In a landmark ruling on June 26, the U.S. Supreme Court sided with South Carolina in its effort to defund Planned Parenthood by excluding it from the state’s Medicaid program. The Court’s 6-3 decision, issued along ideological lines, has far-reaching consequences that extend well beyond the politics of abortion. At stake is the ability of Medicaid recipients to challenge state actions that restrict access to qualified healthcare providers, and among those most affected are working-class women—particularly those trying to build better futures through higher education.
For millions of low-income students, particularly women attending community colleges, for-profit institutions, and public universities, Medicaid and Planned Parenthood are vital safety nets. These students often juggle full course loads with jobs, caregiving responsibilities, and personal financial struggles. For them, Planned Parenthood has been more than a provider of abortion services. It offers birth control, cancer screenings, STI testing, reproductive counseling, and referrals for other necessary medical care. In many areas, especially in the South and rural regions like South Carolina, Planned Parenthood is one of the few accessible providers that treat Medicaid patients with dignity and without judgment.
The Supreme Court’s ruling removes the legal power of those patients to sue when a state excludes such providers from the Medicaid program, even if those providers are otherwise qualified. In her dissent, Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson wrote that this decision would result in "tangible harm to real people," depriving Medicaid recipients of their only meaningful way to enforce rights Congress granted them. And she’s right. The ruling effectively silences the most vulnerable people in the healthcare system—people who are too poor to pay out of pocket and too marginalized to be heard in political decision-making.
For working-class women in college, this decision could be devastating. When they lose access to affordable reproductive healthcare, their academic goals are put at risk. The ability to plan pregnancies, receive prenatal care, or treat chronic reproductive health issues is foundational to educational persistence and success. Without it, students may drop out due to unplanned pregnancies, untreated health conditions, or overwhelming financial strain. This outcome is particularly likely for women of color, who are already overrepresented in low-income student populations and underrepresented in graduation rates.
The myth that working-class women have “plenty of other options” falls apart under scrutiny. In South Carolina, nearly 40 percent of counties are considered “contraceptive deserts,” areas where access to affordable contraception is limited or nonexistent. While the state claims there are over a hundred other clinics available, many of these lack the staffing, specialization, or welcoming environment of Planned Parenthood. In practice, the choice is not between providers—it’s between care and no care.
Beyond immediate healthcare impacts, the ruling has structural implications for the political economy of both education and health. It reveals how deeply interlinked these systems are, and how the erosion of rights in one domain—healthcare—directly undermines access and equity in another—education. This is not an isolated case. It fits into a broader strategy by right-wing legislators and courts to control reproductive autonomy, silence poor people’s legal recourse, and undermine public systems that serve the working class.
It also exposes the hypocrisy of institutions and corporations that profit from inequality. As this ruling was being issued, ads for Hillsdale College and the University of Phoenix appeared alongside the coverage, promoting liberty and career advancement while healthcare infrastructure for their target demographics crumbles. This is the business model of disaster capitalism—undermine public goods, then monetize the chaos.
The consequences will be real and immediate. A working mother studying to become a nurse or teacher may now have to miss classes or drop out because she cannot get a Pap smear, refill her birth control, or find prenatal care. A young Black student in a Southern community college may now have no place to turn when she needs reproductive health services. A low-income family may be forced into debt to treat a preventable condition that would have been caught in a routine screening at Planned Parenthood. These are not hypothetical scenarios. They are the daily realities of an educated underclass pushed further to the margins.
The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to follow this story as GOP-led states are expected to follow South Carolina’s lead, and as advocacy organizations brace for a long and difficult fight. For now, the Supreme Court’s decision stands as a sobering reminder that health, education, and justice in America remain deeply entangled—and increasingly inaccessible—for those without wealth or political power.
