Arkansas purveyors of reproductive autonomy are in the thick of their campaign to collect 90,704 signatures from across the state to get abortion rights on the November ballot. Social worker Allison Grigsby Sweatman, a volunteer organizer for the group Arkansans for Limited Government, is hustling to raise money and recruit volunteers. It’s a big job made even tougher by the state’s conservative politics. If you’re wondering how she does it, read on.
You’re a young mom of two who was certainly busy before you took on advocating for abortion rights. What gives you the drive and energy to add this cause to your list?
I first got into politics by running for office in a competitive state Senate district [District 13, in 2022]. My focus was educational equity, access to mental health services and disability rights, all which are very personal to me as a social worker and parent to my kids, who both have disabilities. I didn’t intend on talking about abortion much in my campaign, but everything changed with Dobbs and our state’s trigger law.
The more I talked to voters about their concerns, the more I met folks from all over the political spectrum who share the same message for our legislators: Arkansas’s abortion ban goes too far. Even folks who identify as pro-life were open to conversations like never before, because they realized the safety of their daughters and granddaughters is being put at risk with this total abortion ban. With one Supreme Court opinion, abortion went from being a topic I avoided to one that I wanted to talk about with anyone who would listen.
What should people know about your efforts that they don’t know yet?
The Arkansans showing up to help with our efforts come from across the political spectrum. This is not a blue or red issue, it’s a health care issue. Arkansas women and girls deserve to have the care they need without interference from the government.
We’re also overwhelmed by the support of health care providers who are currently terrified to practice basic health care in this state. We are already in dire straits from a health care perspective; this amendment is critical to moving Arkansans from one of the unhealthiest states in the nation to one where families can thrive.
Brian ChilsonWhat lessons are you taking from similar efforts in other states?
One big lesson is that every state is different. The Arkansas Abortion Amendment is not a copy-and-paste ballot initiative. In fact, our language was crafted by Arkansans alone.
This is an issue that Americans, including Arkansans, already feel strongly about. But it’s also an issue with nuance, and the policy that addresses the issues is specific to each state.
If you could change one thing about Arkansas, what would it be?
Mosquitos in the summer, frozen power lines in the winter. (I’m only half-kidding.) On a more serious note, I would change the vitriol and divisiveness that happens in political spaces. I firmly believe that it is possible to disagree with someone’s politics vehemently and still keep their humanity in full view while engaging respectfully. It’s also true that for some people, like Arkansans of color and LGBTQ+ folks, engagement with folks who “disagree” with them is actually unsafe. I say that because I don’t think it’s anyone’s job to educate people into not hating them for being who they are, ever.
What’s the trick to advocating so passionately for progressive political causes and still getting along with conservative friends and family members?
When you find the magic trick, please send me the memo. In the meantime, I think we have to look at each person’s needs differently in this regard. I have some loved ones with whom there is an unspoken understanding that we don’t talk about certain issues. With others, we table certain discussions for when we feel ready to engage respectfully. And, unfortunately, there are loved ones with whom my relationship will never be the same because learning my political stance was deeply uncomfortable for them. I have worked really hard to remind myself that decision is about them, not me, and to love them from afar. 
Advocating for blue causes in a red state can be demoralizing. How do you avoid burnout?
This is the focus of my work as a social worker right now. I’m paying close attention this cycle and trying to share strategies to protect our efforts from burnout. My experience shows me that the rate of burnout and turnover in political work is incredibly high, and it’s concerning for several reasons. First of all, I care deeply about the people I’m doing this work with. I want them to be well because they deserve that as much as anyone else. It’s also true that our outcomes suffer when burnout becomes a cultural norm. Think about what would be possible if the people doing political advocacy and organizing had the space to meet their emotional, physical and spiritual needs. They would stay in the fight longer. Their passion for the work would influence others to join. Our ongoing efforts would become more sustainable. I have thoughts about how we could accomplish this, but that’s probably an answer for another day.
