has pledged to demonstrate outside the clinic daily. For her, opposition to the clinic is personal. Napier’s daughter, Terri, recounted her own experience with abortion during an abusive relationship two decades ago. While she later struggled with addiction and regret, she now feels conflicted. “I was at war with forgiving myself,” Terri said, while Jeanne laments her role in supporting her daughter’s decision. “I had an active play in terminating a life, and we don’t have that right,” Jeanne said.

Kansas, long a conservative stronghold, surprised many when voters in 2022 rejected an amendment that would have stripped abortion rights from the state constitution. In Crawford County, where Pittsburg is located, 55% of voters opposed the amendment, aligning with 59% of voters statewide. This outcome, reflective of national polling by the Associated Press-NORC Center showing that 6 in 10 Americans support legal abortion in most cases, underscores the complexity of the issue even in rural, conservative communities.

As Pittsburg and its residents navigate their newfound place in the national abortion debate, the divide remains deep. While the clinic seeks to provide essential services, protesters are ready for a long fight. For residents like Dr. Walters, who supports the clinic but is mindful of the community’s divisions, the arrival of the clinic is bittersweet. “It is critical health care for women,” she said, “but it is going to be disruptive to Pittsburg. And that part hurts my heart.”

As the clinic staff settles into their new roles and opposition continues to grow, the town of Pittsburg stands as a microcosm of the broader national struggle over reproductive rights, grappling with the intersection of personal beliefs, political tensions, and public health.