A Heaven for Adriana Smith

It’s been almost fifteen years since I made a shift in my theology concerning Hell. After a deep reckoning with the scriptures and what I believed to be God’s heart for Creation, I understood Hell wasn’t a location where sinful, unrepentant people are banished forever. The notion of Hell as a destination for the lost left me entirely. Instead, I began to appreciate the full redemption of Creation—an oasis we had yet to comprehend. Where we know ourselves and each other in the totality of what God intended. From that came a deeper gratitude for who God is and a richer appreciation for Creation and all it will be when this life is over.

Wholly optimistic, mildly arrogant and slightly naïve, I shared my perspective with others I loved. Some were open; they engaged in deep theological discussion that, both, sharpened my position and exposed its weaknesses. Others listened but were not at all persuaded. My grandmother and her friends among them. They listened and, as only Black Southern women can, laughed when I was done. It was the kind of laugh you hated back then but have not-so-secretly been looking forward to offering as you age. Grandma, who I have always considered the first theologian I knew, offered a serious rebuttal—much of which I’m embarrassed to say I can’t remember. But I do remember the most important part: Hell is real because white people need somewhere to go.

Her friends laughed and vigorously agreed. I found it funny myself. Admittedly, I had not even thought about white people as I interrogated my eschatological beliefs. Quite frankly, we have to deal with white folks so much here, it exhausts me to think we’ll have to deal with them in Glory, too. So I didn’t. I didn’t think about it—and I still don’t. In my mind, Heaven is big and wide enough for all of us to be where we want to be. And I want to be on the side with seasoned food, random kickbacks and line dances galore down those gold paved streets.

I knew why Grandma said Hell belonged to them. I was fully aware of what would make a Black woman, born in the mid 1930s, resistant to the notion of white people in Heaven. Surely, they’d not earned the privilege and to find them there would be inconsistent with everything the Bible taught on the matter. Yet, even if I had not made room for white people in my afterlife, I reconciled that what was true of God for me holds true for everybody else. We would all be redeemed and, for that, white folks should praise God evermore.

For almost fifteen years, I have held the position that Creation will be redeemed back to God in a glorious display of God’s deep, wide, transformative and unexplainable love. That was until the story of Adriana Smith came across my timeline.

Passing in 2019 and taking effect in 2022, House Bill 481 became Georgia rule. The “heartbeat law” made abortions illegal as soon as fetal heartbeat can be detected, normally within the sixth week of pregnancy. Exceptions are made in cases of rape, incest or “medical emergency”.

In February 2025, a pregnant Adriana Smith sought treatment at Atlanta’s Northside Hospital for headaches. Smith, who was also a nurse, was prescribed medication and released. The next morning, Adriana was rushed to Emory Hospital where doctors found blood clots on her brain. Adriana was later declared brain dead. At the time of her death, Adriana was nine weeks pregnant. Because a fetal heartbeat had been detected, in accordance with state law, doctors made the decision to keep Adriana on life support until they could “safely” deliver her baby. Four months later, doctors removed Adriana’s son from her body, weighing in at just over one pound, and her from life support.

Black women are three times more likely to experience a pregnancy related death than mothers of any other ethnic group. One could ask why Adriana’s concerns were not taken more seriously at Northside Hospital, especially given her occupation, but we know why. We know that bias within the healthcare system perpetuates the lie that Black women are incapable of experiencing pain. And we know there remains an unnecessary stigma around being an unwed mother, no matter your socioeconomic or relationship statuses. All of these things and more converged, refusing to give Adriana a fighting chance. And when her family came up against Georgia’s law, they were left powerless.

When Adriana’s family announced that her son had been born, my body immediately tensed. Georgia had no more use for her. The incubator her body had been would now be replaced with another one. Her family would now be allowed to lay her to rest…and later prepare to receive a medical bill for the 128 days she was on life support against their wishes. (The family has set up a GoFundMe to offset costs.)

The pro-life/anti-abortion movement has never been about preserving the sanctity of human life. It has always been about seeing child rearing as the righteous consequence for sex outside of marriage. One of my favorite divinity school professors, Amy Laura Hall, gets to this quickly in her piece Pregnancy as Punishment, or When the Pro-Life Movement is Evil. It’s important to note that this consequence is solely reserved for poor and working class people, as middle and upper class folks have long found ways to not face their “consequences”—and will keep doing so no matter how many states craft abortion bans.

And this evil becomes especially heinous towards Black women. Seen as wanton and lustful, they do not “deserve” abortions. If Black women are pregnant, especially while unmarried, then they deserve whatever fate befalls them. Even if it includes being forced to remain on life support for four months. I wish I could tell my grandma that I get it now. They’ve got to go somewhere and, honestly, Hell feels too nice.

I believe Adriana was welcomed onto the other side by all those who have gone before her. That’s what I’ve been taught and, no matter how much my theology evolves, that’s where I will always find an anchor. And yet, I grieved her ancestors’ pain because I know they must have felt a way. I mourned how limitless their power was in the face of that evil.

Do not our ancestors get to fully rest in peace? Have they not earned the right to watch over and protect us from the very evils that sought to destroy them? Does not God owe Black women more provision and protection than this? When do we get a reprieve and why does it have to come when we are dead—especially if what we have to look forward to is watching our loved ones continually suffer from the other side?

I hope that, after they gave God a piece of their mind, Adriana’s ancestors were able to muster up enough strength to prepare for her arrival. I pray that her corner of Heaven is filled with all the things she loves and is abundant space for her to watch over her children until she’s reunited with them. I pray God endows her with a double portion to protect those who will be caring for her sons, giving them grace to anticipate and understand just how hard this life has become. More than anything, I pray she and her lineage are offered the divine apologies they are due. Because we can love God and still hold to the truth that she deserved so much more.

And holding that truth, I will sit with my anger. Until it makes its way through my body. Until I remember that Heaven belongs to us. Until I remember that there is no pain or disappointment there. Because there has to be a place that white supremacy cannot touch. I know that there is somewhere evil does not have the final say. Where our ancestors know a joy unspeakable. Black women deserve to rest in that place, even if how they arrived betrays the heart of the very God who walks and talks with them there.