Lizzie Presser

“For years, JaMarcus Crews tried to get a new kidney, but corporate healthcare stood in the way. He needed dialysis to stay alive. He couldn’t miss a session, not even during a pandemic.”

In the Mississippi Delta, one doctor was determined to make sure that no one unnecessarily lost a limb. He was up against the odds.

The judge has no legal background. The lawyer gets a cut of any collections. And the people of Coffeyville end up buried in debt or in jail or both, just for trying to go to the doctor.

A deeply upsetting object lesson in how the arcane details of inheritance and property law are used to strip black Americans of their land.

Around the country, a network of women like Mily Treviño-Sauceda and Valentina are helping Latina farm-workers escape domestic violence and abuses at work, learn their rights, and connect with social services. They believe that if immigrants can’t confront violence at home, they can never combat workplace discrimination.

A feature on a growing secret network women who — bucking the law and the medical establishment — are getting trained to offer abortions, safely and inexpensively, in the privacy of women’s homes.

After their mother was arrested and deported to Nogales, Mexico, the Marin children became wards of the state, forced to split up and live in separate homes in an overwhelmed and underfunded foster care system. Their story is just one example of the roughly half a million U.S.-born children who’ve lost a parent to arrest, detention, and deportation between 2009 and 2013.

Lizzie Presser reports on the Dickensian treatment of Filipino workers aboard Carnival Cruise Line ships — where the routine involves 12 and 14-hour days, seven-days a week for paltry pay and zero overtime — just to be able to provide better lives for families they rarely get to see.