In the United States—the wealthiest nation in the world—pregnancy remains far more dangerous than it should be. Each year, hundreds of women die from pregnancy-related causes, and thousands more experience life-threatening complications. But the crisis is not evenly distributed. Black women are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than their white counterparts, regardless of income or education. According to the CDC, over 80% of these deaths are preventable—a statistic that is as staggering as it is indicting.
For Charles Johnson, the founder of 4Kira4Moms, these numbers are not abstract; they are personal.
In April 2016, Johnson walked into Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles with his wife, Kira, expecting to welcome their second son into the world. Kira was healthy, vibrant, and full of life—a woman Johnson describes as “sunshine personified.” She spoke five languages, chased adrenaline through skydiving and racing cars, and approached life with fearless curiosity. Together, they had built a life rooted in love, partnership, and possibility.
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But what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of their lives became a devastating turning point. After delivering a healthy baby boy, Kira began to bleed internally. Despite Johnson and his family repeatedly advocating for help, she was left untreated for hours. By the time doctors intervened, it was too late.
Kira died from complications that experts later determined were preventable.
In the days that followed, Johnson began to uncover a reality that many families across the country already knew too well: Kira’s story was not an anomaly—it was part of a larger, systemic failure in maternal healthcare, one that disproportionately endangers Black women.
What began as grief has since transformed into a national movement. Through 4Kira4Moms, Johnson has become one of the leading voices calling for accountability, equity, and reform in maternal health. His work is rooted not only in loss, but in love—in the life Kira lived, the family they built, and the future he is fighting to protect.
In this conversation with WayMaker, Johnson reflects on Kira’s spirit, the structural failures of the healthcare system, and why fathers must be included in the fight to save Black mothers.
This conversation was edited for length and clarity.
WayMaker Journal: Take us back to Kira, not the headline or the symbolism behind the name because you started this meaningful organization for her. But who she was and how her story continues to guide 4Kira4Moms.
Charles Johnson: When we talk about Kira, the best way I describe her is that she was sunshine personified. She lit up every room she walked into. She had this incredibly infectious energy and smile.
She lived life fully—YOLO before YOLO. She loved adventure and new experiences. She traveled the world, spoke five languages fluently, raced cars, and skydived. We used to joke that she had Jason Bourne skills. Like, how does a Black girl from Decatur, Georgia have these interests?
She was just amazing. Way out of my league, honestly. But we built a beautiful life together. When we welcomed our first son in 2014, it was such an exciting time. And when we were expecting our second, Langston, we were on top of the world.
WMJ: How does her spirit show up in the work you do today?
CJ: Kira’s energy keeps us grounded. Not just in the work, but in how I parent and approach life.
We try to do everything “Kira style”—with energy, with love, with the belief that nothing is too broken to fix through collaboration and creativity. She always found a way to make lemonade out of lemons.
That optimism—some might call it delusional—is our superpower. We truly believe maternal health issues can be fixed in our lifetime.
And honestly, we’re still in partnership. Every decision I make, I think: How would Kira approach this? Are we building something worthy of her name?
WMJ: Can you walk us through the day everything changed?
CJ: We were excited to welcome Langston in April 2016. We prepared, planned, even relocated to Los Angeles and chose Cedars-Sinai, which was supposed to be the best place to give birth. On April 12, we walked in expecting the happiest day of our lives. Instead, it became a nightmare.
Throughout Kira’s pregnancy, she was incredibly healthy. We went in for what was supposed to be a routine cesarean delivery at our doctor’s recommendation. Langston was born healthy [with] no signs of distress. Everything was perfect. But shortly after in recovery, I noticed blood in Kira’s catheter. I alerted the staff around 4 p.m.
For over 10 hours, Kira was allowed to bleed internally while my family and I begged for help. Hour after hour, there was dismissal or delay. At one point, I was told, ‘Your wife just isn’t a priority right now.’
After midnight, they finally took her into surgery. She had three liters of blood in her abdomen. Her heart stopped immediately. They worked on her for some time, but they were unable to save her.
I’m always transparent about the fact that when I walked into the hospital that day, I never imagined Kira wouldn’t walk out of that hospital to raise our sons.
What began to happen is over that series of days and weeks, as I was trying to put things back together, I began to hear these other stories of other mothers that had had horrific birthing experiences, other mothers that had experienced obstetric violence, other mothers that had made that ultimate sacrifice, just trying to give the gift of life.
We cannot have a conversation about the maternal mortality crisis in this country without head-on addressing the manner in which it is disproportionately affecting Black women and women of color.
So we founded 4Kira4Moms, not only to honor my late wife, but for a very distinct goal to eradicate the maternal mortality crisis, full stop.
84% of maternal deaths are preventable
WMJ: We hear the statistics often, but what are the human realities behind those numbers?
CJ: The data tells the story, and it should make you angry. The data should make you wake up. The data should make you eager for answers, but the data only tells one part of the story. But here’s the reality, the human reality of this, there’s no statistic that captures what it’s like to tell an 18-month-old his mother isn’t coming home. No algorithm that explains telling a child who never knew his mom how amazing she was.
One stat that drives us as an organization is that 84% of maternal deaths are preventable. That means four out of five mothers should still be here on the first day of kindergarten, dancing at weddings, and screaming on Saturday mornings at soccer games.
We shifted the conversation from the data to human experiences, and how these mothers were, the impact that they have on their community, and the void that’s being left. When people who sit in governments, who are shaping policy, see themselves or their loved ones in these stories, that’s when change happens.
WMJ: What’s the biggest gap right now between policy, hospital systems, and accountability?
CJ: The American healthcare system prioritizes profits over patients, fundamentally. That’s not to say that all healthcare systems are innately sinister. There are perverse incentives working against healthy outcomes. More interventions mean more billing. C-sections cost more and take less time. That shapes decision-making.
This is a complex issue, and it’s going to take a complex set of solutions. When coupled with bias, it creates a detrimental environment, particularly for women of color.
We also have maternal healthcare deserts. In some places, there’s no OB care at all. Women are driving for hours to access basic services. This is a complex issue with compounding factors—but the system isn’t built around outcomes, it’s built around revenue.
WMJ What’s a win you’re proud of, and where is progress still slow?:
CJ: I’m so proud of the work that we’ve been able to do. There are a lot of organizations and people fighting and have been fighting even before I knew that this was a problem. One major win: expanding postpartum Medicaid coverage from six weeks to one year in most states. That’s huge.
We’ve also seen:
- Doula care being offered by corporations such as Walmart
- Increased awareness and questioning of care standards
- The Preventing Maternal Deaths Act
- Having maternal mortality review committees in all 50 states
- Bias training requirements in ~10 states
I think there are still a lot of gaps in provider accountability, access to care, and addressing maternal healthcare deserts.
WMJ: What does true accountability look like when a preventable death happens?
CJ: There has to be an intentional approach taken by everybody involved in the care of that mother to do everything possible to make sure that what happened doesn’t happen again. Far too often, and I understand that our society is litigious. Things are swept under the rug, and things are done to minimize liability rather than reduce preventable harm.
There has to be accountability from a licensure standpoint. If there’s negligence, providers shouldn’t continue practicing. If systems failed, the people in charge need to be held accountable, and those systems need to be reworked. We have to have a real conversation about is the role that [implicit] bias plays in this. Because a lot of hospitals and medical institutions, just like Cedar Sinai, have accountability mechanisms in place.
But when bias shows up, if the doctors are allowed to make the decisions about whether they utilize those tools in an arbitrary fashion, what happens is if a Black mother comes in and a [healthcare professional] doesn’t see her the same way you see [nonBlack] women? we have to confront bias directly because it often shows up as delay and dismissal.
WMJ: How can we demand better care and rebuild trust?
CJ: From the onset, understanding how to select providers if you have a choice of providers. I advise families when they go in to meet with their OBGYN or any medical setting, but particularly Black families, to ask:
Are you aware of the maternal mortality crisis and its impact on Black women? What are you and your practice doing to ensure I thrive before, during, and after pregnancy?
Then listen. Their answer is going to tell you so much. If they acknowledge the crisis and explain their approach that’s good. However, if they dismiss it as ‘we treat all our patients the same…” and try to minimize the problem or your concerns — that’s a red flag. You should get out of there and find another provider as quickly as you can because if this conversation offends you, then this conversation is for you.
Also:
- Be informed and empowered about your options
- Know the language and what questions to ask.
- Build a support team that understands your expectations
- Have someone who can advocate for you when you cannot
Because it’s unreasonable to expect a woman to advocate for herself while giving birth. It’s an unreasonable expectation, and anybody who sets forth that expectation has not been through that experience. We have to be very intentional about helping all mothers understand how to build that team, that support system, whether it is your partner, the father, a best friend, an auntie, uncle, somebody that understands your expectations, understands your birth plan, understands your preferences, understands your health history, and is able to advocate for you and support you through that process.
Understanding what questions to ask, what language to use if you feel that you haven’t been heard, how to escalate your concerns, how to demand a second opinion, and how to demand that a note be made in your chart. And so we want to make sure that families have all the tools they need to navigate these situations to the best of their ability.
WMJ: Why are fathers often left out of this conversation?
CJ: It’s just been a cultural norm that fathers are taken out of the picture and treated by bystanders or visitors. Even if you look at old television shows, dads are in the waiting room to find out if the baby is a boy or a girl. And then he smokes a cigarette, and he high-fives his friends.
But dads are critical to outcomes. When fathers are engaged and part of the care team, it significantly reduces many of these risk factors. When dad is present, the instances of preterm labor drop tremendously; the length of NICU stays decreases; the ability to breastfeed effectively increases; and postpartum depression decreases.
WMJ: What gives you hope when you think about the future of maternal health?
CJ: I’m very much a futurist. I think about a country where every single family receives the safe, beautiful, dignified birthing experience— regardless of zip code, race, income, or sexual orientation. I see a future, and we have a goal of zero preventable deaths from pregnancy and related causes by the year 2030. It’s ambitious—but why shouldn’t it be?. But if we really believe that’s what mothers and babies deserve in this country, then we need to strive for something that bold and audacious.
Not only that, we know what works. We can point to other countries that are getting it right. It’s about our willingness to apply pressure to ensure that these things are prioritized. I do this work to put myself out of business. That’s my goal. I want there to no longer be a need for an organization that fights to save moms and babies because all of them are being saved.
WMJ: Has today’s political climate made the work harder?
CJ: I tell my boys, ‘We don’t just take on fights we know we can win. That’s called being a bully.” If it’s not challenging, it’s not worth taking on. The political climate presents challenges, but it also creates opportunities. It’s up to us to help people see the opportunity in the crisis.
We present this opportunity to support mothers and babies as a uniquely bipartisan opportunity in the midst of a very divisive time. I approach it as issue-focused, not party-focused. If we want to make America great, protecting mothers is a great place to start
WMJ: What’s one action people can take today?
CJ: Take 20 seconds and go to 4kira4moms.com or the Black Maternal Health Caucus and sign the petition that will demand that both of your congressional representatives and your senators support the MOMNIBUS BILLS + DAD’S MATTER ACT. That’s first. Secondarily, have the conversation. Help us raise awareness and then direct people to resources and organizations and amplify the work. Lastly, you can follow us on social media. We have a platform called The Village. So we will give you turnkey solutions on how you can support, how you can message, how you can share with people in your community, and how you can take action steps. If you want to volunteer, we’ll take you. If you want to just repost, re-share, or re-like, but we need people to carry the water on this.
There’s only two types of people in this country. Either you are a mama or you got one.
WMJ: If Kira could see what you’ve built, what would she say?
CJ:Kira had a simple phrase when she was proud. She’d just say:
“Go, baby, go.”
For those moved to action, 4Kira4Moms is turning awareness into community this Black Maternal Health Week. On April 11, the organization will host its annual block party in Atlanta with a day centered on Black birth, joy, and access. Held at the MLK Recreation Center from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., the free event will bring together families, doulas, healthcare providers, and community organizations for live entertainment, health screenings, and resources that meet people where they are. It’s both a celebration and a call to action because changing outcomes doesn’t just happen in hospitals or policy rooms, it happens in community.
To learn more or get involved, visit 4Kira4Moms.com.
